The red sun rose like a portent this morning.
On the West Coast, California, Oregon, parts of Washington are burning. My country is falling apart.
May cooling rains contain this fire.
And if my country can change this much this fast—maybe it can change this fast for the good.
Another world is possible.
Another book is on the way, possibly as early as Samhain.
I’m finishing the line-edit for the third book in the series today. This part is one of my favorite things about writing, refining line by line: mostly cutting and moving punctuation, sometimes moving words.
The picture of the apples is from a few days ago. A bear came and ate nearly all of them the other morning, climbing through the tree to get them. I’m okay with my neighbors getting most of my apple harvest.
I’ve named the third book The Way to Witch Farm.