Anna Scott Graham's Blog, page 4

Bright July skies

The breaks in the cloud are faint, but cannot be dismissed!

The sun isn't shining, a menacing marine layer keeping those of us along the North Coast aching in the gray. However to the southeast a break in the mundane is trying to emerge. This delicious light stirs me to write this post, because despite it being the high days of summer, our landscape has felt like the dark days of late autumn for too damn long.

A metaphor perhaps for all that blankets our current world scene? Sure! Big ugly legislation, miserable conditions everywhere we turn, natural disasters wreaking havoc, tender souls wrenched from reality; all these traumas want to strip our joy, leave us bereft. I woke to another gray morning, assuming the flat dull horizon would remain. However peeks of brightness remind me that all is not lost. Goodness prevails.

Does this mean the sun and blue sky are about to muscle in, shoving the dreariness aside? No. The marine layer is far too entrenched for that to occur AT THIS MOMENT IN TIME. But EVENTUALLY the marine layer will lose its persnickety strong will, rendering the gray obsolete. WHEN that will happen I don't know, October maybe? Or in an hour possibly. This darkness and cruelty will not last forever.

Never has the sun looked more beautiful. Or hopeful, might I add.

Okay, time to check the chicks. Do they notice the extra brightness today? Probably not, but I do. I notice, embrace it, and smile in thanksgiving. 

Not always about chickens

Those chicks are doing well, although coccidiosis remains an irritant, and I had to add Corid to their water again this morning. Our bossy chick Camilla was quite docile in my care earlier today; hopefully her spunk returns, as well as good health.

Good health cannot be overrated for chicks, and certainly not for us humans. Dear friends have been struggling for the last three months, as my pal Teri is back in hospital, where she has resided for much of the last ten weeks. Teri remains feisty, but her cognitive abilities are strained, and her spouse Anson is reaching the end of his emotional tether. They are the age my father would be had he lived, yet my husband and I view them not as parental substitutes. They are our contemporaries, as well as inadvertent guides on our aging journeys.

I sent out a prayer request to my sisters this morning concerning Teri and Anson, asking for love, support, and especially strength. Only now I realize I didn't seek healing, which might seem like a mistake, or perhaps I assumed they would add that to their intercessions. I would *LOVE* Teri to get better. