Anna Scott Graham's Blog, page 16

A week from now

 

Trees on our property that won't bow to the wishes of the stars. Photo by my husband.

The Big Dipper and the rest of the stars near it will have moved further westward in the sky. That was the first thing I considered when I peered out the living room window this morning, noting how far westward that constellation has veered. Just a couple of months ago, it was much further eastward, yet I can still see it, twinkling over the treeline as though it told the Redwoods to get out of the way.

Deep breath taken; that's not the only thing to consider, but maybe it's better to start this post with musings about natural phenomena than, well.... Politics isn't even the way to describe the state of America's electoral process. And honestly, I won't delve deeply into what might occur, in that actually in a week all that will definitely happen is advertising won't feature this or that candidate or proposition. In one week, that will have ended.

What comes next is.... Nothing I can fathom at this juncture, so you might ask, "Well then, why bring this up?" Because first I saw those stars, having moved from where I used to see them at unsightly hours of the morning (5 a.m. today, not a bad night's sleep for me). Then I thought about the election. Yet the stars not only emerged first in my mind but have been shining for THOUSANDS of years, ahem. Those stars will outlive, or outshine, every single person breathing on this planet today, 'nuff said. And despite all the cruelties, horrors, outrages, and nefarious schemes that have come and gone in the last millennia, those very stars will continue to twinkle with beautiful grace and awesome power, reminding us frail humans that our world, galaxy even, isn't only about us.

Okay, well, yeah. So true! Does that mean the American election of 2024 doesn't matter? Hell no! But what it means can be qualified in regards to the Big Dipper as, well, not small potatoes, but it puts into perspective what it does mean. That if what I consider the worst possible outcomes occurs, this world isn't going to fall into ruin. I don't want to dismiss the ENORMOUS CONSEQUENCES that I believe will befall the USA if Republicans take the White House. I shudder to think how the rights of women, BIPOC, and LGBTQ Americans will be trampled. I tremble to ponder how fragile the liberty of all Americans to choose their own leader will be compromised. I don't want to sound like an alarmist or paranoid, but to say I don't trust the Republican Party to maintain free and fair elections is an honest statement. And to have to note that feels.... Weird. Icky in a no, I am not a conspiratorially minded person but I don't trust Republicans as far as I could throw any one of them. Which is a damn sad state of affairs, but what my country has become due to the nefarious nature of current Republican party leadership.

I don't mean this post to wander off to the election rabble hinterlands, but in a week, the election will be occurring, although it's already in process what with early voting, which my husband and I participated in last week, hurray! And while I can't believe it's already the thirtieth of October, another manner of time's passage has DRAGGED ENDLESSLY, that of the American electoral process. And it's not going to magically end a week from tomorrow. Regardless of who emerges with the most immediate votes counted, it may last for days, weeks, oh I really don't hope months, but four years ago was a lesson in patience, in hope. In trusting in the system, which despite attempts to thwart it, went ahead as it had for decades, a century or two, in the past. We elected a brand new president in 2020, and hopefully we'll do the same in 2024. 

A woman. A person of color. Kamala Harris, with Tim Walz as her V.P. God willing that is the pair American voters choose to lead this nation. And if another pair is the victor.... Again, God willing, we'll somehow get through it. The Big Dipper hasn't fallen from the sky, and while it doesn't really move Redwood trees to shine its brightest, it maintains its place among the constellations year after year. And I pray that whatever happens in a week, plus those necessary amount of ensuing days, my nation will remain calm, strong, and aware that.... A deep breath is taken, then I simply lift my intercessions aloft, aware a greater good awaits no matter the results of this election, or any other on Earth. I need to keep the faith and remain stalwart in the face of whatever happens.

And now, it's time for lunch.

Being faithful

 

Such a colourful, pretty quilt!

The last few days have been full of sewing; I completed a quilt top, made a backing, then fixed a quilt sandwich, basting it this evening. Now I'm plopped on the sofa while the Golden State Warriors and Los Angeles Clippers clamor in the background. I might not even get to any hand-quilting tonight, but that's okay. It's enough that the quilt is lounging quietly beside me.

