If we never meet again (or the Blue Ridge fare-thee-well blues)

I’ve been in Virginia for more than a week now, working on a couple of short stories and reworking a couple of longer manuscripts —

Here’s a photo of my writing studio, which is set atop a hillside of the peaceful former farm where the Va. Center for the Creative Arts is located.

studio exterior

Here’s a photo taken inside, where I’ve been spending a lot of time writing — and looking out of the window at the sky (which has mostly been blue) and those treetops.

interior of studio

 

Here’s what I see when I get a little stir crazy and go for a little drive (took this  photo yesterday )

blue ridge foothills

And here’s some of the music I’ve been listening to late at night:

Time is a jet plane/It moves too fast…so wrote Bob Dylan…I can’t believe time can pass so quickly in such a slow-moving place, but I’ve been here for ten days already and have just four more to go….I’m going to miss this place, but I’m sure I’ll be back….and until then I’ll just have to listen to lots and lots of old Stanley Brothers songs…

 

 

 

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