A Contemplative Life

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 ...

New mug rug. Fabrics are those I'm considering for the quilt explained below.... At times, this life feels, seems, looks UNFATHOMABLE. Regardless of how faithful we are to a creed, how at peace hearts remain in abject misery, how unshakeable love dwells within us, and despite the FULL SUN we're seeing here on the North Coast, the tyranny and horror and anguish and death suffered by others hits our chest muscles like we are right in the thick of all that darkness. I'm not merely thinking of what's happening in America, or the oncoming winter storm that will cause severe distress for millions in my home nation. There's Gaza, Ukraine, Sudan, Iran.... Massacres in Iran have quelled the protests for now. Yet thousands, perhaps upwards of thirty-three thousand, have died in one government's attempt to throttle democracy. Scores more have perished in other places, I don't wish to diminish those atrocities. But this uprising in Iran is a month old, or it was. And ot...

Gratuitous chicken photo as Owl drinks from a tub in the garden while Cami gazes to the left. This is from Nothing More Complicated: The Hawk Book Four . Stanford Taylor inwardly debates the need for his soul while his longtime housekeeper Agatha Morris proffers the Alka-Seltzer amid 1962's Christmas preparations..... Enjoy!   As families prepared for the holidays, Stanford took stock of his role as an art dealer. He hadn’t blatantly told Eric he would no longer represent him, but Laurie had made Stanford’s feelings clear to both Snyders. Initially Stanford wasn’t sure how he felt about Laurie’s declaration, but it had eased Stanford’s mind, which was still burdened by all Laurie had learned on Thanksgiving. Stanford hadn’t seen Seth since that day, too busy preparing for Eric’s paintings to be shipped to London. The exhibit in New York would close on Sunday, just in time for Christmas. Then the canvases would head for Britain, and after that Stanford wasn’t sure what would happ...

A chicken post. Because I can't ponder the current state of my nation. (Heads-up: I do ponder it, so if you don't want to read that, stop after the third photo.) We've had some AMAZINGLY beautiful late autumn days recently; sun and slight heat and sun and.... Did I mention it was sunny? The chicken's run is wholly in the shade now due to the towering treeline. But the garden, only a few feet away, gets sun for much of the day! And the chickens seem smart enough to know that sunshine is healing. And yesterday, I sat in the run with them. All eight hens (it's still weird to acknowledge they are finally HENS) having the time of their chicken lives! My husband was there too, lopping dead blackberry branches off the vines that cling to the aged fence. The chickens poked around, scratched in the dirt, managed some dustbathing, as well as sunbathing. They chased each other around when one found a tasty treat, but mostly they pecked at the grass, truly happy in this home aw...