I also finished the most complicated (so far) block of the Red Sky at Night EPP. Idle Moments was anything but, yet I took my time, basting, then stitching, a quarter of it each evening, completing it last night, WHEW! Today I cut fabric for the last of the small blocks, bagging it all up with the coordinating papers, then bringing it to where I sew at night. Hand-quilting will share time with hand-sewing over the next few weeks, as I'm hoping to complete the quilt before Thanksgiving.

I read there are sixty pieces in this particular pattern. Dude, that's a LOT of little pieces!

With all this creativity coursing through my veins, I'm grateful tonight to only be writing this post; my feet are achy, I'm tired. I've been pushing the crafty envelope the last few days, but kind of in an auto-pilot manner, not thinking, "Oh my goodness, how am I gonna get all this done?" Or "I don't have time for this now...." Basically I've been listening to my heart, putting one foot in front of the other, not worrying about how it's all going to fall into place. Keeping the faith, you might say, followed by a hearty yawn. I feel like I am gonna sleep REALLY WELL tonight.

Part of the joy of just doing what I feel led to do is knowing, and I mean TRULY BELIEVING, everything is going to be fine. Great. MARVELOUS! Maybe not easy, but.... Certainly doable, then I can veg on the couch at the end of the day. I ate dinner after basting the quilt, but I still needed to put the office back together. And make my bed (where I laid out the backing fabric and actually made the quilt sandwich). And write some emails. Then I wanted to fashion a post because, well, I felt called to write a post, lol. I slap a LOL at the end of that previous sentence, but in all seriousness, keeping the faith, or rather acting on faith, is deeply important to me, a meaningful experience that shapes my world, my beliefs, my core. Again it comes back to not overthinking things, but simply accepting no matter what is asked of me, I'll be able to accomplish it.

Yesterday it was WARM here, as a front headed west, colliding with toasty southern air; we received an inch of rain overnight into this morning, then the sun emerged, but unlike yesterday when I spent a lot of time outside prepping for the rain, today I stayed inside, enjoying the good weather by osmosis. I stretched my back and hips as the sun shone into the room, onto the bed, but not into my eyes because by four p.m., the sun was so low in the sky, I didn't have to squint or close my eyes while lying on my side doing clam shells. It certainly helped that it was already after four by the time I got to that exercise, haha, but I needed to do those stretches, and that was before getting the quilt sandwich onto the basting table.

And now it's coming on seven p.m., halftime for the Warriors and Clippers, LA leading by five points. I'm about done here, not much more to note. I'm keeping the faith, maintaining a hopeful heart, not fretting overtly that which is out of my control, or even within my grasp. Maybe the Warriors will lose, maybe I won't get the quilt completed before Thanksgiving. Yet I'll do my best about the sewing, and leave basketball to the professionals. And I am SO READY for bedtime. Another hour or so and I'm calling this day DONE!

Swapping out sheets and other autumnal alterations

 

This sticker graces the back of my phone case. I LOVE the colour blue, indicative of my political leanings too.

This morning I put flannel sheets on the bed. A few weeks back, maybe even last week, I wore capri pants. However it is now the twenty-fourth of October and I'm already wearing warm PJs to bed, so.... It was inevitable, merely in that seasons alter, wardrobes as well, and finally linens. I've also added an extra blanket on my side of the mattress, obscuring the quilt completely. Which gives me pause about keeping that fabric WIP for myself, in that the crocheted throw extends well over the end of the bed, one of the reasons I was making a new quilt for myself in the first place.

I have a person in mind for that quilt, lol, which hasn't garnered much of my attention recently, too many afternoon errands on the agenda. But I will get to it, maybe today, maybe. Fall housekeeping also calls my name, sigh, and while I'd love to turn a deaf ear to that task, an inner siren blares. Yeah, yeah, I smirk. I'll get to that soon.

Kaffe Fasset and Rashida Coleman-Hale fabrics combine for this Eden block.

But in the meantime, hehehe.... There's this post to craft and another inner signal, that of having read through The Hawk Book One one more time, liking what I've crafted, both for when I wrote it as well as how I have honed it to where it now sits, almost ready for publication. Definitely a product of Past, Future, and Present Me wrapped in a sense of, um.... Destiny is kind far-fetched, but applicable, in that over ten years ago I was struggling to move forward with it, struggling to decide if I should publish what I had written, struggling with my dad's lack of further cancer treatment. I was also buffered by the knowledge two grandchildren were on the way, both of whom are now in freaking FOURTH GRADE, yikes! But ten years ago they were in utero, while The Hawk was kind of like that too.

