January 18th, 2016

The Red Tree

"There's a little black spot on the sun today."

We got snow last night, maybe an inch. Just enough to make the world white. Last night it had the beauty that snow at night has, softening the knife's edge of winter, grinding down the rusty blade. But today it's nothing but a reminder of the season's bitterness. The sun is blinding off a billion ice crystals. Currently, 26˚F, with the windchill at 8˚F. I've not left the house in a week.

I swore I would not still be in Providence when winter returned again, but here I am.

That's what I get for swearing.

Yesterday I wrote a passable preface for Cambrian Tales: Juvenilia and started work on the notes for each story, which I'll finish this afternoon. And then, this evening, I'll send the whole thing away to Subterranean Press.

Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that. ~ MLK, Jr.

Please have a look at the current eBay auctions. Thank you.

Later Taters,
Aunt Beast