Twenty seven degrees again with heavy frost. The corn plants are totally done for but there is plenty of time to re-seed them. I should have listened to my husband when he told me not to be in too big of a rush to plant. The garlic is thriving though.
It seems like were are rising earlier and earlier not by desire or design but by Cleo! With the days getting lighter at an earlier hour, even though she is buried under the covers, she must sense the the sun is up and therefore she must be, too. I don't really mind but Gale tends to grouse a bit.
He made pancakes for me this morning for Mother's Day. It's funny how much better they taste when he does them!
He is on chapter twenty seven and having a real time trying to decide who is going to do what to whom. It is quite a phenomenon the way our muses will lead us down story lane. Sometimes it gets ahead of us and then it's a matter of going back and inserting a bunch of detail, or even changing a scene or two to make the whole thing work. He doesn't know whether to have the wife ride to the Indian Agency to find her husband or not because her son has disappeared, however her daughter is already out searching for him. I think she should stay home and wait for her husband to return and let him go look.
I am having an equally difficult time deciding if there is something hidden in the root cellar or not and if there is...what it would be!
Ahh, the life of a witter. We have been invited to do another signing at Borders in June!