February 2016. January has blown out on a chilly wind here in Sonoma Valley. A light cover of clouds. Wind chimes.
A brisk morning swim and soak in the outdoor hot pool. Masters swimmers come to immerse and warm up. They talk of $1,000 tickets to sporting events and who’s going to the Super Bowl.
I submerge my ears. I’m blissed out by water.
These days what I’m working on: modeling passages by the great novelist Richard Wagamese before I start my own morning writing. Shaping up my second novel, a Canada-based mystery supported by Fulbright Canada. Drafting the prequel, a Sonoma-based mystery. Writing for magazines and newspapers. Consulting on watershed projects. Visiting my elderly father. He mostly wants to talk about his two wives–my mother, who passed many years ago, and my stepmom, who’s alive and by his side. He wants my opinion. My opinion is that he seems to be happy.
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