![]() My first novel, Tiny House, Big Mountain, has elements of “magical realism”-though I would dispute whether it’s really “magical realism”. Now I arrive at an undeveloped lot and the house I had planned to build just isn’t inspiring me. I just finished my last long poem, The Cat, while staying in Hamburg and completed my “witchy” YA detective novel Murder Most Monstrous, in the days before leaving, and it was like finishing up two long term carpentry projects. I’ve been struggling to establish a new routine. ![]() ![]() Hurricane Irene was supposed to have been a once in a lifetime event, but nature disagrees. The idea of moving to higher ground was not an idle thought. Our little brook, just a few feet from the back door, rose up into a pounding torrent that nearly flooded the house and almost overran the footbridge. Many of you have probably already seen photos out of Vermont.
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