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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Last afternoon at the Rancho
Sigh. Sure seems like this summer went by fast. I was away more last year, but this year feels disjointed and... fast.
Butterflies and hummingbirds in the garden, working the spirea and, surprisingly, the lantana. Haven't seen hummingbirds care about that before. Some adorable streamlined yellow-and-gray guys in the dogwood, waiting impatiently for the berries to ripen. Yesterday, a little warbler flew into the dogwood as I was watering the bee balm next to it. He squawked a lot, then flew into the spirea. I thought he was complaining about the water until I saw what he was doing. He sat on a branch, then turned around, then turned around again; lifted a wing, turned, lifted the other. And kept squawking. He was singing in the shower.
So long, garden. See you next year.
Butterflies and hummingbirds in the garden, working the spirea and, surprisingly, the lantana. Haven't seen hummingbirds care about that before. Some adorable streamlined yellow-and-gray guys in the dogwood, waiting impatiently for the berries to ripen. Yesterday, a little warbler flew into the dogwood as I was watering the bee balm next to it. He squawked a lot, then flew into the spirea. I thought he was complaining about the water until I saw what he was doing. He sat on a branch, then turned around, then turned around again; lifted a wing, turned, lifted the other. And kept squawking. He was singing in the shower.
So long, garden. See you next year.
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