Oh, did I mention I've voted??? Yup, cast that ballot for Kamala Harris and Tim Walz, WOO HOO! I hope if you are eligible to vote in America's upcoming election, you will exercise that priceless right, and choose Harris/Walz for President and V.P.

More Kaffe Fassett fabric for the petals here.

What else, what else.... I feel like a lot is going on, so much that sewing a quilt together has been pushed off the list of To Do's, although I have been working on the latest Red Sky at Night block. Idle Moments is a total misnomer; this block is about more than my poor brain can handle, but left and right and symmetry have never been my strong suits, so I'm taking it slowly, then rewarding myself with easy but enjoyable Eden blocks. I should count them to ascertain how many remain to assemble. Then do the right thing and baste pieces according to if they are on the top or bottom of the quilt!

It's a Thursday, but feels like a Friday, feels like I'm wrapping up some enormous project, which isn't the case at all. Life currently feels like.... It's like when Dad was done with chemo, but the numbers weren't staying steady and he was investigating other options, not finding anything worth trying. Meanwhile another generation was percolating right along, reminding that life isn't static. That bad things are often buffered by terrific notions. That books might seem beyond what I could wrangle, but quilt-making was a breeze. Like my late forties would go on forever, HAH! Because now my late fifties are racing for the finish line at a pace that feels to wrench my hips totally out of alignment. What gives, I ask Future Me, fully aware she's not gonna say shite.

Some wild and beautiful Anna Maria fabric edges this block; so glad I gave up on the solid gray that had originally been slated as the perimeters.

Yet, she peers at me with a furtive grin. Then clears her throat. Then speaks: Ten years ago you knew things weren't gonna stay the same.

Yeah, I knew that, I sigh.

She nods, then steps close, patting my shoulder. Losing Dad sucked, she sniffles, but little Dr. Benzo was, and still is, amazing.

I smile, Dr. Benzo one of my eldest grandchild's many nicknames when he was a wee lad. Yeah, I warble, clearing my throat.

And Bab-a-rella is quite the gal, Future Me says, wiping something from her eyes.

Yes she is. They all are, I add, thinking about the younger grandkids.

They are. Where have the last ten years gone?

Indeed, I agree. Then I stare at Future Me, still wiping her damp face. I could ponder the upheaval of American politics during the past decade, Covid too, but all that drama is hedged by the words written and comforters made, as well as the love shared while my family altered beyond what I could have conjured at the time. I then glance to Past Me, writing The Hawk, wholly unaware of the sorrows and immense joys awaiting her.

It's gonna be okay, Future Me says, again clearing her throat. Some parts are still gonna, well, suck. She smirks, then continues. But much of it's gonna blow your mind.

Yeah? What's gonna....

She grunts, then stalks off, shaking her head. I breathe deeply, then glance at her, finding she's turned my way, a small smile on her face. Be patient, she whispers. And keep the faith.

I nod, because truthfully, what else is there for me to do....

Small slivers of our existence

 

Yesterday we hosted a woman and her husband for whom our house and property are very meaningful. She grew up here, and he's been accompanying her back to her hometown for over fifty years.

Two years ago they visited, finding a water tank on the southern edge of the forest from where water used to flow to the house. The outbuilding isn't large; the wooden roof was rotten, mosquitoes finding it a haven. It was her quest to locate the structure, merely to satisfy her curiosity. Yet my husband took it as a challenge, fashioning a new roof which he has turned into what he calls The Lookout. He included the railing, making it safe for all ages, and to their delight, it provides a marvelous vantage point to admire the house and woods.

Afterwards we went out for lunch, thoroughly enjoying the camaraderie. She asked what I had been up to, and I noted that in addition to quilting, I was busy with revisions, hoping to publish a third novel later in the year. Both she and her husband were silenced. "You mean, like books?" she said.

I smiled. "Yeah, I like to write."

"What kind of books, like non-fiction?" she asked.

"Fiction," I grinned. "Women's fiction, a little fantasy, sci-fi...."

