Cars and trucks on the Interstate are humming along this morning. The Folger’s coffee is hot and strong. Nemo is snoozing and the Christmas tree is glowing. It’s the Monday before Christmas and this is what the day looks like from my house.

An amazing find out by the mailbox:  jonquils are poking through the ground! Honestly. They look sort of puny and hesitant; nevertheless, there they are! Maybe fall leaves will cover them enough to keep them warm from the cold that is bound to come.

Yesterday, as I was writing the current chapter of Grave Heritage, it was going along so well that I didn’t want to stop and get ready for church. But I did. Do you ever feel that way–so involved with whatever you are doing that time sort of goes by the wayside and becomes irrelevant as you are caught up in the moment?

In writing, we drop hints of what is to come, foreshadowing. Do you remember the red sunrise a few mornings ago? I think it presaged the rain and the first snowfall. Well, Saturday morning, the sunrise was blood-red. Does this foreshadow more interesting weather on the way?
It’s the last Monday before Christmas. What does the day look like from your house?

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Moonlight Can Be Murder: a tale set in a small Oklahoma town centered around a Victorian house and a deadly secret.