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There has been a torrential flood of rain lately, which is good for Julie and Jarad because they are not obligated to water their plants on rainy days (Uncle Morty is, of course, blithely indifferent). Let's just say we appreciate the break. Julie is ruminating on all this wetness today. I hate a dry garden. We had a few weeks without rain here in Atlanta and it makes me sad for the plants. The seedlings sit quietly, curling up into themselves, no more leaping upwards. Every breeze that shakes the tree leaves in the heat seems like a choking prayer for rain. The birds flutter out against their better judgment to get a quick drink when I water the seed beds. Relentless sun, in the south, feels like a slow, creeping death. It’s hard to breathe.
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The Writer's Hotel is happening very soon, and since Julie had a great time last year, Sacred Chickens wanted to remind and encourage anyone in the area to go to the readings. Each year, writers and poets hit the literary hot spots in New York to read their works. What better way to support other writers than to chill out, have a drink and listen to the words come alive. Here's a group of posters with times dates and the names of the writers. Take advantage if you're in the area. |
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