August Fog

August in downeast Maine means fog.

I arrived a few days ago to glorious weather. Nowhere are there skies as blue as in Maine. The black-eyed susans are in full bloom, the asters are just starting to come out, a few raspberries are still visible on the yellowing bushes.

But after a night and morning of rain, fog has set in. From my office window facing the front yard, I see puffs of the white vapors blowing in every once in a while. It's a good day to write.

I've been studying fashion plates of Victorian era teenage girls' outfits. With the exception of the occasional sailor-suit outfit, they dressed more like their mothers. The only difference are the calf-length skirts and hair worn down (just as frequently it seemed to be worn up).

I'm working on writing the first few chapters of a Victorian story, which will be one of Steeple Hill's new Love Inspired Historicals next year.

So, I'd better get back to work...

Return from Vacation

Vacations are great.

We found what we were looking for in SW France and Spain. Sun and heat. The area is arid, with the Corbieres Range in the distance, the beautiful Mediterrean before us and olive groves and peachtree orchards in the intervening fields. And oh, yes, vineyards on every available space of land.

The beach at Port Leucate, France was wide and sandy, and NOT overcrowded. It was perfect.

Barcelona was large. Also hot and sunny. The best part was visiting a cousin and spending hours talking, especially about the Lord.