I went outside today to hang out my "No UPS" sign to let my driver know I had nothing to ship (from my two internet businesses). It was such a beautiful day I found myself looking for a reason to stay wrapped in the warm breeze and sunshine. There sat my dahlias, foliage shrieveled from the previous frost, begging to be put to sleep for the winter in the garage. So I whipped and my shovel and pruners and went to work, savouring the last remnants of Indian summer, shedding my sweatshirt halfway through.
There were a host of other shriveled plants begging to be cleared from my flower bed. But being utterly dead and no chance of a spring resurrection, I ignored their ugliness, knowing a cover of white would soon hide them from my eyes, and went back into the house. I've got a novel to write this month. I had let myself wear my gardener hat long enough. Now its time to put on my writing cap and get back to work.
My novel, entitled
Hitler's Promise is coming along nicely. It's about a young boy growing up in Nazi Germany with handicapped brother. He loses his brother to Hitler's push for the master race and gains a fear of having to fight for a man he knows is evil. I'll tell you more at the end of November. But right now, I've got to go write.
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