She sat back in her chair. "Oh my goodness! I had no idea you, I mean, I guess I never asked what you did with your time."

Inwardly I chuckled. While my quilts are pretty, and obviously taking up space on the sofas, her focus was more on the trails and improvements my hubby has made to her childhood stomping grounds. Yet both she and her husband found my authorial exploits fascinating. While she Googled my writing sites, he asked how I thought up my titles, did I experience writer's block. We chatted about it for a good while, then she inquired if I had audio books. I said no and she frowned, then she smiled. "Well, I'm going to tell my daughter about this. She loves to read and...."

It was a lovely manner to conclude our visit. Hugs were shared, then we made our ways from the restaurant. She admonished me to consider audio books, as even reading on a Kindle is too straining for her eyes. I smiled, then we wished each other well. Once in our car, my husband chuckled, noting his joy that my craft had garnered their attention. Rare are the times I talk about my writing, what I had said to them, for it is a solitary pastime, though well complimented by sewing, an obvious endeavor.

I didn't think about it much until this morning, watching the fog drift into our neck of the literal woods. What I do as an author is mostly for myself, for as I told them, I always wanted to write, and woo boy once I got started.... What is an author supposed to look like, act like? We're just like everyone else, except our efforts largely live under the radar. That goes for both traditionally published and indie authors alike, in that there are MANY of us, lol, and a mere handful are well known.

Yet my stories are available in a twenty-first century manner that writers of decades and centuries previous couldn't imagine. What that means in the grand scheme is kind of like what that water tank meant to those who made it. At the time it was vital infrastructure. Now it's a testament to one woman's memory and determination to find it as well as my husband's eagerness to transform it into his interpretation of our property. Just little specks of who we are and why we're here really, pouring love, and at times sweat, as well as the occasional tear or three onto the canvas of our corporeal lives. I made it clear to them my hubby had built that lookout all on his own, then he regaled hauling the wooden joists and marine-grade plywood up to what had once been a necessary, then forgotten, element of the homestead. Yet I can't help but wonder if his amazing effort will now be buffered by a less obvious but perhaps equally fascinating detail when they consider this place. That in the house in which she spent all her childhood and adolescence, other realms are created, some with forests, some on distant planets, and some including the Pacific Ocean. Just small slivers of who we are, and what we'll leave behind.

Changing my mind

 

Bright but...a mess. Tilda and Anna Maria fabrics feature prominently.

My husband was away for a few days, visiting our son. I took the opportunity to do a fair amount of reading on The Hawk Book 1, going to two sessions of PT for my right hip and knee, raking leaves, designing a quilt, then redesigning a quilt. Because sometimes fast isn't best.

Fast is what I wanted this quilt to be; eight-inch squares would sew up VERY SPEEDILY, yet they looked a mess, but this is for me, for winter, and for much of that season it wouldn't even be wholly visible on the bed, covered by a slender but necessary blanket I crocheted eons ago. So basically this quilt doesn't need to be spectacular, merely WARM. I'll double the batting, back it with flannel, and be super happy on cold nights, lol.

Yet.... When I went to bed after the initial design, I wasn't happy. I wasn't mad either, not at myself for the haphazard manner of putting together a new quilt top, but I sighed as I grew sleepy, considering options for how to nice up this rather pedantic effort. The fabrics are my faves, but they're also BUSY. Too active to be smushed right against one another. Too pretty to be thrown together without buffers to ease their distractive beauty. Too nice to covered by a crocheted throw? No, but.... But I wanted to make this quickly, or as fast as possible for a large blanket. It's going to be around 72" by 88", whoa momma! And I don't plan to machine quilt any of it, hah! (Future Me just rolled her eyes, fyi.) I'll hand quilt it and by the time it's done, winter will be in full swing and I'll be oh-so-ready to drape it on my side of our bed!

Wholly improved! And I didn't have to cut all the small squares, finding them in my stash. Now that's a WIN!

So okay, that's, uh, GREAT! Especially now, since I cut more fabric, then aligned the pieces as you see above. I searched my stash for enough low volume prints, using up some oldies that I guess were saved just for this moment. Past Me nods, wondering when I was going to use these fabrics purchased ages ago, or ages to me, not to her. Timeline conundrums erupt, but whatever. The main thing is I have a design for which all facets of myself are pleased, and now it's just a matter of sewing together this first half, then designing the second half, then....

