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Writing Wendl...

I really did want to write a light-hearted tale in case this one turns out to be my last novel (assuming it yet becomes a novel), but it's headed currently toward the shadows. I thought I knew Wendl Von Trier pretty well, having trekked with him through my previous book, The Winged Child .   There, Wendl presents as an elusive solitary, moving above all worldly fray while at the same time nudging events and characters toward a satisfactory conclusion. Sharp and intimidating on the outside and tender and motherly on the inside. A friend to the world, something of a trickster, but in all things working for good outcomes.  That is how I saw Wendl VonTrier. A  púka, mischievous, but essentially harmless, even benevolent, capable of presenting in whatever form or gender the moment required. Wendl seemed the ideal candidate to carry readers off into the literary sunset in good spirits after an exhilarating romp through a fantastical fiction. But all along, it seems, there were depths to

Isn't she grand?


This little Abies grandis is the newest arrival in the Kitchen Garden. She was a Christmas gift from the Main Muse. Grand fir is more resistant than our eastern native Fraser Fir (Abies fraseri) to the woolly adelgid that is slowly killing our resident hemlocks. Spraying large trees with horticultural oils like neem oil is impractical, but if need arises it should suffice to protect the two wee conifers in our tsubo niwa.

Henry's books.

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