In A Bookish, Quilty Mood

A sample from yesterday's work.... Reading through Book Three of The Hawk and being in the writing/revising zone.... Before I begin today's reading, I need to note how comforting it was yesterday to dive into a manuscript well known and steep myself not only in its realm, but the steadying manner of doing something related to writing. And how I didn't realize it would be so cathartic until dwelling there. There is a place I've enjoyed for nearly twenty years, the haunts of authorhood, of piecing prose, of writing. Revisions are a part of it, prepping manuscripts, crafting the first dang draft itself; all those elements are necessary if one chooses (or is chosen, lol) to follow the muse as far as it wishes to take us. Dragging us at times, yes, but only because writers are fearful of being shot down, of not being able to write, of bad reviews, of losing the plot, of whatever dark clouds that mar our vision. This of course can apply to artists spanning a wide range of ta...

I cannot be a channel of peace unless first I own it. Sometimes I forget I'm semi-retired. Books to write, quilts to make, chickens to feed.... Chickens, at my age? I'm in my sixtieth year for crying out loud. What were we thinking when deciding to get baby chicks? I'm tired, but not too weary to write a post. Just finished the dishes, not many, but our oatmeal bowls, my teapot, the stuff we need for the morning. Our kitchen is...old. Lol. No dishwasher, but a decent disposal. Big sinks. Lots of room to handwash all the dirty dishes we make. And thankfully we have an ancient concrete double sink in the equally aged laundry room to wash chick feeders and waterers. Hot water only, as the other two taps are hooked to the washer. For which I am also VERY GRATEFUL. Despite feeling exhausted, peace has been flowing through me in healing waves. Despite needy chickens, a despotic president, and other world traumas (like what's happening to women in Afghanistan for instance) , I...

Chicks we call The Clones as it's a little hard to tell them apart, lol. Slow quilt stitching, baby chicks, and a new book distributor.... Where has the first half of 2025 gone? I thought this year would slog along, stuck in a lousy government situation, but no. 2025 is speeding past as quickly, if not more so, than the last ten years have zoomed by. Like sand slipping through my fingers is each day, as though I wake, then suddenly it's four p.m., time to do my stretches! I won't ponder that element of my existence, but I can mull over the changes to my life that certainly has NOT remained as it was previously. Like chickens! LOL. The chicks have had outdoor time the last two days in what will eventually be their run. The first day they practically clung to one another for a good twenty minutes before finally stepping a few inches in their own directions. Today they seemed to recall the grass, the shade (oddly enough they weren't keen on going into the sun), and how muc...

The breaks in the cloud are faint, but cannot be dismissed! The sun isn't shining, a menacing marine layer keeping those of us along the North Coast aching in the gray. However to the southeast a break in the mundane is trying to emerge. This delicious light stirs me to write this post, because despite it being the high days of summer, our landscape has felt like the dark days of late autumn for too damn long. A metaphor perhaps for all that blankets our current world scene? Sure! Big ugly legislation, miserable conditions everywhere we turn, natural disasters wreaking havoc, tender souls wrenched from reality; all these traumas want to strip our joy, leave us bereft. I woke to another gray morning, assuming the flat dull horizon would remain. However peeks of brightness remind me that all is not lost. Goodness prevails. Does this mean the sun and blue sky are about to muscle in, shoving the dreariness aside? No. The marine layer is far too entrenched for that to occur AT THIS MOME...

Those chicks are doing well, although coccidiosis remains an irritant, and I had to add Corid to their water again this morning. Our bossy chick Camilla was quite docile in my care earlier today; hopefully her spunk returns, as well as good health. Good health cannot be overrated for chicks, and certainly not for us humans. Dear friends have been struggling for the last three months, as my pal Teri is back in hospital, where she has resided for much of the last ten weeks. Teri remains feisty, but her cognitive abilities are strained, and her spouse Anson is reaching the end of his emotional tether. They are the age my father would be had he lived, yet my husband and I view them not as parental substitutes. They are our contemporaries, as well as inadvertent guides on our aging journeys. I sent out a prayer request to my sisters this morning concerning Teri and Anson, asking for love, support, and especially strength. Only now I realize I didn't seek healing, which might seem like a...

  Chick party tonight! Chicks are pretty funny. One has earned a moniker for her behavior at the feeder; Camilla relentlessly roots out anyone near her slot, taking it back if someone manages to push her aside, and scratching while eating. My husband suggested the name when I mentioned that Camilla thought she was the new queen, but no one could take Queenie's place in my heart. Lol. We didn't plan to name any of them until personalities emerged, and Camilla takes the freaking CAKE for personality right now. The rest are figuring out their places in the pecking order, yet not a single one has managed to actually grasp the perch rungs, hah! They are starting to play under it, attempting to fly on top of it, a lot of wing-flapping this morning when I opened the brooder. A dear friend is visiting, who saw them last week, and she said they have grown! Which was good to hear because we think they're bigger, but we see them daily and other than a few tail feathers having sprouted...