The opening of the Dexter Cider Mill is a local indicator that the long slide into Autumn is nigh. Truth in advertising: I haven't been to the Cider Mill in many years, but I drive by it nearly every day. People come from far and wide.
I find I don't dread winter as much as I used to. Perhaps because it is no yard work to worry about. Or perhaps I've survived so many of them they no longer phase me. Or perhaps my fears of terrible drives to work are abated by the ability to work from home. In any event Winter is still months away. I don't know why my mind went there.
Regarding my next book. The name of it will be The Hawk Sahib. It is a murder mystery set in Lhasa, Tibet in the 1890s. How's that for esoteric? It is on the dark side for me. I like to think there is a bit of Kipling and a bit of Conan Doyle in it. I do not expect any people outside my personal demographic to have the slightest interest and then only a tiny minority with that demographic. Such is the benefit of writing without concern for an audience; I can write to suit myself. More details once I get the damn cover issues sorted out and find some time to actually push it up to Kindle.
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