A Contemplative Life

Left corner of the Mandolin quilt attached! No commas required. Oh my goodness, I'm removing HEAPS of commas! Heaps. But it is my way, when writing, to slap a comma here, and here, and here. Not that the and's drip everywhere, but commas, oh my goodness.... And ellipses too, LOL. Lots of those, some of which I have removed. Yet those commas, why do I do this to myself? I think, and I'll leave that comma, it's because as I write I insert internal pauses, both in the prose AND the dialogue. Is that necessary, I'm not sure, but I do it and.... And WHOOPS, there's another comma. Hmmm, gotta have a think on this. Anyway, revisions on Deadfern continue. The Deadfern Miracles , Miracles ala Deadfern. Why Deadfern? I don't know. When I plotted this novel, well, there wasn't a lot of plotting. I've pantsed stories before, but not like this one. This one is unique in many ways, not for all the commas certainly, but in how it meandered through my brain to my ...

During a lovely chat with like-minded friends this afternoon, I was hit hard but kindly with the sense that telling stories is truly my destined.... It's not a job and I used called in the title. It's my manner of using a God-given skill to touch as many hearts as its supposed to. Not that lately I've been pondering why I write or its intended audience. Sometimes the pings on our hearts and souls are merely to remind us then and there what we're doing that might seem unimportant to us or others does carry weight, have meaning, own a purpose. And to know that within my soul meant a lot to me, means much right now, why I'm typing this entry. I don't know if it's related to the story I'm revising, but certainly The Deadfern Miracles possesses a deeper layer than the tagline I came up with yesterday: A love story about miracles, marriages, best friends, second chances, and grace. Grace figures heavily, yet receives last billing. That's probably becaus...

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...

The Warm Hearted quilt neatly folded and resting on the back of the couch.   I so badly want to sew on the Warm Hearted Quilt this evening, but my forearm still has an Aquaphor-covered wound and I don't want to slap a band-aid on it because band-aids of all varieties (plastic or fabric) give me a rash. I did receive good news today that the spot biopsied was benign, which is GREAT! I juxtapose that with a dear friend's youngest son, who is in his forties and suffering from lung cancer. Enduring toxic chemotherapy in the hopes he'll survive long enough so his youngest child, three years old, will remember him. Sigh. We can't plan life other than daft outlines for what we'd love to occur. A week ago, when I had the biopsy, I stitched hearts like all the other days I'd been stitching hearts; I had a piece of gauze taped over the wound and no Aquaphor in sight. Since then, I've done very little sewing on that quilt. This afternoon I managed some Peace Round the ...

My first Kawandi quilt, which perhaps I've posted previously, but it was the easiest shot to include. Finished last year, and I hope to make another one someday. The writing, sewing, getting up at way too early of the morning, lol. Pondering more prayer time. Though I wish all the sorrows of the world didn't require intercessions. Mulling over what I might write about, in regard to Suze, Richard, etc. Yet grateful I'm in this writing mood or mode or jag or whatever it is that compels me to type a lot of melodramatic hoo haa. Thinking about how the summer solstice is now nearly a month past, and while I can discern light behind the southern treeline, it's still pretty dark outside, though the marine layer is part of that, not allowing as much light as would otherwise emerge. Grateful for a warm laptop on my lap since I didn't put on extra pajama pants, lol. Not that it's cold, but it's the North Coast and it's not sweltering. For which I'm also thankf...

I'm pretty fluid here lately, not sure why other than I'm making up for posts not written when visitors graced our home. I didn't write fiction yesterday, and this morning didn't feel it would occur. Then the marine layer arrived, but not in its usual takeover kind of way. It was mottled, unable to fully grasp the North Coast with both hands. Instead it possessed a shaky grip that occasionally gave way to the beauty in the photo above. That view inspired me to write what sits below, enough of a scene to usher in perhaps the rest of a chapter. I'm posting this before I continue the writing, but after having read through it, adjusting the minor points, erasing the biggest errors. Because sometimes the marine layer relents. And sometimes the writing squeaks through. Enjoy and have a beautiful day! Chapter 6   Clouds intruded on the morning Richard and Gilly left for South San Francisco. Gilly was behind the wheel, Suze noticed, watching them from the front room windo...

Gigi Chicken, quite contemplative. May 2026; photo courtesy of my husband. I remember fifty years ago as the bicentennial approached; I was very excited to celebrate something so seemingly momentous! Bicentennial quarters were the rage, lol, as well as the sense of being aware of a part of history I would recall throughout my lifetime. Fifty years later, I'm not planning to celebrate America's independence day other than perhaps going to some local fireworks with my bestie, visiting for the weekend. More on my mind are things far less temporal, corporeal. The kinds of notions one ponders as age imparts. For certainly, I'm not ten years old any more, LOL. Clouds from May 2026. Yesterday my bestie noted that in where we live, amid nature and its marvelous spoils, a quiet life removed from even a medium town's bustle has altered my husband and me, to which I heartily agreed. This was spoken as we watched one of the three World Cup games, she LOVES football and tournaments....

My husband at Fountains Abbey, Yorkshire, in October 2019. This doesn't have much to do with the post, but was the photo on my screensaver when I sat down to write this post.  Deep Space Nine and character development mattering more than plot. As well as a way to process what seems like a plethora of extended family illnesses. 'Nuff said.... So I'm writing about Suze and family in Jumpville . This is the second of four short stories/novellas in what will be Book Five of The Enran Chronicles . I had some plot ideas, but what seems to be foremost is character development. And that matters, as I've moved their timeline up twenty-eight years, ahem. But what else I've found is something I heard while watching the DS9 documentary What We Left Behind: Looking Back at Star Trek: Deep Space Nine . The writers were discussing a particular episode, and I tend to associate it with "In Purgatory's Shadow" , as well as its conclusion "By Inferno's Light...