The dark is rising. . .

. . .or, as we say around here, Winter is coming.

Not even six o’clock and it’s already getting dark.  Well, at least we went out and played in the sunshine.  Took a ride in the brisk and breezy autumn day, through China, and Windsor, and so to Augusta — as one does — where we took a break at Barnes and Noble, and came home with — Anyone care to hazard a guess?

. . .

You guys are too good.

Yeah, we came home with books, including Anne Leckie’s second book, Ancillary Sword; Paragon Walk, Anne Perry; Why Mermaids Sing, CS Harris; Third Circle, Amanda Quick.  So, thank ghod, I won’t run out of anything to read soon.


We stopped for ice cream on the way home from the bookstore, and so we were sitting to the mid-day meal rather later than usual.  We had just finished up when we heard — and felt! — a sort of THUD-thud.  I looked out the front window (which is accessible to me from my usual seat at the kitchen table) and saw our neighbor’s truck going slllllloooooowwwwly up his drive, dragging a trailer full of Big Freaking Chunks of Wood.

“It’s them going up the drive across the street,” I said to Steve, but Steve was already out on the deck, and he was saying, “That’s not what we heard.”

I got up and went outside to look, and, by golly, this is what we heard, falling out of the trailer:

There's a log in the road!
There’s a log in the road!

“Wow,” I said.  “I’m glad it didn’t roll,” and I continued off the deck to the mailbox, because I had some letters to mail.

As I crossed the road, I looked down the street and discovered that, no, there wasn’t a log in the road.

. . .there are TWO logs in the road!
. . .there were TWO logs in the road!

Whereupon I started to laugh.  I was still laughing, bent over, letters in hand, when our next door neighbor — you can see his drive, right where the farthest log is — drove carefully up the road and said to me, “Did you see who lost ’em?”

I nodded and pointed up the drive.

Him?  Does he know?”

“I don’t think so.”

“He must know. . . You think he doesn’t know?”

“I’ll go up and tell him, just in case,” I said.  “Since you’re already driving, maybe you ought to check down the main road to make sure they didn’t lose any more.”

“Oh! Good idea!”

And off he went.

I put my letters in the box, and walked up the neighbor’s drive; and was about half-way to the house when the door opened and out came Himself.

“You lost some logs in the road,” I said.

“Yeah,” he said a little sheepishly, “we just now noticed they was gone and wondered where we lost them.”

“Our other neighbor went out on the road to make sure you didn’t lose any more,” I said.  Himself winced slightly.

“Great,” he said.  “Thanks.”

* * *

In other news, I turned in “The Night Don’t Seem so Lonely,” an Archers Beach short story which will appear on the Baen website in mid-December to whet everybody’s appetite for Carousel Seas.

And, now, I do believe I’ll go do the dishes and then repair to the couch to perhaps finish reading Good Omens.


6 thoughts on “The dark is rising. . .”

  1. The minute I saw the post-title, I thought, “Where did I pack the Susan Cooper books?” I know it’s in the house but it may be in one of the 14 boxes left to unpack…it’s one of the books I read every winter solstice.

    Ooo, CS Harris! You’re in for a treat.

    When we see those logs floating on the bay, we call them SS Debris. AT least you can drive around them :/

    I have to finish A NIGHT IN THE LONESOME OCTOBER. Maybe over butternut squash soup…

  2. Yeah Jo-Anne I agree with you, but lately JAK has been either the victim of fans and publisher or she’s been resting on her laurels. Depending on which name she is using I can pretty much plot what’s going to happen right to the page. It’s very sad because she’s a better writer than that. Pick a character device hook and/or a dust bunny, turn on the machine et la voila, a book.

  3. Picked up the Amanda Quick – I can’t really get into it. I think I”m going to return it to Amazon for my money back. I’ll go read the Archer’s Beach trilogy instead.

  4. Wow. I never thought of returning a book because I didn’t like it. Seems. . .unsporting somehow. I just give the book to someone else.

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