Lois Lowry's Blog
It is almost impossible to describe the aftermath of snow and ice storms without resorting to clichés, because of course the ice DOES sparkle like diamonds. I woke this morning, two days after Christmas, to the welcome sound of the plow in my driveway. The sky today is very, very blue after the white blur of yesterday. I had to postpone my plans for movie and dinner with friends yesterday because the snow kept coming and coming and the driving was very treacherous. THis morning, sunshine makes everything glisten and the roads are scraped clear and oh, Maine, you have once again redeemed yourself.
I have a couple of trips in January and, as always in winter, find myself unnecessarily worrying about weather. Emails back and forth with Madison, Wisconsin, have me thinking: yes, of course those flight times are fine...unless there is a snowst... But why bother saying that? They surely know, in Wisconsin, about snowstorms. And the worrying is pointless because one can't do a thing about it.
My other January trip is to southern California, to speak at the Charlotte Huck Festival in Redlands. This will be my sceond time there; and the first time...it may even have been the first time the festival was held...Charlotte Huck was still allive. She was a remarkable woman and scholar and I was fortunate to have known her.
Here she is with another much-loved Charlotte.
She was in a class by herself. It is not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer. Charlotte was both. - from Charlotte's Web © 1952 E. B. White
And one other photo. I was responding to interview questions yesterday, by email, and was asked to describe some thing or things of interest or importance to me on my desk. Once that would have been an easier question to answer, back in the day when I had just one desk. But now I have three desks, in three separate geographic locations; and on top of that I often schlep a laptop around, so my writing space is not as speciifc as it once was.
Here, though, is my special mug in which I kepe random pens. After my son died in 1995, his wife gave me his coffee mug...with his pilot's name, ZANE, on it... (His real name was Grey, so it's easy to see why he was given Zane as a call sign.)
He was in a class by himself, as well.