In A Bookish, Quilty Mood

From a couple days ago, snapped by my husband, seated inside the run with the chickens. I'm gazing at Nadia Chicken, off screen, while most of the rest gather near the fenced off pomegranate bush. I think chicken #8 was sunning herself along the back of the workshop that butts up to the run. Mis-sewing rows, diverticulitis, in general getting older, falling in love with sewing squares again, accepting life isn't in my control, the Serenity Prayer, ironing seams the wrong way, etc, etc, etc.... God, grant me the grace to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Amen. Whew! What a few days it's been, and in that I do include my lost weekend of sorts, spent suffering from an acute attack of diverticulitis. The recovery has been about as much of a 180 that the misery was, which at the end, or rather beginning of this day, is absolutely WONDERFUL. Needless to say, but I'll type it regardless, I am happy...

Top two rows are stitched together, with the third pinned and waiting. Welp, as my eldest likes to say, it's Tuesday. The equinox has occurred, fall in place mostly in the lessening daylight, although this morning we started with clear skies and bright sun, once the sun rose, lol. I was knocked off my feet over the weekend, just starting to feel human again. Sometimes life throw curve balls, and we end up on our backsides, wondering what the hey's going on. September is Suicide Prevention Awareness Month. Three of my beloveds have taken their lives, including my brother and niece. I wanted to write something meaningful about the subject, but now I feel like I'm just scraping the surface, yet it's imperative to tell those we love who are fighting depression that we are here for them, that they matter. 988 is the number to call or text if you need help. For veterans, call 988 and press 1 to connect with counselors who understand your experiences. Please know that so many ...

Hmm, I guess this is how life is now; dark, cramped, alone. Yes, imagine you are Owl Chicken; one moment you're trying to get comfortable for sleep, then next you're shoved aside, falling down a sharp drop into darkness. Utter darkness. Solitary darkness, although you can hear peeps and tiny clucks above you. The rest of the flock is above you, but now your world is altered. Is that how those abducted by ICE feel in detention centers? Snatched from their lives, they languish in facilities where their humanity is devalued by deplorable living conditions. Or how trans veterans are being forced into retirement and denied full benefits after loyally serving this nation. Any number of situations can be listed, people being maltreated for a variety of reasons that the current administration have imposed due to cruelty, bias, and worse. The current American administration is displaying distinct hatred to segments of this nation without remorse or apology, despite what God made know th...

The wall on the other side of the chicken coop, from where Owl Chicken was rescued. An unplanned allegory to what is happening in America via Owl Chicken's unexpected tumble between walls. So yeah, two weeks ago today my husband and I trooped to the coop to feed the chickens. Nothing was amiss, although usually I have this task alone, but he was awake and it was lovely to have company.  Lovely and necessary because upon opening the door and finding the chickens waiting on the wall, we only counted seven. Seven is NOT eight. Seven was a quiet siren that caused my heart to race and my feet to move, scouting the area for signs of a predator while my husband inspected the coop proper for any evidence of infiltration. For those agonizing moments, I wanted to cry; Owl is my fave chicken. Owl was named for dots over her eyes when she was a tiny chick, but don't ask me why I chose Owl, it simply landed on her like destiny. And now, weeks later, what was her destiny? To have simply disa...

We went to France in 1999, but I can't find any pictures from the trip. Instead here's a 1999 shot from our British backyard. Okay so spoiler alert, but I think this scene from Home and Far Away is worth it. Meanwhile my right arm has been tingling for over twenty minutes; maybe the pinched nerve is better? Enjoy and happy Monday!   That morning it was only the women in the house, French spoken by two, but understood by all three. Chella also asked Sooz a few questions silently, but Sooz didn’t reveal much, other than yes she loved Richard, and no, she wasn’t sure how, when, or what they would tell Gilly. Sooz wasn’t even certain if she would sleep with Richard that night, though she then smirked inwardly, not wanting to be apart from him. She missed him greatly, but also feared how this new element of their relationship would develop. Then she sighed, seated in the front room, a fire crackling. Chella had gone to the porch, talking in their native language to Max as thoug...

I've had this in mind for a while. Didn't anticipate making it quite yet, but.... So my shoulder remains fiddly. Har-rumph! Yesterday I eked out a truncated evening of handsewing, feeling a *wee bit guilty* about it, because if I was smart, I would do NO handsewing, but last night that notion made me feel twitchy. So I sewed. And I ached. And I went to bed, sleeping on my left side to coddle my right shoulder, but instead the odd position made my right knee twitchy, oi! Thankfully I slept in this morning, but have done no hand-stitching, nor will I this evening. Instead I'm gonna blather all about it, as well as remark on making a quilt top in an afternoon as if hand-sewing meant nothing to me. (WAH WAH WAH!!! Insert crying face emoji HERE!) What I noticed right off the sewing machine bat was how easily it was to slip back into machine sewing. With my earplugs firm in my ears. And noise cancelling headphones over my earplug-protected ears. Lol. I've used earplugs and he...

Maybe how the moon appeared to Sooz. Photo from 2024. Thank goodness that despite an achy shoulder, I can still manage revisions, lol. Was just reading Chapter 21 from Home and Far Away , and I had to put a paragraph here. P.S.... If you want Sooz's backstory, get a copy of Far Away from Home: The Enran Chronicles Book Three . Don't worry about Books One and Two ; Book Three concerns Noth in another galaxy, and as he doesn't recall his past, those earlier segments won't be missed (Though if you want the whole ball of wax, go for it!). One of the joys about writing this particular series is while the books connect, certain ones can be read as standalones. Far Away from Home and Home and Far Away are like that, just saying, hehehe. Anyways, shameless plugs aside, more to matter is what Home and Far Away is truly about, that of love mattering more than anything, that people are worthy of said love regardless of their origins. Sooz is discovering that imminently, but w...

The short row of stitches directly under the lower safety pin are those done SLOWLY with my left hand. In sewing, book publishing, and everyday life.... I considered this post a few days ago when I was happily appliqueing by hand Lucy Boston (LB) blocks. Since then my right shoulder has asserted its right to be cranky, and I don't know for how long this will be the case. Hence, perseverance now applies to waiting out troublesome joints, being fully aware that what will be most certainly will be. Ahem. Anyways.... I pondered this post while hand-stitching a project I truly had no idea would come to fruition. Perhaps this entry is also about being faithful to one's inner spirit, or Spirit, depending on your beliefs. Either way, being faithful, obedient even (now there's an idea to spark blog post musings....) to what calls upon your heart is EXTREMELY VITAL. It's why I have books available for readers, why a Lucy Boston quilt in an altered form continues to evolve (as ear...