There’s nothing like being transported to another time or place especially when your surrounded by cool characters and animals.
Edith here, north of Boston. And yes, it’s full winter.
I’ve been spending the month of January in frigid northeastern Massachusetts. You might think this blog is going to be about wishing I was on a sunny tropical island, like a couple of people I know (ahem, Barb Ross and Liz Mugavero). But it isn’t.
For the first half of January I was writing about an unusually warm and dry late May in northeastern Massachusetts for Mulch Ado About Murder. That’s not so odd. Authors’ deadlines often require us to write in seasons that don’t match the season when the story takes place, and sometimes to write about places where we don’t live.
For the second half of the month I’ve been immersed in February in southern Indiana during an exceptionally cold winter, polishing When the Grits Hit the Fan. And soon I’ll be back in a steamy 1888 July putting in editorial…
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