ASK THE ROGUES: What’s a writer to do in winter?

The grandchildren’s winter treehouse in Gayle’s yard By Gayle Lynds It’s seven degrees here in Maine. Snow blankets the forest. Squirrels are hiding in their nests. Deer, foxes, and porcupines are out of sight, too, keeping warm, I hope. I step outdoors, and my nose turns red. My lips are so...

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