This is probably a ‘dangerously close to being rejected post’ because it’s a late submit. I daresay all the northerners are safely tucked in bed, sleeping the night away.
There’s not much room for indulgent book reading when one is writing an historical fiction novel. In most cases, it’s all about research. Research, research, research. And my research books of choice are always mentioned in Author’s Notes in the back of each novel.
In terms of indulgence though, there were some stand out books for me this year with an amusing and informative one thrown in at the end. Here they are, in no particular order…
Three sleeps to go till Christmas Day!
Despite that it takes energy and exertion to get to that point, it’s all mellowed on the day.
By expressions of joy when a gift is opened or when a burst of flavour from something delicious lands on the tongue. When a hug from a favourite person thrills, when a brilliantly told yarn around the table holds the attention and then burst likes fireworks with the punchline.
It’s raining here.
Part of the re-emergence of a weather-system off a cyclone. Because it’s a ’rebirth’, meteorologists call it a zombie storm. It’s been gloomy and the air has been heavy since yesterday and about thirty minutes ago the rain began. In our case, it’s a soaking wet drizzle, wafting in sheets across the garden and driven by a north-easterly wind off the sea. It’s not at all cold but it’s what we call ‘wet rain’, a mist that sinks into coats, coverings and skin as if storm-driven.
We’ve known this weather has been likely for a week – farmers and gardeners getting quite excited by a good drop before summer really exerts itself. With that in mind, I took the camera while the weather was finer earlier in the week, so that I’d be prepared for SoS.
Today my latest trilogy is finally in print!
But before we get to that, grab a cup of tea or coffee and read on…
For those of you in the northern hemisphere, you begin the long trek through winter, something that always looks so beautiful from where we sit in the south. Snow bedecked trees, elegant forms traced in frost in the gardens. Iced lakes, rivers and ponds, toboggans and snowmen. The romance of a white winter.
Here of course, it’s vastly different.
It’s actually Sunday here in Oz and it’s been an awful week weather-wise, so I despaired of having anything to offer. But then I sat and watched Netflix last night – seasons of Big Dreams Small Spaces with Monty Don.
The Don is my hero – his quiet honesty, his raging enthusiasm for things he loves, his faceted depths and what appears to be gentle humility. Anyway, suffice to say that when he went to Wales to help two young chaps create their vision in the worst weather – rain, more rain and wind – I thought’ Oh what the hell…’ and went out to take a few pics.
Another Saturday and rather troubling at how fast they come around because it means Christmas gets closer faster, and I haven’t cooked anything yet. The garden, my writing, and being a new grandparent all get in the way.
I’ve mentioned our Matchbox garden periodically. It’s a tiny garden that enables us to retreat to peace when we have to go to the city to stay.