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sjrozan I'm a writer, at work on my 11th book. This blog is a record of random and less-random thoughts. If you want to know more about me, check my website, linked here. I also had a blog going from spring through late fall 2004 about the publishing process for my 9th book, ABSENT FRIENDS. That blog's called "Progress" and you can find the link here. I won't make any more entries but I'm leaving it up in case anyone's interested; the process is more or less the same from book to book. |
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2008-04-28 10:16 PM Rainy spring day It was so beautiful at the river this morning. Raining, but not cold, and not windy; still, for some reason I was almost alone. No dogwalkers, no joggers, none of the maintenance guys who usually rumble their barrels slowly along the walk as they pick up trash. One guy with golf clubs and a cell phone; must have come from hitting a few at Chelsea Piers, getting a jump on the season, now calling his office to make sure nothing happened while he was so temporarily out of touch. He lost points with me for the golf (don't get my golf rant started) but gained them back for walking in the rain with a smile and no umbrella.
The rain swept in gentle sheets along the surface of the river, which was surprisingly calm. Two mallards, a male and a female, tromped along the grass, nibbling. (Do mallards eat worms?) These two like that particular patch, and the other day I saw the male there and not the female, leading me to worry she's nesting in the bushes. That only seems like a good idea in weather like this. When it gets sunny again and people start to picnic and play frisbee, I think they'll realize they've made a mistake. The ducks, not the people. The small red and yellow tulips stayed closed but looked gorgeous, glowing against the green grass and the brown mulch under the trees. The stone walks glistened, and so did the trees, both bark and fresh new leaves, as though everything were varnished. The wooden rail darkened and the aluminum glowed and the blue lights in the handrail supports came on. And as I passed, a young seagull, his wing and tail feathers still brown and his sides still spotted, swooped in and landed on one of those supports as though railing-sitting were a recommended exercise in the seagull handbook and he was trying it for the first time. He kept turning to look at me, first one eye, then the other, but he wouldn't fly away. I finally realized he was actually interested not in me but in the ducks. They were clearly eating something, and he was hoping it was something gulls liked, too. I left them to it. Read/Post Comments (0) Previous Entry :: Next Entry Back to Top |
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