Last week was shrouded in fog.
The sunsets were stunning.
A tornado skirted around the edge of town, leaving a river rushing through the middle of the pasture.
I wrote and I got rained on and I ate and I laughed and I spent ten minutes cowering in the back hall with the dogs, a quilt, and a weather report while I waited for the storm to pass. Saturday brought with it a successful trip to stock up on hay - which is now a mountain that the cats love climbing.
Exciting plots twists and big, dramatic moments are easy enough to imagine. But it's hard to fabricate the little things. I think all the little things in my life have given me a greater appreciation for details and realism. And I think nothing complements an exciting, passionate story like a healthy shot of realism. That's the tapestry I try to weave. The browns and grays are just as important to the overall picture as the reds and blues.