This is the month of nuts and nutty thoughts- that November whose name sounds so bleak and cheerless– perhaps it is that the harvest of thought is worth more than all the other crops of the year.— Henry David Thoreau
37 degrees, drizzle, calm, low tide. Today is what the Irish call a soft day. You’d never know there were mountains if this was all you saw of the place.
We walked a tad later today (and in rain gear) from about ten to eleven partly because I was working on my new book – I love saying that– we will see what happens– I have decided to write 2,000 words every day in November so that I’ll have a big messy 60,000 word draft in thirty days that I can spend all winter repairing. My friend didn’t mind, since she has a standing lunch date on Friday. It’s been years now. She went there straight from the walk.
We talked about all kinds of things — mostly traveling and why we prefer to stay home this time of year – especially after we heard, then saw the plane fly low out of the fog and bank toward the airport. They can use instruments for the approach now. I’m sure it’s safe. Still, I prefer to have my feet on the ground even if my head is in the clouds most of the time.
