So, there I was late yesterday afternoon, watering one of the cottonwood trees that grows by the Giants Causeway, that Lisa wanted me to cut down when we first arrived at Casa Claire, before she realized that elves lived there, when I heard ethereal singing coming from beside the house. I glanced up over the retaining wall and spotted my eldest granddaughter Scarlett setting up an easel,
Not wanting to disturb her creativity, I went about my business. But being a creature of habit, returned after finishing my gardening duties and started snapping candid shots of Scarlett at work, from my secret location beneath the back deck.
Now, my lovely DIL, Georgie, is also a talented painter – I have one of her larger paintings hanging in my living room – and since their family’s return from Oz, when they were not otherwise out racing over mountaintops and communing with nature,
I’ve watched my grans work away at the dining room arts and crafts table.
But I never spotted Scarlett, alone, actually devoting herself independently to painting. Until yesterday.
Those of you fine, five readers that have read Where The Ley Lines Meet will know that the now fully grown character, Scarlett, is now a witch who is also an internationally famous and wealthy artist, who returns from teaching in Paris to reunite with her sister, Savanna, also a witch and a wealthy financial genius, back at Casa Claire, where the main story of this last leg of The Claire Saga launches and ends.
You fine, five readers also know that I wrote WTLLM last summer, while the grans were out of sight – but never out of mind – living in the land down under. So I had to blindly extrapolate what I thought their lives would be like when they got older.
Yesterday again connected more dots between fiction and life, and I couldn’t have been more thrilled.
Speaking of connecting fiction to life, yesterday, upon reading my latest blog, my number 1 frenemy, BC, sent me a photo of his latest disguise in his attempt to avoid the Sasquatch contract that has now been placed upon him.
I guess BC has grown tired of wearing FMPs.
And as much as I am against the idea of any form of hunting, I may make a single exception during the next bear season.
Finally, as most of my fine, five readers are aware, about 10 days ago, I went on Nextdoor and found that they had intentionally hid an entire week of my most recent blogs based upon someone reporting them as spam. Given that I don’t spam, I was pissed off to the extent that I refused to post any further blogs on Nextdoor. And informed the lovely people there, who had regularly averaged about 1K readers per blog, with one final posting.
Yesterday, I received notice from Nextdoor of the viewing numbers for that last posting.
So, it seems that the popularity of my blog increased dramatically due to my promise of no longer posting on that Social Media Outlet.
I’m guessing this is some form of the Dead Artist effect.
Either way, the shameless self-promoter in me was thrilled to see that spike in interest.
I will do anything to sell my books.
Well, Friday’s dawn is peeking over my eastern horizon, so I need to make a move.
Some kitties to cuddle and rounds to make.
You fine, five readers toss down that last cuppa and get out there and skyve your way through this magical day – plan that first June weekend.
And no matter what else happens, let us make today a great one.
