The moon then the sun on a fresh new day...

I know, I know...

It's been like, what...a month?

I'd like to say there have been many adventures and many mountains climbed. Well, one mountain is closer than it was a month ago--the second book in my Atlanta Heroes series is two-thirds done. That's been most of the work part of my blog sabbatical. Yay, Remember Me!!!

Yay, you guys...'cause I have more excerpts to share ;o)

But there's also been family stuff and Georgia Romance Writers board work and promotion and travelling and my son starting middle school--MIDDLE SCHOOL!!! Let's take a moment to pay homage to the frazzled nerves that were lost forever in this transition ;o)

I'm writing like a maniac again each day, close to home so I can nurture and do all things motherly when the big yellow taxi spits my son back out at the curb in the afternoon...so, time to pay up with the giveaways I promised everyone (not to mention the Coach purse that I'll be announcing the winner of in an upcoming newsletter), and lots of fun prep for the October launch of my new series, Atlanta Heroes. Keep a look out. I'll be posting regularly--maybe even daily, lol!

In the mean time, I'm enjoying the summer storm outside my window, while I draft Remember Me and my son works on a creative writing assignment--ah, the growling and complaning from the creative youngster who'd much rather be spinning an algebra problem into an "A + B always = C" solution.

The lightening and thunder swirling make me think of moonbeams and water and trees blowing in the wind, and how the night shifts into morning so smoothly you'll miss it if you're not paying close enough attention.

I think that's what I've been doing most over the last month. Paying closer attention. The kind of attention that's needed sometimes, to get through the tough transitions that could suck you under if you rush too fast to be done with them.

So, slow down, a friend suggested. And I did. Hope you can, too.

You wouldn't want to miss the storms...it's actually better to savor them, I think. Otherwise, how are you going to truly appreciate the sun breaking through the clouds when you're finally through all the dark stuff?

Here's a poem that says things better than I seem to be tonight (tomorrow, come back for giveaways and an excerpt--seriously!):

"A Song of Enchantment" by Walter de la Mare

A song of Enchantment I sang me there,

In a green-green wood, by waters fair,

Just as the words came up to me

I sang it under the wild wood tree.

Widdershins turned I, singing it low,

Watching the wild birds come and go;

No cloud in the deep dark blue to be seen

Under the thick-thatched branches green.

Twilight came: silence came:

The planet of Evening's silver flame;

By darkening paths I wandered through

Thickets trembling with drops of dew.

But the music is lost and the words are gone

Of the song I sang as I sat alone,

Ages and ages have fallen on me-

On the wood and the pool and the elder tree.