In the darkness of early morning, trees nod their heads as a moisture-laden breeze stirs them. Are they whispering secrets?
Rain must be moving in. The air certainly feels like it. The sun surely is up there somewhere, hidden behind thick clouds. Will it shine down on NW Arkansas today or keep its counsel in other places?
A few maple leaves show tinges of color. Others go sailing off the trees with the wind. Change is in the air. After all, this is October and fall will begin in earnest one of these days. The leaves seem to be of interest to my neighbor’s cat, watching from his windowsill.
As one of my favorite poems says, I like the fall, the mist and all; I like the night owl’s lonely call and wailing sound of wind around. (Dixie Willson)
By the Fright of the Silvery Moon, happens in the fall. Lots of wind, several shutter-rattling storms, a strange noise in the basement of an ancient house. Ned, who has the companionship of Penny and Ulysses, faces it all. She also confronts a bully. She has learned that knuckling under to bullies only gives them courage. If you are looking for a spine-tingling cozy that borders on being a thriller, look into Fright. It is a good book for days like this or for nights when tattered clouds scud across a cold and silver moon.
Since I began writing, the trees have not changed their minds about the mysteries murmured by the breeze. They still nod their heads, agreeing with…something. With what? Across the street, my neighbor’s gray cat is watching and waiting. I wonder if a storm is coming.
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