Anna Scott Graham's Blog, page 33

Slipping back into my realm

A shot from the air as I approached our local airport.

Boy it is good to be home. It's lovely to travel, don't misconstrue me. But wow, I am glad to be back in my usual sphere.

Having made that distinction, I'll be stepping away again in a few days, lol. Need to visit other members of the family closer to home. Planes are great, but old fashioned road trips have their charms.

I didn't waste any time reclaiming my routine this morning; I sat with my most recent manuscript, plopped myself about two-thirds into it and read till I reached The End. My goodness I missed that aspect of my life, good to reacquaint myself with the writing in a very simple manner.

Summer is an intriguing season, known for getaways and warm days. Breaks from expected activities, reunions with beloveds. Long days permit all kinds of thrills, temperate evenings allowing for excursions apart from one's typical expectations. In winter I hunker down. In summer....

I want to experience heat and light and greenery. I wish to expand my horizons, both in departing from home and welcoming others here. This past week was full of granddaughter giggles, sister-in-law chats, and evenings spent with my daughter and her other half after their work days had ended. I listened to the lake lapping against the shore, as well as my own heart soaking up a different kind of quiet, removed from writing and sewing, fully immersed in a place separate yet teeming with others. Maybe writing is like that a little bit, juggling characters, but all those interactions are two dimensional, as well as of my own making, ha ha.

One other aspect of being on holiday is how otherworldly it seems, as though an alternate universe. Or maybe 2023 is the year of changed realities. I certainly felt different, in that I was the second eldest, but more stark was the notion of being on the other side of one's existence, where time speeds past in a blinding light, the awareness of life's brevity breathing down my neck. But I never felt threatened or trapped, merely grateful for the accrued decades, wisdom and insight and perspective rare gifts that balanced out aching knees and the like. I am a grandmother, no getting around that, but young at heart, and mostly healthy, thank you Lord!

And I'm aware that this life is centered on this day, despite impending plans for another trip, ahem. This day in late-ish July is sunny, breezy, warm. It's full of twittering birds and bees hovering over a variety of blooms. It's the gentle ping of wind chimes and the notable squawk of texts and the sense of how grand is our residence on this planet at this time in history. But also how minuscule is our presence, like the tender dragonflies that float nearby or the butterflies or seeds drifting amid the wind. Another fine line to tread, being cognizant of ourselves as vital cogs in the machine as well as crumbs in the universe. Yet we are here for some purpose, and this post is one of today's exercises in how best to live. To be grateful, mindful, content. It's a beautiful summer day in Northern California. Wishing you an equally awesome moment in this world.

Mid-holiday musings

Sleep has been hard to manage on this trip to the Midwest, but waking early allows me time for back/hip exercises and copious solitary moments greatly enhanced by sitting in my sister-in-law's sunroom listening to the lake, which laps gently or voraciously against the shore. This morning is of the ferocious style, a clear day with a strong breeze, the waves not quite whitecaps. Large geese have been spotted, a dark gray heron too. Frogs attempt to get into where my granddaughters sleep, and we joke that those amphibians don't get to go inside because they don't pay rent. Other than missing my better half, who is keeping an eye on our place, I'm enjoying a marvelous getaway.

Well, I did break my pinky left toe, ahem. Going down the loft stairs a little carelessly, I banged it hard, thought nothing of it until much later in the day. Now it's taped to the one beside it, and I'll avoid the loft where my granddaughters play with toys from a previous generation.

Otherwise..... Being here is lovely; I haven't visited in summer since 2019. Yet I spent a week here this past January as my brother-in-law died. It's hard to place those wintry days alongside summer's explosion of leafy trees, vibrant wildflowers, expansive greenery and the noisy lake, which six months ago was silenced by a thick layer of ice. Now that body of water roars as though making up for all those quiet weeks, and I can picture our beloved sitting across from me in the sunroom, his coffee in hand, a smile on his face as we talk of the grandgirls, nieces to him, but just as adored as who they are to me. We'd chat about getting a few dozen ears of corn for that night's supper, then he'd go to his feet for a refill of coffee. He was an earnest, selfless soul, hard-working with a sly wit. This place isn't the same without him.

