Akin to finding the Wizard

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Talk about striking hues; last night I completed the ruffle for this bright baby afghan.

As Dorothy Gale wakes in the deadly field of poppies, the Emerald City waits on the horizon. I feel a LOT LIKE Dorothy right now, having finally pushed through the rewrites, an open expanse of yellow brick road and a green glowing landscape beckoning me to chase after it.

Dude! I can't quite wrap my head around where I am in the writing; for what feels like ages I've been wresting and wrangling with this story, finding myself tangled within its confines. Over the weekend, I gave myself permission to not expect a finish anytime soon. Did that liberate me to get my arse in gear, lol. Regardless, tomorrow I will write something NEW, in that the scenes I've added recently were to pad out a chapter or plot line. Wednesday's task remains mysterious and boy I can't wait!

Like Dorothy, I'm curious, albeit hopeful; did she ponder just how magical that wizard would need to be to transport her from Oz to Kansas? Did she consider where her friends would end up, and if they too would receive their hearts' desires? I have a lot of hearts to assuage as this story wraps up, my own included. Not that completing this book will suddenly make grief disappear, but I will be less apprehensive about crafting a series, in that I have fretted plentifully over finishing this section. I don't know exactly what will happen once it's done, in that we have guests arriving soon and I don't plan to start the next story until the house is relatively quiet. That might not occur until August, allowing me time to read through parts one and two, then see what the heck I've got on my hands! Horses of all sorts of colours is how I'm currently imagining this series, each book its own tale that could stand apart from the rest if a reader so desired.

That's no small feat, let me say, a notion that remains far in the distance, like Kansas to Dorothy as she approaches a massive green castle at the end of the yellow brick road. In this post, hopefully I've dusted off not only the snow but the sleepy poppy residue. Onward I march toward the last few chapters of my story. What lies ahead within my wonderful world of Oz remains for later days.

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