In A Bookish, Quilty Mood

  Humboldt Bay sunset from 21 March, 2026. Photo courtesy of my husband. Well, the actual writing of, say, thirty-four hundred words might take upwards of three hours. That's what I accomplished today. But it's not merely writing. There's the clean-up, then the read-through. And the Metamucil break, the check laundry break, the texting with my husband about adding food to the chicken feeder break.... It's a process longer than it used to be. When I was younger, writing ate up the morning. In those days, my better half was off to work fairly early, leaving me plenteous hours to write, and I did so with great joy for the sense of doing something I truly loved. How well I did it, that's debatable, lol. When he retired and we moved to Humboldt County, no longer was I alone all day, but we found a rhythm to my writing, not that chickens or Metamucil was involved back then. Oh, and stretches. Well, I might have done that, but not as often as I should. But now I do them ju...

And...two weeks of caffeine-free living! As well as a week since I last blogged, lol. Hosting grandkids will do that to a person. But the lads are home and I've had a good night's sleep, and now it's time to jump back into my other life, that of an author who quilts and keeps chickens.... But before I get into that, let me say that not imbibing in caffeine has been an overall good experience, albeit not truly alleviating my tinnitus as much as I would hope. But I'm not exhausted at night, nor do I need a lift mid-morning. I'll continue to avoid caffeine as long as I feel the need.  So, grandsons visiting: Our eldest chap made scones with Grandpa, while I taught the younger grandson how to use my sewing machine! Both boys enjoyed the chickens, as well as trekking around, and I played a lot of card games and did plenteous art. My youngest grandson can read EVERYTHING, that was marvelous, while the elder received a calculus lesson from Grandpa, lol. I didn't do any...

29 December, 2025; yours truly at the north jetty of Humboldt Bay. Photo courtesy of my husband. I should be doing several other things, like prepping for possible weekend guests, spending time in the glorious sunshine, making the bed, putting away laundry, etc, etc, etc. But a few days ago I wrote a scene about coming down from the hill of Anger. And since I had posted a previous scene about the perils of climbing the mountain of Fury , well.... Anyway, here's the scene. It's another reminder that love is better than its opposite, and always will be, insert heart emoji HERE.       Half an hour later Shauna lay on the sofa, two cups of weak tea on the coffee table within arm’s reach. Rickey remained in her bedroom, scrubbing the floor. She ached hearing him huff and cluck, Spanish spoken under his breath, but not bitterly. She knew some of what he said, how nasty was bile to clean from anything, how her cleaning products were too harsh for the delicate wood. She didn’...

Owl leads a crew of Barnevelders; all photos courtesy of my husband. Recently my husband walked some trails and found he had a pal, namely Owl Chicken. She does like to follow us around outdoors, and it was an adorable trait to add to her history, which months ago was fraught with not the best kind of adventure . Owl on her own, taking in the landscape. Owl and Nadia are our two most brave hens, weathering rain and wind and loving it! Fortunately all the chickies are becoming used to blustery days, as we get some of those here on the North Coast. But trail walking was a new trick, and Owl took to it in her usual style, sticking close to my husband until she felt comfortable wandering ahead, then returning to where he waited. Owl crosses the bridge! The part she DID NOT like was crossing the creek; she eventually did so, bless her, and I guess that point of courage stuck with her, because a few days later she again joined my husband, this time convincing some of her sisters to join the ...

The lighting was different due to the wind blowing the quilt top/back how a fabric project was wont, why I'm putting three versions of this photo within this post. And a cute chicken pic at the end from about five minutes ago, my husband snapping it while closing the coop for the night. Much to note about those trail-happy chickens, but before I write about the hens, I want to share a quilt top/back finish. I wrapped up this medallion project a few days ago, snapped the photos, then found myself hip-deep in writing and sorting photos of the chickens trailing around with my better half. I finished a chapter this morning, prepped lunch, then that better half learned how to make pad gra praw. After lunch, I read over what I'd written, cleaned the coop, then spent the rest of the afternoon folding and hanging up three loads of laundry begun hours earlier. Stacks of shirts, etc, still adorn the back of the couch, while one little sewing project awaits its moment in the proverbial su...

How empty are those who believe by hurting others, they become strong. This notion popped into my head this morning as the crescent moon rose along the southern end of our treeline. I woke at silly o'clock, wasn't sure why, but that moon was the reason, which brought to my mind the message above and below. How empty are those who believe by hurting others, they become strong. It applies to ANYONE who assumes such a pose. World leaders, drug dealers, teenagers who shoot other teenagers: This week in Hoopa , an eighteen-year-old was shot in the head by three teens ages nineteen, eighteen, and fifteen. How empty are those who believe by hurting others, they become strong. Meditating upon this, immediately my feeling was to pity one so deluded. Not to hate them, wish evil upon them, but such pity for the lack of love within them, the EMPTINESS. Such a vast void is their soul. How empty are those who believe by hurting others, they become strong. History proves time and again that d...