First and foremost -- happy birthday to me. I am not really celebrating my birthday this year for a variety of reasons, and it makes me sad. :(
Second: Raquel clued me in to this Weather blogfest, hosted by Nick. I tend to ramble about the weather when I'm looking for the right words to show up. Weather does help set the scene, but I end up taking a lot of my weather ramblings out unless they actually feature in the story. This one showcases summer's warmth and is one of my favorite scenes.
This is how Frances starts to get her groove back in Courtly Love:
Slats of light from the open windows striped the floor of her bedchamber as she walked across the room toward her armoire. The moment she felt the sun touch her skin, Frances paused, distracted by the warmth and the unexpected delight. No longer thinking about donning her lady of the manor costume, she moved as if drawn to the window. The sun kissed her skin, reminding her of picnics and play. Lifting her face to capture the warmth, she breathed in the fresh scent of summer, of harvest, of cut grass, of heat. She closed her eyes and felt the warm orange glow through her eyelids. For a moment she was just a woman letting the sun caress and soothe her body. Heedless of any witnesses from the courtyard below, Frances stood in the window absorbing the rays as the daylight faded. She did not want to move from the joyful light of the summer back into the gloom of Holme Pierrepont… she did not want to resume her role as chatelaine or child-rearer or wife. She was happy here, naked and warm, kissed by the sun. At that moment, she was simply a woman. Amongst all the roles and duties, she had forgotten she was a woman. She was not Mama or Mistress Pierrepont or a dutiful daughter… she was Frances.