Then I breathe deeply, wondering if there is time enough to do that before guests arrive in early November. I hope so. I hope I can get the quilt top stitched, by machine lol, then perhaps basted. Then it can be draped over the sofa until the evenings, when we lounge in the living room, watching TV or chatting. Again, the hand-quilting is going to be a languid affair, I'm in no hurry for that aspect. Yet I am wishing to reach that part as soon as possible amid the usual hoo-haa of life.

So, that's the latest on a sunny, warm-ish Sunday afternoon. I'm torn between wanting to start sewing and desiring a treat of ice cream eaten outside in the sun. I think I'll start with the latter, then return inside. Because in the latter part of October, warm-ish days are to be savoured. That quilt will be sewn together eventually, so off I go for a little taste of chocolate and blackberry bliss!

When night is day

 

The Hunter's Moon, October 2024.

Bright moonlight proffers alternative glimpse of the world. Also how catastrophes make one feel like there is no day, only the suffocating darkness.

Well, that's a mouthful, notes I made over an hour ago while sitting in the not quite dark living room feasting upon the moonlit landscape. The Hunter's Moon is indeed bright and beautiful in our clear Humboldt sky, and despite being awake since, oh my goodness, three a.m., I was cognizant enough to note a title for today's entry and scribble a couple of sentences for later perusal.

So now it's later, which can be qualified because while it's also five thirty (at the time of writing) in the morning, when one is up at three, five thirty seems like mid-day, kind of how the night appeared, not really like night at all. It's currently this twilight-night, that marvelous moon illuminating far beyond what spotlights could achieve. I was up early yesterday (although not so stupid early like today) and the moon was already slipping past the northern treeline. But today, woo boy! It's truly like an alternate universe, similar to how the shore appears at low tide, revealing a world often hidden by nature.

Cloudless nights are rare here, so I don't mind not sleeping when I'm, ahem, supposed to, with the treat of witnessing such a spectacle. Yet there are considerations to be noted, because there is day and there is night. And even on the brightest night, night still casts shadows, still feels cloying, still stirs anxiety that day seems to dismiss, even cloudy days. A dear friend of mine is facing her son's cancer diagnosis with the added burden of living far away from him. Others in my realm are dealing with cancer, its prevalence frightening. I will mention the upcoming election in the vein of something which seems suffocating. I am SO EAGER for the fifth of November, not that we'll have an answer right away, but at least all this uncertainty will be traded for a short-lived (God willing) ambiguity that (again God willing) will be for a much greater good. Well, it will be for some kind of greater good, as I firmly, if not at all times freely embrace ALL THINGS are for the greater good. Just that sometimes the greater good is on a timeline so stretched I'm reminded of Martin Luther King's refrain of ...free at last, free at last, thank God almighty we are free at last.

I stepped outside to snap the landscape, but night mode on my camera distorted the moonlight. Yet I did capture these gorgeous stars.

However the election goes, soon it will be past. Soon the morning will emerge on this eighteenth day of October, and soon the Hunter's Moon will give way to a new moon. I won't speculate on the health of a man in his early forties who I have known since he was barely twenty years old because it's terrifying to ponder someone with a young family wracked by devastating illness. Not that it's too close to what my sister-in-law faced a couple of years ago, the rest of my family also bereft as we fretted her and our beloved's waning battle with cancer, but because, well, it's not quite six a.m., too damn early in the day to wrap my head around such awful circumstances. Easier to skirt around that by noting bright moonlight proffers alternate glimpses of the world when catastrophes make one feel like there is no day, only suffocating darkness. This is why I wrote Life Stories after my brother-in-law died, trying to assuage my heart and mind at what seemed like senseless loss. It wasn't, I mean, it was but it wasn't, in that everyone dies and sometimes the manner of death feels utterly without merit or meaning. Much in this life seems that way, but again, to quote Dr. King, "With this faith we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, free at last, free at last, thank God almighty we are free at last."

Just need to put things in perspective, bright moonlight and grace making that possible.