Yet the lake continues to churn, birds twitter, frogs hop about. We'll purchase corn this morning, no more than a dozen ears for the six of us. My son-in-law made Sunday gravy yesterday, maybe one of the neighbors will drop by with zucchini. A trip to the playground is planned, perhaps some EPP lessons for my youngest granddaughter who wants to learn to sew hexies. Her older sister is keen to make another paper-pieced block, and we bought some fabric yesterday for that very activity, hehehe. Time seems to halt in this place as though the lake absorbs the minutes and hours into its depths, trapping those seconds as if wanting to freeze them forever. Yet it's already Tuesday, this week humming along as though time swirls around us, keeping the memories of one missing safely from our hearts. It's a strange experience which I won't ponder further, other than to remark how grateful I am to be here. Life is short. Best to spend with loved ones whenever possible.

Finished corners

Not much to say about this quilt, other than I LOVE how it turned out! And how glad I am to have finished it in three days instead of four, lol. Now it's packed for travel tomorrow, but here are some pics as I completed it.

I used Art Gallery fabric and some batik for the binding, hoping those cottons wouldn't be too difficult in the hand-stitching. They were good as gold, and I'm very grateful to have employed them.

Batiks and some Australian aboriginal prints made up the front, a few of these I have had for a long time. Batiks aren't my faves for EPP, better to use them in machine piecing. Kona Berry makes up the small squares.

I took a lot of pictures for myself as I hand-quilted, one of that method's perks being the time to admire the gorgeous fabrics that make up the top. The backing fabrics were also special; the rainbow flower extravaganza at the top was a wideback piece from my eldest daughter. The lighter flower fabric was from my youngest girl. And the pink panel section is one of the first fabrics I ever bought. Very nice to use it here.

How awesome to fashion such a treasure, maybe I don't consider that enough. I've been sewing quilts for over nine years and I never tire of them, kind of how I love writing novels. While I often draw comparisons between those hobbies, a quilt is far more cuddly, ha ha. It's warm and soothing, it can be used for many moments. Goes right in the wash, easily popped into the dryer, then employed again. And again. And again.

Books can be read repeatedly, but sometimes the spoiler effect hampers the full enjoyment. A quilt pattern can be reused, as the fabrics are rarely the same, front and back and binding. Not that I could give up writing, nor can I imagine not sewing. These two hobbies satisfy my creative drive in complementary manners. My goodness, I am so glad to have them as outlets. Now to prep for a holiday, then back to my regularly scheduled posting.

Four corners

With two days left, all that remains on quilt construction is half the binding to be attached to the back and a date with my washer and dryer. Yesterday was a heavy duty sewing machine day, the likes of which made me grateful this morning to have accomplished the bulk of the work. As I pinned the binding, I listened to a an old playlist newly renamed with a few additions, which has inadvertently become yet one more soundtrack for my fictional WIP series. But now with a name, I can refer to it here with an actual moniker: Four Corners. Not that I know what that means in the grand scheme, but it's something.

The photo above seemed the perfect shot for this post; the four corners of my fabric WIP, one mitered corner completed. I've been wondering for a couple days what Four Corners means in my story, but for my quilt, it's marvelous to have so much done. It's nice to know I can still knock out not a rush job but a good piece of sewing, even adding some hand-quilting to boot! I haven't packed a single item of clothing for my upcoming trip, lol, but the quilt will definitely be traveling with me.

Adding music to my phone was another must, and I need to add my writing folder to my list. Not sure when I'll have time to scribble plot notes, hanging out with family the priority. But maybe early in the morning, if I'm not stitching Cornflower blocks. If I have time, I'll write the songs on my WIP & Playlists page.

Part of Four Corners suddenly figuring so heavily in my life is allowing fleeting notions to take hold, whether they are tangible like quilts or playlists or ethereal like book ideas or grace to act as catalysts to peace or art or kindnesses or healing. Within this series I know of three corners and I'm trying not to think too hard about what the fourth might be, a family or plot line that currently sits beyond my knowledge. Or maybe I'm the fourth corner, like breaking down the fourth wall. Oh wow, that would be a wild plot twist in a fictional novel, lol! Not that I'm going to include myself in this book, but once I finish this story, maybe I'll think back to this night, watching the MLB All Star Game while listening to some fave tunes as I wrote this scattered post about quilting, writing, prepping for a trip, and mulling over four corners.

Four days for a finish?

