Noises in the night.

Noises – which I have decided can best be described as skittery – were emanating from the kitchen as I used my husband’s computer in the dining room. At first, I thought it was rain against the window. Then I thought, maybe, one of the cats was playing with a toy near the baseboards. Neither of those theories panned out when I investigated, but I was able to determine it was coming from a lower cabinet. I told myself that I would set out some live traps tomorrow, then tried to settle back into writing. The sounds continued, growing louder and more rodent-y with each passing minute.

Finally, fearing that a raccoon or a giant rat had invaded my home, I devised my plan – which required a TALL kitchen stool and my son’s Karate bo.

All the lower cupboard doors now stand open. The night is quiet again. But I keep spinning in the chair to see if anything is peering out at me. As I sit here with my feet carefully tucked up under me, I’m wondering what this says about my chances of being couragous in the face of future paranormal studies.

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The tumbling witchgrass arrives.

A while back, I mentioned a whirlwind of fine tumbleweeds that crossed my path. A few days later, I found the same type of plant material heaped in front of my door. Having noticed it twice, and realizing that a true tumbleweed is much bigger, I had to find out what it really was.

It turns out that this is called tumble grass (or tumblegrass). It is also known as: Panicum capillare, witch grass, old witchgrass, and panic grass.

I should hate it. It fills my garage and creeps from my patio into my foyer, then all through my home. (The pets adore carrying into even the deepest recesses of the house.) It’s impossible to sweep or vacuum effectively.

But it comes when the fall winds make the leaves dance all night – which I love. Besides, how can I hate anything with such an intriguing set of names?



Novel progress: chapters 9 -12 are up.

Chapters 9 – 12 went up for my first-readers today. One of them has reported a technical glitch while trying to save a critique. I hate technical glitches. On a happier note, tonight I’m going on the Ghosts of Anoka tour with some fellow fledgling paranormalists. Then, I hope, there will be tasty beer-drinking and creepy plan-making.

Ghosts of Anoka