Welcome readers, writers, authors, and bloggers!
We’re glad you’re here. For the seventh time this year, it's the First Wednesday of the month when we celebrate IWSG Day, in the form of a blog hop featuring all of the members of the Insecure Writer's Support Group. Founded by Alex Cavanaugh and fostered by like-minded associates, IWSG is a place to share the fabulous views and exciting news that occurs along our fascinating writing journeys. Pull up a chair and join us!
Our awesome co-hosts for this month's posting of the IWSG are:
This week begins “Air-Conditioning Appreciation Days” There may be a few more participants than normal this year. For the time being, I envy those who live near water ;-)
It’s “World Watercolor Month” Do you have a favorite artist? Besides Van Gogh, John Singer Sargent is a favorite of mine. Especially The Loggia, Vizcaya 1917. I can imagine a cool breeze wafting across the terrace as waning rays of daylight are captured in a suncatcher.
A couple of weeks ago, I counted over thirty ongoing wildfires in my state as daily temperatures inched ever closer to record highs with no rain in sight. I couldn’t help but wonder how all those tent-city dwellers across town were keeping cool. Not a good time to invite so many visitors, if you ask me.
Since it’s Tell
the Truth Day, I will. We were anxious to make good on plans to get out
of the sweltering heat for a while. Monsoon, years overdue, refreshing, and
typically thrilling, arrived three days before we left. Wouldn’t you
know it? It seemed a bit of it followed
us, as it rained or remained overcast, here in the woods, clear through the 4th
of July. Just when I think nature has fully astonished me, it tosses
something new my way. For example, that fireball that zipped along a utility
line and hit a house down the way - without setting the forest on fire. That was yesterday. Today, cable and internet
are intermittent so I hope I can get this post out on time tomorrow.
Of late I’ve been doing my best to curb excessive usage of the word “just” as in simply, merely, or barely. Can you tell? I had no idea how often I use the word.
This month, the IWSG optional question asks what would make a writer stop writing. The very thought of such a thing makes my heart stop long enough to ponder the possibility of writing from the great beyond. Now that could be fun :-)
As time is of the essence this morning, I’ll leave you with one (more) burning question: How would you describe a radish to someone who’s never heard of such a thing?