Yesterday we spent the day in New York City, celebrating my niece’s 13th birthday. It was a rainy, grey sort of day, with that veiled beauty that comes from a wet and misty sky. This was my first summer visit to the city. Central Park is a whole other beastie when all decked out in seasonal finery, and Battery Park was truly enchanting.

A few snippets of NYC greenery. Enjoy!

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Battery Park wilderness

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Bee garden

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Central Park lilies

My lawn is full of wild violets…

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So pretty. They’re supposed to be ‘lawn undesirables’ but I love them. My neighbors can keep their perfect, labor-intensive lawns; I’ll take violets in spring any day!

Happy Sunday

It’s Sunday. The sun is shining, and up here in the wilds of suburban Connecticut it finally looks like spring. Things are stirring in the earth – stirring, I tell you! And, after several weeks where I could think of nothing but the characters from my most recently completed novel, I have new things stirring in my brain.

I had a long blog post on perseverance planned for today, but you know what? It’s Sunday and the sun is shining. Go enjoy the day, take a long walk or maybe write some new words. Perseverance will still be here tomorrow.

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Wind

2015-03-18 12.42.36 2015-03-17 17.05.35 2015-03-18 12.42.54   Sometimes, trees happen.

(You can’t really see it from the pics, but it missed the house by a few steps. Well played, wind.)

Uncle Bob

Tomorrow I’m off for a week’s skiing in Colorado. Because apparently we don’t have enough snow here in Connecticut. But that’s okay, because it’s ski snow and not lying-in-heaps-all-around-my-house snow. And we all know that ski snow is fun stuff, not help-my-back-is-broken-from-shoveling stuff. So all is good.

In the meantime, please to enjoy this bloggy thing I wrote for the very lovely Jo Zebedee. Jo, author of the upcoming Abendau’s Heir, was kind enough to invite me to guest on her blog. By which I really mean she mentioned she didn’t have a blog post for the weekend yet and I said “Oh please, Miss, choose me, pick me, me, me!” And eventually she took pity on my conspicuously raised hand and Bob, as they say, is your uncle. Yours, not mine, although I do have an honorary ‘Uncle’ Bob. Does that count?

It totally counts.