When a friend calls to me from the roadAnd slows his horse to a meaning walk,
I don't stand still and look around
On all the hills I haven't hoed,
And shout from where I am, What is it?
Waterskiing is also a lion you cage in your study, except this time my study is the lake laid bare in front of me. The lake I look out the window and see while I write.
“I do not so much write a book as sit up with it, as with a dying friend. During visiting hours, I enter its room with dread and sympathy for its many disorders. I hold its hand and hope it will get better. This tender relationship can change in a twinkling...."
We spent last week at Ocean Isle Beach in NC. It was my family, my sister Holly's family, and my parents. We stayed one street back from the ocean, and the house we rented had a pool.