Small sewing (amid larger currents)

Last night I worked on a Red Sky at Night block. Small pieces are a little futzy, as well as making sure the perimeter shapes are correctly basted so I don't find myself removing stitches when pressing it flat. One of the differences with this kind of EPP, that will be incorporated into a machine-pieced quilt, is seam allowances can't remain tucked around papers, or shapes once papers are removed. Plenty to consider as many minutes turn into accumulated hand-sewing.

I was pondering other things last night, amid the Golden State Warriors/LA Lakers game that caught my husband's attention. We're grateful for the near-return of basketball, as another lengthy season winds down; the election will have occurred in three weeks, and I am SO READY for that, although I don't anticipate a winner announced immediately. I miss the British manner of elections, where the Prime Minister simply calls for one, and within weeks it's DONE. This summer kind of felt that way when Kamala Harris became the Democratic candidate, and I wonder if others in this nation noted how an abbreviated style behooves the mental stamina of an entire country. If nothing else, the last couple of months has seemed palatable in that regard, for the little of the spectacle I permit. Yet I can't escape it, trying to maintain a positive attitude because it's out of my hands and pointless to fret.

Except I'm writing about it here because I can't wholly expunge it from my brain. Not that I can do more to sway voters to choose Harris than to say she is a FAR MORE CAPABLE CANDIDATE than the alternative, which is an extremely mild way of putting it, in my opinion. I won't go further than that, there's no need. Hardly a more polarizing election has occurred in recent memory, other than the one four years ago, and maybe what happened in 1960 when Americans had to choose between Kennedy and Nixon. The US elected its first Catholic president, which I wrote about in The Hawk. Now that seems tame in comparison.

All those small stitches of last night are adding up to a rather pretty quilt block, despite my initial mild fears that I'd find it tiresome. I really prefer two-inch paper pieces, the shape not so important. And by evening's near-end, I basted additional shapes, taking great care to align them so I wouldn't have to sew them twice. Sometimes surprises happen, for I found myself wondering if I might make another block from this pattern, called Hummingbird. We'll see how I'm feeling after completing another tricky block, maybe I'll be burned out. I'm feeling that way with the election, yet that matters so much more. I'm torn between trying not to stress out while swallowing hard at how incomprehensible I find the Republican party. And being aware that people who don't feel as I do probably wonder why I feel as I do. Or maybe they are so self-assured they don't care. I don't know, because for all the maelstrom, by keeping a low profile, I merely hear this awkward buzz, like the occasional ringing of my tinnitus. It's been bothersome lately because, well, I've been imbibing in caffeine, which I have found does aggravate it. Whatever....

But Whatever only works when the stakes are low. In this American election, the stakes are ENORMOUS. They are also, as I said previously, out of my hands. Such a conundrum, in that worrying about it is futile and thinking I can change it is also futile. Maybe I just needed to note the futility, better than pretending it doesn't exist, the it being a watershed for my country regardless of whoever wins. Our first female president or.... Okay, I can't go there. But maybe in writing that, I've gone far enough, sigh. That's farther than I wished to proceed, on many levels. So yeah, small sewing isn't so bad; it's a challenge, and perhaps is preparing me for what lies ahead for my nation. I don't know, but again in considering all this, my heart feels a little less....strangled. Dang, not the way I want to feel about it at all, but one more time, well, thanks for listening.

One of the longest finishes in my quilting world

 

Loads of Art Gallery fabrics, some linens, a few French fabrics, and one Ruby Star Society print make for a new quilt.

Oh wow. This quilt, for my husband, has been completed today. It began.... Ages ago, May 2023. I had to scroll through my pictures folder to find exactly when I began laying 4.5" wide strips on the design wall. Never has one of my machine-pieced quilts languished SO LONG, sigh. And that it's for my hubby adds more guilt to my heart, but now it's done, la la la la la la!

A little bit of a close-up. Quilted at the top and bottom of every row, then each strip was hand-quilted, which I enjoyed, but wow, that's a lot of hand-sewing.

Ahem. I'm rolling my eyes at myself, but yeah, it's done. Once washed it's not quite as wide (or long) as I had hoped. But it's pretty (and it's FINISHED) and he's happy and no longer does it take up space on the sofa making me cringe for how much time it has taken to complete it.

