The deer that I wrote about watching a few days ago have been replaced. I now write my novels to the sound of chainsaws buzzing, trees falling, chirps of mini dozers with pinchers dragging the trees back to the certain death of the buzzing wood chipper.

I knew these days were coming. Since I moved here about three years ago, I've known that there was a drain project that required access to Walden Pond, the watershed for this area. I live on the pond's property. The record-breaking amounts of rainfall that have occurred all over the United States make these types of upgrades to storm drain systems imperative. When the project is completed, Walden Pond will be deeper and wider, better able to handle these record amounts of rainfall. New trees will take the place of the old, but I find myself unexpectedly sad to see that line of living trees and bushes removed. I know access to the pond is necessary to do the work needed to keep other trees, property, and people in this neighborhood safe from the devastating floods, like the ones that recently destroyed homes and lives in Tennessee, New York, and New Jersey.

Once the pipes have been laid and the dredging is done, the new trees will be planted. As they grow, the deer will return to their sheltering branches, my neighbor will sit with her dog in the shade they provide, and I will type on my computer in peace, watching it all.

Life will go on. But, right now, it is darn noisy.  

​A few nights ago, I was busy writing on my latest novel, "Seams Like Murder," when I heard the distinct sound of rainfall. I typed away to the sound of water falling for a few more minutes, only to realize I didn't see rain outside my window. Upon investigation, I found it was "raining" in my walk-in closet. Water was pouring down in a steady stream from the ceiling as the washer in the apartment above me attempted to fill up a leaking tub and instead began filling my closet.

That leak forced me to face something I'd been putting off. My book inventory and handcrafted yarn creations are in that closet. Had I not been home to put a tub under the leak, and had our housing complex not had a Johnny-on-the-spot maintenance manager who accepted calls at all hours of the day and night, gallons of water would have continued to fall into my apartment, potentially ruining all my hard work.

Books, yarn, and water do not mix well. The books I could easily reorder to replace the damaged ones, but most of my yarn creations are one-of-a-kind, irreplaceable.  Why was I keeping them stored in a closet anyway? If I made these items for others to enjoy, why wasn't I offering them for purchase?

The simple truth is that I'm focused on so many other things in my life right now that I kept putting off getting my yarn creations ready for retail display. I know my creative endeavors are safe because I heard the delivery men grunting as they lugged a new washer up to the second floor. But I'll be getting my yarn-crafted items and books ready to go to Ledge Craft Lane anyway. 
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They have a party room upstairs--minus washing machines.

I live near a pond, and the area around me has lots of trees and natural growth. It is mostly quiet and peaceful—the perfect place to write, as I am this morning.

I was too late to get a picture, but four deer just walked through the backyard into the treeline. That treeline will soon be removed to allow the county to work on the drain system in our neighborhood. As much as I would like to have things say the same, recent flooding here, where I live, and around the country has shown that here and the rest of the country must move forward to address infrastructure needs.

I am grateful that the county has taken care not to disturb the wildlife or relocate them if possible while working on upgrading the drainage systems and increasing the capacity of the pond.

For now, I will enjoy the peaceful writing moments that I have before bulldozers arrive.