Another quilt top is DONE! However, I leave for a little holiday on Friday and want to bring a completed quilt with me. I sewed the binding together before snapping the picture above, yet that strip requires pressing. And a back needs to be acquired, then a sandwich made, basting to follow, then machine quilting. Said binding then will require attachment, the whole kit'n'kaboodle tossed in the laundry. I'm flying east after lunch on the fourteenth, hopefully I can pull it off before then!
The last few weeks have been a marvelous whirlwind of visitors, familial and friendly. I faffed around with this quilt, help coming from my grandson in the designing. When time was available, I sewed rows, then stitched those together, and after a couple of cloudy days spent gabbing with an old buddy from my junior high days, there lies many squares little and large alongside rectangles aching for total completion.  Currently I'm seated outside on a gloriously sunny afternoon so strikingly summer-like it's as though the last few days have been just as vibrant. Photographing the quilt top seemed perfect on such a fabulous July day, like the sun's sudden presence was merely waiting for me to finish sewing.
I *think* I can get this project finished by Friday. I won't be fiddling with my novel, at least not the manuscript. I have big plans to start writing when I get home, so while I fashion a quilt back and press a binding strip and baste and machine quilt I will be deep in thought toward my story. Chats with my friend have provided me much to ponder, both in reconnecting with a pal and the essence of our lives lived in the spirit of grace. I very well might use our topics in the upcoming yarn-spinning, or some semblance of those discussions.
I also have marigold seedlings ready for transplant, as well as packing to do. And PT to attend for a sore right hip that has improved with exercises. My goodness it's been a busy summer, with no sigh of slowdown! And that's fine because after this quilt is completed, I plan a little break from quilts in order to concentrate on some autumnal placemats for our household. Ha ha; I say a little break, but what I actually mean is a week or so away from peeking at my sewing To-Do list. Yet those placemats aren't going to quilt themselves and I itch to get back to writing.
Such a blessed set of circumstances, something my friend and I chatted about, also what I mulled over with other recent guests. And what I hoped to impart to my grandson. Our time is best spent with those we love or doing what brings us joy. And with that, I think it's time for a cup of decaf tea, or maybe a caffeine-free coffee. I'll sip that beverage in the beautiful sun, giving thanks for all these treasures.

Action adventure writing (quilt) block

Past Me's grand design accomplishment, hehehe.

I'm a stay inside kinda gal. I like to write and sew and maybe tinker in the garden, but all my life I've preferred indoor recreation. Maybe that was due to growing up in the hot Sacramento Valley, perhaps honed when we lived in England. It's certainly perfect for dwelling in Humboldt County, where the marine layer has encased our neck of the literal and figurative woods for much of this summer. I am FINE WITH THAT, lol. Pastimes that make me happiest usually occur in my office or living room or where paper shapes won't blow away in the breeze.

Equally, I am most comfortable writing familial saga and relationship hoo haa. While I don't mind placing my characters in different worlds or outer space, fierce battles and adventurous treks aren't part of the drama, until now. My next story will be an introduction to some epic goings-on, leading up to some probable grand escapades worthy of far greater storytellers than myself. But sometimes stepping from one's comfort zone is necessary. And if I'm going to pull off this series, inserting a few outdoor exploits is a must.

Fortunately those novels are for Future Me to consider, ha ha. She's tapping her foot, furrowing her brow, arms crossed over her chest as if to say, "Don't make such a big deal of this. It's just arguments accentuated by weapons and threats and...."

I'm not keen on weapons and threats, I proffer, to which she uncrosses her arms, clasping her hands together. She shrugs, then sighs: "Can't make an omelette without breaking some eggs."

Yeah, yeah, I know. I can't sew fabric together without cutting the prints into various shapes. Maybe I can assuage my slight anxiety in that manner; writing adventure scenes is like using my rotary cutter, at times chopping cottons into small pieces. HAH! If only it was that easy.

Or maybe it is, I guess I'll find out. There will be a few quest-like moments in the next installment, perhaps that's the best way to consider it. My protagonist is definitely on an expedition and it's not simple, although it will be based indoors, in a different galaxy. Sometimes living along the North Coast of California feels like having moved to another universe, mist-bearing clouds obscuring what would otherwise be warm-ish summer temperatures. Even on the nicest days I don't wear shorts, preferring capri pants until the sun goes behind the treeline, then I'm back in leggings. This is our second full summer here and I know what to expect. Maybe as this series progresses, the adventurous elements will feel less unsettling, I might even find myself drawn to action scenes! That would indeed be a surprise, but then I never imagined making quilts or being fully immersed in English paper piecing.

Part of a hobby's allure is how it evolves. I choose to write and sew for the basic pleasures, but being stretched beyond my initial expectations has lead to a deeper joy and personal investigation. I still avoid sewing triangles, maybe someday I'll get that brave. I have set myself up for a shite-load of courage with this story, perhaps that will pave the way for flying geese. If nothing else, I'm good at stitching basted shapes and conjuring melodrama. Now to incorporate a few intergalactic grudges and some cool futuristic gadgets into the mix. Don't forget the poignancy and pathos, Past Me hollers, still smirking from her previous triumphs. And the love story, Future Me beckons, gripping several completed manuscripts to her chest.

