Last night, on the way to the book signing, I drove past beautiful Lake Waramaug. I still have not purchased a new camera, but took some more photos with my iphone. I’m really liking the iphone pictures.
Sometimes the pictures end up looking a little warped – for example, in the photo above, the land and lake are, obviously, flat.
The event was a lot of fun. I saw Marshall Miles and Jill Goodman, the Producers/General Managers of WHDD-FM/Robin Hood Radio, the NPR station located in Sharon, CT, where I used to have my show IN HOUSE. Seeing Marshall and Jill reminded me how much fun it was to have the show, and we talked about the possibility of starting it up again if and when I ever finish this book.
I met many interesting authors and readers at the event, and when my books were all signed and sold, I decided to cut out early and meet Denis and Devin for dinner. Today I got an email from our blog’s very own Colleen, saying that she saw me standing outside in the mud, barefoot – yes, that’s right, I was wearing a skirt and heels but it was too muddy so I took off my high heels and ran around the place in bare feet. Honestly, you can take the girl out of Midland, Racine, Kenosha, Marblehead, etc., but you can’t take Midland, etc out of the girl. Anyway, Colleen was ONCE AGAIN too shy to introduce herself, but she did say that they stayed and had some wine and enjoyed the evening. Must meet Colleen in person!
Now out to enjoy a sunny day in New England, but first, a photo I took last night, of the mist rising from our wet, steamy hills, and a poem to go with it.
God’s World
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
O world, I cannot hold thee close enough!
Thy winds, thy wide grey skies!
Thy mists that roll and rise!
Thy woods, this autumn day, that ache and sag
And all but cry with colour! That gaunt crag
To crush! To lift the lean of that black bluff!
World, World, I cannot get thee close enough!
Long have I known a glory in it all,
But never knew I this;
Here such a passion is
As stretcheth me apart. Lord, I do fear
Thou’st made the world too beautiful this year.
My soul is all but out of me, let fall
No burning leaf; prithee, let no bird call.










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