Sometimes I think the Island is the most beautiful when its weather is moody. Today my little cottage resonated with the sounds of wind chimes. I was having my own personal concert. Outside was wet, gloomy, windswept, and absolutely beautiful.
I did some work on book promotion. I stopped by Mock and More, the gallery on Postoffice that shows my work, and brought some paintings and a few copies of The Glory Days of Aimée Bonnard. I added 1,000 words to the jazz age mystery, and they’re not entirely bad. I ate half a muffuletta from Maceo’s.
In the evening I was tempted to curl up with my dog and stay put. But the allure of a gloomy walk through a foggy downtown in the company of my friend stirred me out of my laziness. It ended up being a really lovely walk, salty and mysterious, the kind of stuff my imagination feasts upon.
