As a child, of the seasons I liked summer the least, which is the exact opposite of convention. After all summer meant vacations, warm weather and long nights. What was not to love?

Well, we seldom vacationed, the AC often broke, and the long nights mean very little to a kid whose primary mode of transport was a ten speed. Thankfully, perspectives can change. And a working AC helps.

Now as an adult I like summer because it means vacations, which really mean longish writing sessions. I guess that means I live to work. Or at least for some kinds of work.

Towards that end, here’s another picture of the undisclosed location that figures into the next book. This one is from the other side of the fence. No laws were broken to obtain these photographs. * whistles *