Yeah, yeah, I reply. Those tales, a few out of my wheelhouse, spur me to drop the hesitations and forge ahead.

Three gifts from Past Me

Last week I was hand-stitching a Cornflower block, and when it came time to add the squares, I was very pleasantly surprised to find the above two prints alternating as the squares. I cut these fabrics weeks ago, forgetting exactly what I had used to make up these blocks. I smiled, began sewing the squares onto the diamonds, thrilled for the inclusion of more than one print as the perimeter.

That one moment stirred further considerations about decisions made previously that later bring great pleasure. How often do I rue mistakes from the past, but rarely might I ponder the blessings reaped by those actions. How innocuous was my choice to use two fabrics for this block, pretty dang happenstance let me say. But in noting this, two others come to mind, one for the garden, and one while writing.

A couple of years ago I planted Sweet William seeds in three locations, two of which were easily impinged upon by deer and other critters. In all three spots the plants have thrived, but only in one have copious blooms managed to emerge, while in the other two, flowers are usually pounced upon as soon as enough of a flower appears. Last year I let weeds grow near the threatened plants, a few flowers opening. The weeds acted as a disguise and again this year Sweet Williams are filling usually picked over flowerbeds, happily co-existing with invasive weeds.

Pinks and purples in various shades make up the Sweet Williams. The yellow flowers are attractive in their own weedy ways.

As for the noveling, I'm still reading through the second part of my current series. Despite so much of this tale in the grasp of Future Me, if not for Past Me's bravery to simply write what was in my heart, I'd not be considering plot twists, character inspirations, or story arcs. Nor would I have taken the necessary steps toward healing.  And for that, Past Me requires a hearty appreciation, as well as a strong hug for her courage to set caution aside and delve into an ethereal realm via fiction. That takes faith that following my heart won't cause further injury.  And guts to remain in this reality when at times it seems so damned difficult.

I could have ripped out plants, planned a boring block, not bothered to write. Giving myself a few props reminds Present Me to heed the course regardless of how silly, futile, or outlandish it seems. Sometimes the most important kindness starts with ourselves. I can see Past Me nodding vehemently, then shrugging, scuffing her shoe on the ground. Keep sticking it out, she seems to say, and enjoy those flowers for me.

Summer reflections

Amid a marvelous wave of visitors, I have steadily continued the morning edits. The stitching together of Book 2 is now viewed with discerning eyes, in that finally it is being read on the heels of Book 1. Most of the loose ends have been neatly sewn in place, but a few ragged edges remain, which I'll get to...sometime. LOL. I'm feeling like the creature above, a newt that greeted me yesterday as I headed outside, remaining along the back steps when I returned indoors. Just hanging out, slightly concealed, but not running into the foliage for protection. I meant to show this picture to my grandson, hopefully I'll remember later today.

His presence is an intriguing element to our lives here, in that he's garnered some insights to how grandparents manage their days, hedged in what would an eight-year-old find interesting. His family arrives tomorrow for a few days out of the heat and they all will return home hopefully with no newts in tow, but good memories as well as some fabric souvenirs, hehehe.

Hard to believe it's already July; 2023 is speeding right along the another year in my life train. Wimbledon starts next week, the solstice has past although our days remain pleasantly lit. Marigold seeds I planted with my grandson have sprouted, but the calendulas aren't as exciting. I have cosmos, sweet pea, and nasturtium plants to put into the ground; it will be fascinating to observe how they respond to mid-summer planting. A quilt to put together calls my name as well as continued read-through edits, which aren't as taxing as full-on revisions, which Book 2 requires, ahem. It's done, but still needs assistance.

Yet I have firmed up some Book 3 ideas, loosely plotted out novels 5 and 6. The fourth installment is fairly solid, not exactly how a series is meant to fall into place, but adapting on the fly is an important element to master, especially as one ages, whether in single or double digits. My grandson has learned that Grandma and Grandpa are indeed getting older, yet we possess a few pearls of wisdom, hah! Constancy is the overriding theme, with the occasional foray into town for errands, maybe an ice cream, an evening on the beach. More beach time awaits when his family arrives, perhaps another soft serve cone too, lol. And certainly more newt sightings, which after all my beloveds depart could become my mascot. I'm ready to hunker down, stitching together the current design on the quilt wall, amassing more notes for Book 3, keeping tabs on sprouted flowers, and of course eliminating the accompanying weeds. Despite summer having just officially started, to me July has always meant the middle of the season, probably because where I grew up the heat had been in force for several weeks. Will that change as my years in Humboldt County increase? Only Future Me knows and she's not telling. Kids return to school next month already, whoa! What the newt would make of such things, who knows. Time to wrap up this slightly scattered post as another magical summer day emerges....