Another kinda close-up. I LOVED using the linen fabrics, and really want to make something else with what I have waiting in my stash. I'll see how they hold up to repeated washings on this first, then move forward.

I have NO PROBLEM with an EPP quilt taking years. And part of why it lingered was, well, because it was for my better half, who didn't NEED a new comforter, but I was tired of the one on his side of our bed, a nice quilt I made a decade ago that was too wide for his half of the king mattress, but it worked. Over a year ago, I decided to make him a new bed quilt, using autumnal fabrics that I ASSUMED would be perfect for the fall of that year. 2023. Uh-huh.

Took some shots of the hand-quilting this morning, second to last strip being completed.

Anyway.... At some point I sewed those rows together, basted it, then, well, set it aside for other shinies. Earlier this year, like in May or June, I started machine quilting it, but it was big and heavy and I gave up that endeavor to hand-quilt the rest. But once I finished that, I found it required more quilting, which I kinda knew was gonna happen, but I thought I'd have machine-quilted the whole thing and didn't stress out about the hand-quilting until I gave up the machine quilting and, well, yeah.

Yeah. Well, uh....yeah. But now, TA-DA, it's done! Woo-hoo and all that celebratory oration!

However...(LOL) I want to say here that I'm sorry to my husband for taking WAY TOO LONG to finish this. I've already apologized to him, and he was very sweet, bless his heart. Yet I feel like I need to, um, beat myself up a wee bit, or perhaps remind myself that projects require finishes. EPP too, which means no new starts until I wrap up at least ONE of the many hand-stitched quilts crying in totes for attention. Okay, I get it. Really. I mean it. I am not going to start another English paper-pieced quilt until I finish one. And as for machine piecing...

In noting the back, I considered how it represents all the work done on a novel that is never seen by the reader, edits and formatting and last-minute revisions, etc....

A stack of similar fabrics sits on the work table that I was going to use to make myself a new bed quilt. Now that I know it needs to be bigger than the one my husband received, Jeez Louise! That certainly puts the brakes on my enthusiasm. Maybe I'll make a Christmas-themed quilt next. I actually don't have one of those despite owning HEAPS of Christmas fabric (more eye rolling).

The last strip I hand-quilted. Such beautiful fabrics all of them, but blue is my fave colour. And now I have reclaimed all my good safety pins for basting, yay!

That will be a thought for tomorrow. Today I've cast off the blah-meh-yeah mood, traded it for a slightly guilty conscience that shall be assuaged as soon as I post this entry. The bed quilt for my beloved is DONE. Time to move right along the creative road....

Feeling like I've been rolling around in a tumble dryer

 

Jawbreaker candy that illustrates my current state of body and mind.

Physically, emotionally, mentally.... Are there any other ways to be roughed up? Not spiritually, because only in that sense am I feeling like my feet are on the ground. It's a weird Sunday, but hey, sometimes they happen.

Occasionally it's a bad Monday. Or a wild Tuesday, or discombobulated Wednesday or.... You get the drift, in that at times life feels HARD. Unpleasant. Frustrating. Wearying, etc, etc, etc. I need some ice cream, or a strong drink. Ice cream is better, lol, and now that the sun is shining, perhaps it's time to scoop up some Ben & Jerry's Phish Food. No gluten in that, just small chocolate fish amid delicious chocolate ice cream and plenteous marshmallow filling. Yeah, I'm going to retrieve that, then return here.

Okay, that was delicious, maybe not nutritionally satisfying.... But I'm in a mood today, feeling overwhelmed and grateful, lonely and uplifted, mildly disgusted and elated. Good grief! That's a lot of good and meh swirling.

But sometimes that's life; did I already write that in this post? I spent the morning reading through what will be Book 1 of The Hawk, and after the edit-fest that took place earlier this year, I was humbled to find even more to excise. Two words continued to be the bane of my authorial existence: that and just. Way too many of them, although I didn't really start slashing that until a good third of my way through the whole dang thing months ago. Hopefully as I continue with these novels, that will be a mere hint to its current foothold, hah!

