A little quiet time

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Guests left today. We enjoyed marvelous weather, sparkling conversations, plenty of yummy baking, card games, Scrabble adventures, and a great trip to the beach. Seeds were started; lettuce, green beans, carrots, and peas for my husband. I chose cosmos, marigolds, poppies and calendulas. Maybe by late April small plants will be ready to go into the ground, in addition to mixed flower seeds sown, assuming I pull a bunch of weeds, lol.

I also have been reading through A Love Story, finding a few niggles that I have fixed in the document. Once I'm done, I'll upload a new version, but it's great to read it as a (nearly) finished novel. I've also been going through Life Stories, the second book in the series, which I will probably publish in July or August. I'm also hoping to re-release The Hawk in May, which is wonderful, but then I wonder when I'll find the opportunity for actual writing. Maybe in April, maybe. We're going east to visit friends at the end of next month, and while I don't mind starting a novel, then leaving it for a bit, I'm not eager to commit myself to beginning a new book, although mulling it over is fine.

Last year was full of output; many quilts sewn, four novel written. I didn't do jack in the garden compared to 2022, so maybe that element is an every other year kind of endeavor. As for the writing and sewing, I'm happy for ebbs and flows on an every other year basis, because publishing books is valuable, and I'm focusing on hand stitching, which is MUCH SLOWER than machine piecing.

Maybe this is a quiet kind of year in the actual creative effort, the garden notwithstanding. Perhaps revising and sewing small blocks needs to balance the shininess of fresh stories spilling from my brain, through my fingers, as fabrics decorate the design wall, then turn into gorgeous quilt tops. I'm kind of regurgitating my recent considerations in this post, having been fairly absent from my pastimes while enjoying the presence of beloveds. Now that the house is just me and my fella, my brain starts pondering what I'll do tomorrow besides laundry.

Yesterday after putting the seeded peat pellets in the greenhouse, I came across the ladybird/bug pictured above, meandering around my nasturtiums. That small bug slipped under leaves, then back into my view, and within seconds I had safely captured it for as long as the digital photo lasts. My books are similar, digital files I can refresh, enduring as long as the internet remains viable. As for quilts, well, I give most away, but sometimes I get them back, like the first one I ever made, which will be for another post, but wow, that's been a joy to admire. It needs a little love in the repair department, but after ten years is looking pretty great. Machine piecing makes for quick finishes, but I adore the intimacy of English paper piecing, also its transportability. Maybe I'm just super thankful my hobbies are so flexible, fitting into my life, heart, and soul with little stress involved.

That's the key behind successful pastimes, that they enhance our existences, not act as burdens. I'm looking forward to getting my hands dirty in the garden, where last year I couldn't be bothered. Last year was about managing grief via crafted prose and sewn comforters. This year is passing along the books, but keeping the stitching close to home. Or at least that's how things are looking in mid-March. I'll take it, appreciating what my head and hands create on any given day. Like this post, the ladybird picture, and whatever else happens tonight before I crash hard in my bed.

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