Not my birthday but just as special

Beginning this post, I don't yet have a title. Maybe it will be untitled. It's a quarter after five a few days past the solstice. A thin band of clear sky sits over the eastern horizon while the marine layer attempts a coup.

One of my BFF's is visiting alongside our grandson. The days have been packed with card games, puzzles, conversations, and episodes of the Great British Baking Show from 2016. I know who wins, only because sometime last year I caught a show with the winner who I'd never seen but quickly learned was now a TV host in their own right due to having won the bake-off. That spoiler doesn't diminish my pleasure as gamey hot water crust pies and tennis cakes are presented; who else makes it to the finals is beyond my scope and I don't have to fret the actual outcome.

Yesterday my BFF and I went to Agate Beach just north of Trinidad. She's here to celebrate her birthday which is just as much of a treat for us as it is for her. We sat with a festive quilt beneath us, listening to waves pound the slightly rocky shore; she allowed me to prattle about my fictional WIP, which I need to thank her for today. I've spent my early mornings reading over the prose, making minor adjustments, thoroughly enjoying the beginnings of a saga that currently encompasses six solidly plotted installments, but I'm not prepared to guess how many parts in total will emerge. She asked me about that more than once, and I laughed heartily, truly uncertain how long it will take to reach The End.

Life is kind of similar, in that we have firm plans and sketchy ideas about the future, but who really knows what's gonna happen! God does, if one is inclined to place faith in a deity, otherwise we humans are on our own, flailing about at times or in grooves where things get accomplished. It's now five twenty-eight a.m. and small splashes of light flit along the sky, but the clouds remain in control. Brief hints of blue sky warmed our hearts at the beach yesterday, like icing on the most spectacular birthday cake any baker could produce. Despite knowing the outcome of the 2016 season, the camaraderie within the bake-off tent stirs slight tension within me because one of those amazing folks will suffer some failure, booting them from the competition, similar to the wonder of novels not yet plotted even if I grasp the saga's ultimate conclusion, as well as the rest of what life holds in store, lol.

On our way home, we stopped for treats, enjoying them in the car. I'd been sharing my Eurovision playlist, silly lyrics sung by me to answer my BFF. But I grew slightly serious, warbling one particular line that I'll paraphrase here as not to induce a copyright infringement lawsuit: Heart is the guide, love is the scope, I am the path. Here we go back home, followed by another line to end the tune. 

Snapped about half an hour after the one above, a bright-ish morning to start this awesome day!

Heart is the guide, love is the scope, but I'm not really the path, merely a conduit along an ethereal trans-warp hub that makes up this world, the cosmos, one little section of a day that marks many arrivals in vast manners. Books and quilts and beaches and bake-offs collide on this still slightly cloudy morning, but certainly brighter than previous starts. I hope my BFF has a marvelous day, I know I will!

Random musings

My eight-year-old grandson's first mug rug! Violet Craft and Kaffe Fassett feature heavily alongside the bottom left batik square.

Teaching my grandson the basics of machine sewing has been one main joy of the past week, amid the general pleasures of a youngster's presence. While I had initiated the notion of stitching, he brought it up on his first full day, and by Thursday he had a coaster waiting for the quilt sandwich treatment. He also helped me design a new quilt, which awaits time under the machine when life returns to its regularly scheduled programming.

In these early hours of the day I've managed a good look at recent manuscripts and so far I'm happy with the results. I've come up with the beginning of what will be Book 5 in the series, and the basics for Book 6 are pretty firm in my mind. Those stories are definitely for Future Me, like 2024 Me. Yet it's great to have a road map for this saga; I might know the eventual destination, but how to get there remains a mystery, albeit a little clearer.

Just this morning I had an idea for the currently wafting in my head version of Jen Kingwell's Wandering Wife quilt that might even make it into one of those future books, ha ha! Hard for me to keep my favourite pastimes separated. Instead of machine pieced blocks framed by strips, I'm conjuring orphaned EPP blocks appliqued onto solid fabrics, then placed randomly in the beauty of Kingwell's design. Another project for Future Me, both in the literal and the literary.

And I've learned that one-inch hexies fit perfectly on preemie onesies. More about that soon....