Yet (YET!), I have also read through Book 4 of The Enran Chronicles and was BLOWN AWAY by how much I loved it. Especially the end, omg! Gotta take the that with the good, lol, and wow, yeah, Book 4 is a definite keeper. Not that Books 1, 2, and 3 are chopped liver, but I just, no wait, no just. I LOVE Book 4. I'm proud of Book 4. Book 4 doesn't have a clearly defined cliffhanger, but so much has come before it that readers don't need another yank on their chain.

Other issues are spinning me like a yo-yo, my back for instance, but I'll go to PT on Tuesday. My prayer list is lengthy, lots of cancer diagnoses, dang! I have either a small cold or belated reactions to my recent flu/Covid shots. Our day began with heavy fog, now it's sunny. We had our first autumnal rain, of which I was glad, as it's been quite dry. Does the weather have anything to do with my upheaval, I just, no, I don't know. No just, no that. I'm a writer for goodness sake; move past those annoying words!

I'm also human; weak, imperfect, uncertain about a lot of things, but steeped in a goodness that forgives a multitude of whiny outbursts. That is how I feel right now, like a kid in need of a hug and maybe a mild kick up my backside. Okay, not on my back, perhaps just, ARRGGHHH!!! NO JUST! A flick along my ear, or something similar. Dude, I am as glitchy as those smashed jawbreakers, also as relieved as yesterday morning's post-rain sky, pictured below.

Grace is abundant, I just (WHATEVER) need to remember to embrace it. And not get on my own case for just or that or any other irritant. Happy Sunday to you, and a wonderful week ahead for all of us.

Enjoying semi-retirement

I didn't mean to cut back a dahlia, but sometimes it happens.

We might get some rain tonight, so today was spent prepping for it. Leaves were raked, the wood area cleaned, and boy my back is feeling all that exercise!

I've lamented not doing more in the garden, but have earned my outdoor stripes over the last few days. Amaryllis have been cut down, blackberry vines among them whacked back. My better half dumped several bins of refuse, bless him! I swept the back patio and am looking forward to how much leftover dust is washed away by the precipitation, perhaps a quarter-inch worth. I can't complain about the impending wet weather, because it's nearly the middle of October and we haven't had much in the way of damp days. In fact, we've enjoyed loads of warm temps for our neck of the North Coast. Yet it's time for a change.

Huh, not much about retirement, semi or otherwise, so far in this post. I did feel quite relaxed while raking this morning, the sun shining, a breeze blowing dust this way and that. Last year I kind of forgot to rake the leaves of a black walnut tree that grows near our house, so I felt it necessary to do so this year, or at least get as many off the ground before they became soggy and harder to gather. Plus I had read several chapters of Book 4 in my latest series, so it was time to get my backside outside.

While 2024 has not been a year for me in the garden, it's also a non-writing year, which is not to say I haven't accomplished anything concerning novels. It's been a publishing sort of year; maybe in semi-retirement I'll concentrate on writing, then release a bunch of stories. Or this year is a one-off, who knows? Perhaps in 2025 I'll focus on getting seeds and plants in the ground while spinning wild yarns about.... Ha ha, won't give that away, other than to say I am ACHING to expand my characters' horizons beyond the four novels I have written about them (two available for download).

Maybe this post is also about 2024 barreling into the home stretch; how can it be the eleventh of October already? That just seems unreal! Yet it's absolutely spot-on, wow. I just received my Covid and flu vaccines, and need to get another Tdap (tetanus, diphtheria, and pertussis) as it's been ten years since my last. Ten years, seriously? Ten years ago I wasn't at all considering any kind of retirement-like lifestyle. Now I'm steeped in it, not fretting overtly about what doesn't get done. Like writing a new book, ahem. Or dealing with the garden, other than the bare minimum. And I haven't been especially into sewing either, other than the evening hand-stitching, like the photo below, a bit of what I did tonight. After I finish this post, I hope to make a dent in a Red Sky at Night EPP block, then maybe baste some diamonds for another Eden block. But I'm weary from all the raking and it's already seven thirty p.m. No idea what I'll manage before bedtime.

Meandering while securing the front of a quilt to the back.

Such is the life of a woman firmly in her late fifties. Age creeps up, then stealthily slips its sinewy arms around a body, twisting here, taunting there, reminding this author/quilter/occasional gardener that I'll never feel any better than I do right now, LOL. I sure hope it rains tonight. I have no desire to do more than revise and sew tomorrow!