A Contemplative Life

This morning's gorgeous sky! Last night my husband and I shared supper with good friends. Before we left our house, marine layer-looking clouds were drifting from the north along the western horizon. I figured that marine layer would spread, and while I'd not been to our host's home, I hoped for a few minutes to admire the blue sky from her place until the clouds firmly took hold. This morning as the marine layer was interrupted by a smidgen of blueish sky, I was brought back to our lovely evening filled with great conversation, delicious food, marvelous friendship AND a clear sky that seemed to defy the marine layer until well past nine p.m.! Our host has beautiful western and southerly views from her backyard,where we ate, chatted, then enjoyed a fire in her firepit. All the while I kept remarking how amazing was the sky, unfettered by the ubiquitous cloud bank. I saw Venus descend, other stars emerge, and the waxing gibbous moon to the south, such astronomical treats! Ou...

Probably. But you never know.... Because novels/very long short stories end as they are wont, both in the form as well as the content. The Deadfern Miracles concluded in a three-chapter marathon over the course of one day, DUDE! I didn't even know I could pull something like that outta my hat. However, this basically untitled tale is taking a more languid course, and equally I am JUST FINE with it. Because, um, the end of this story with no proper name has a slightly, no, definitely darker conclusion. Or the penultimate chapter is chaotic. The one before that one is also on the less stellar side of human reactions. Sometimes those sorts of stories emerge, because life isn't all roses and donuts. Having just read over the entire chapter, all twenty-six hundred-plus words, I'm pleased with the results, if not a little heartsick for the plotline, which I knew was coming from early on. Well, once I grasped this wasn't a short story, then.... Then the eventual end was going...

Seven of eight hens, as one was being camera shy. More about the chickens at the end of this post. While I've placed several excerpts of On Being Brave within this blog, now the end is nearing, so no spoilers. In part for myself, because if I change my mind and drastically alter a chapter, though usually I don't, I also don't need that recorded here. This novel, which wasn't meant to be a novel, carries great hope and some darker undertones. And sometimes it's tricky keeping my head above the rollicking waves, assured of my own safety. I don't write dark fiction. I do write tense, emotionally charged scenes. I write deaths, I write deep loss. But overall a Happily Ever After triumphs because that aligns to my core beliefs. A week or two ago the Sunday reading was about Peter walking on water to meet Christ, standing on the lake. Peter was doing just fine until he took his eyes from Jesus, then promptly began to sink. Jesus hauled him up, and the main takeaway i...

Writing, sewing, um, life. A new day, another chapter in On Being Brave , and the proper photos taken of a brand new quilt! It's a Monday kinda like no other, other than it's simply another Monday afternoon. But joyful bravery adds a new dimension to my life as though I'm the alien, newly arrived on Earth, wondering how cool is this rather gray-skied planet in this little corner of a tremendous world. Washed and decently crinkled; I'll take it! Once again the North Coast is smothered by clouds, but it's good for the Mile Post 18 fire, the inversion layer lessening the oxygen, trapping the smoke, keeping the blaze slightly under wraps. If I was newly landed on this planet, I'd be shocked at how many fires burn, but compared to the enormous fires from years past, California is getting off easy. Canada and the rest of the Pacific Northwest not so much, but as an interloper from outer space, I wouldn't realize that, nor would I actually be aware of how blessed C...

The last heart, almost done! Ten hearts remained after Friday night's stitching. Ten out of over two hundred. Ten hearts that were randomly scattered, a few clumped together. And now all those hearts are hand-quilted, and I'll wash it tomorrow, then mail it off to a lovely person who adores hearts. What could be better? Yet, an English paper-pieced quilt doesn't happen overnight. This particular project began late in 2024, a kit by Jodi Godfrey . I dove into it as, well, as hearts seemed wholly necessary to embrace, as my country fell under an influence absolutely dark and menacing. As I cut fabrics, basted jewel shapes, then stitched them into hearts, my chest muscle was slightly assuaged. And the more I worked on it, amid learning the Kawandi method, the better I felt. Defiant hearts. Strong hearts. Supple hearts. Beating hearts. Wearing my heart on my sleeve hearts. You get the idea. June 2025 Then in June of 2025, I finished the top. What a monumental completion! And a...

The wind stirred as I began snapping pictures. This is the last one, haha.   Butt-ugly was its moniker, lol, until earlier this week. Sticking to the design wall like an unwanted, an unwished for, an undesired....something. That's what this formerly bad idea was until I trimmed the lower edges into something resembling uniformity. Then suddenly I liked it. Suddenly it wasn't egads-awful. It was magical, crazy-quilt magical! It was love that a mother has for a previously unruly child that proffers one heartfelt apology and all the aged hysterics and backslides are forgotten. Ahem. After I trimmed it, I took a picture, then captioned it the Whatnot Quilt. But I think Crazy-Magical Quilt better sums up how I see it. Because I've been staring at it in the photo below for nearly two months every time I do my stretches where the design wall lives, where this bunch of rows that have little in common has been sticking out its tongue with impunity at me. An experiment in sewing rows...