This morning I took my two border collies to Cross Mountain not long after sunrise. I wanted to beat the forecast for storms and cold. Both arrived hours earlier than predicted, and the wind shifted to the north and turned cold when we arrived at the summit. Now it is 25 degrees. Yesterday was 85. I get a lot of my inspiration walking at Cross Mountain or Enchanted Rock, but I write at home. Too cold to be outside now. Here is the last paragraph I have written for Fort Davis Rocks:
“Raquel put two glasses filled with ice on the table, opened the bottle, and poured each glass half full.
Delbert picked up the glass, held it in front of him, and looked at it. The drink was the color of liquid gold. He swirled the glass, washing the whiskey around the ice cubes, then brought it to his nose. The scent was familiar, although slightly different from what he was familiar with. Its allure was overpowering. He leaned back and stretched his legs out in front of him, still holding the glass. He looked at Miriam. Synapses fired in his brain, putting images and thoughts in his head as rapidly as fireworks at the end of a Fourth of July celebration. In front of him were two great passions; a beautiful, sexual woman, clearly interested in him, and a glass of pure gold. The confusion in his head from Raquel’s kiss disappeared into nothingness. The glass in his hand was steady. He brought it to his lips, smiling. I can handle this.”
I am not sure what happens next. Working on it. Makes me a bit nervous.