4 more chapters to go

Cutlet:
Carl looked out at the trees, and thought of the drowned trees in Rose Lake, even though he knew they weren’t there anymore, or not the way he imagined them. Stumps, uprooted logs that had floated to the surface. More likely they’d clearcut the big stuff before the dam went in. But his vision persisted, the giant trees reaching straight up from the floor of the gorge, their branches moving in the water, leaves fluttering with the current.
I might be done with this round of revision by Sunday night. And certainly by the end of January, which is the thought I'm using to inspire myself, when myself is contemplating the snowflakes falling in a lovely but annoying way outside my office window.
Two friends with new blogs: Voyage Artistique (from France!) and The Alternate Side Parking Reader (the NYC parker has started blogging).