The sunshine is most welcome this morning. Yes, I over-slept, missed the darkness before dawn, and the sun beat me out of bed. Patches of snow lie on the ground, tattered remnants of winter, and by my mailbox, a brave jonquil has pushed through the ground in spite of the snow and ice, and the small, yellow bud is about to open.
Looking across the street at my neighbor’s house, I see the sun shining against his porch supports and tree, casting huge shadows on his garage door. Funny thing, the shadows are much bigger than the actuality. The pillar and tree are not nearly as large as their shadows. I think worries are like those shadows. Sometimes the actual problem is not as big as we make it by fretting and fuming about it.
Speaking of shadows reminds me of fears and, of course, my heroine in Moonlight Can Be Murder has to face many fears and dangers. I’ll give you a brief excerpt here:
The noise jarred my eyes open. I gasped and sat up. The luminous dial on my bedside clock told me it was two in the morning.
“Penny?” I muttered. “Did you knock something off a table?”
But the little cat was not on the foot of my bed. As I listened, heart pounding, it came again—a metallic clang like metal striking metal.
Afraid to move and afraid not to move, I swung my feet off the bed and crept to the window. Was the noise inside the house or out? It was impossible to know. What could have caused that dreadful crash?
I leaned close to the pane, peering out, my breath making little foggy circles on the window.
Moonlight bathed the yard in silvery brightness, lighting the roofs of the well and the carriage house. In the darkness of oaks, cedars, and honey suckle, a darker shadow moved. I wiped the fog off the glass and squinted at the yard. Something white and filmy drifted from the tangle of trees and bushes. It seemed to float toward the carriage house. Hardly daring to breathe, I waited for the person or thing, whatever it was, to reappear, but it didn’t. Finally, the sound of my teeth clicking together made me realize I was shaking.
Tomorrow is the day of the annual Northwest Arkansas Writers’ Conference. I am looking forward to it, to meeting old and new friends, hearing some good writing pointers, being inspired, and learning! One never gets too old to learn. If you live close enough to drive over, maybe I’ll see you there too!
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