I'm a writer, publishing both as SJ Rozan and, with Carlos Dews, as Sam Cabot. (I'm Sam, he's Cabot.) Here you can find links to my almost-daily blog posts, including the Saturday haiku I've been doing for years. BUT the blog itself has moved to my website. If you go on over there you can subscribe and you'll never miss a post. (Miss a post! A scary thought!) Also, I'll be teaching a writing workshop in Italy this summer -- come join us!
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Where am I?
Turns out I'm in Wisconsin. I knew that, but maybe you didn't. I'm teaching at a Novel-in-Progress Bookcamp on 100 acres near West Bend. West Bend, by the way, made it onto this year's AARP list of best places to live in I don't remember what category. Just sayin'. Came out to Wisconsin a few days early to hang with some buddies and birdwatch. Hoped to see sandhill cranes, saw only one, and from afar. Alas.
But here in Cedar Valley, a pair of killdeer are guarding a nest down by the pond. The male did the broken-wing dance to lead me away: limped his little self down the beach, and then when I was safely far from the nest he upped and flew away, no doubt thumbing his beak. I saw a great blue heron lift off from the other end of the pond this morning, and a murder of crows harassing a red-tailed hawk. Yes, a group of crows is called a murder; look it up. I've been teaching in the mornings, working out and writing in the afternoons (SJ is writing in the afternoons? Heavens to Betsy!) and also in the evenings, because the rooms here are TV-free and dinner is at -- sit down, New Yorkers -- 5:30. So evening stretches. Talented, hard-working students and lots of quiet time. I'm loving it.
locust trees just beginning
killdeer protecting her nest
chairs around the fire pit
hilltop
farm at the edge of the property -- goats and retired horses live here
lilac bush
But here in Cedar Valley, a pair of killdeer are guarding a nest down by the pond. The male did the broken-wing dance to lead me away: limped his little self down the beach, and then when I was safely far from the nest he upped and flew away, no doubt thumbing his beak. I saw a great blue heron lift off from the other end of the pond this morning, and a murder of crows harassing a red-tailed hawk. Yes, a group of crows is called a murder; look it up. I've been teaching in the mornings, working out and writing in the afternoons (SJ is writing in the afternoons? Heavens to Betsy!) and also in the evenings, because the rooms here are TV-free and dinner is at -- sit down, New Yorkers -- 5:30. So evening stretches. Talented, hard-working students and lots of quiet time. I'm loving it.
locust trees just beginning
killdeer protecting her nest
chairs around the fire pit
hilltop
farm at the edge of the property -- goats and retired horses live here
lilac bush
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