Here is the fierce predator Onion in her natural environment. She’s stalked and killed a roll of toilet paper, having started the morning by taking down a votive candle.
I’m sad to tell you Onion is an only child now. Her sister Potato was lost a while ago on a grand adventure, begun by popping out a window screen. Potato started her quest at night, or I might have stopped it. She’s now with Bast, or wherever cats go when they take off. I miss her.
This bench in Pompeii, in a picture taken several years ago, sits in between visitors, waiting. I’ve finished a draft of book 4 of the series, working title Arise, You Rebel Angels, and it’s with beta readers. I’m giving myself a brief break between periods of writing.
I’ve always been fond of in-between time—when I was in college, going to my parents’ house and back on the bus, the passage looking out the window, watching the dark landscape go by, was one of my favorite times. No responsibilities, no set location. I’m in between also on vaccine status—two shots down, waiting for full immunity in June.
The eddy of time before a new current takes hold.
Bealtaine traditionally was a season, and as part of that fey and amorous season I’ve sent the fourth book of my series to beta readers. And huzzah for that.
If all goes to plan, it should be out by the end of the year.