It might be sunny today. The forecasters say it will be sunny in Providence, but so far, only clouds. They also say tomorrow will be sunny, with a high of 72F, but then, they say, we get seven straight days of rain. I suspect they'll be right as regards generalities, but mistaken on many particulars. Meteorologists in New England should be known only as "forecasters." They belong in the same class as astrologers, chiromancers, numerologists, and all those people who claim to have predicted momentous events, but only after the momentous events have occurred. The only way to be sure what the weather's doing up here is to look out the window. Regardless, I do miss some semblance of summer, and I'm beginning to hear longtime locals grouse about this wet, cold weather, so I know it's not just me.
Another decent nights sleep, aside from the dreams. The dreams seemed far more real, more immediate and tangible, than anything that's happened since I woke.
Yesterday, having shelved "The Alchemist's Daughter," I turned to a piece I'm calling "The Mermaid of the Concrete Ocean." I wrote 1,047 words. This one has to work, because there's no more time for false leads.
I meant to mention, the woman who will be playing Constance Hopkins in the book trailer for The Red Tree is a painter named Amy Clay. Follow that link, and you can see some of her work.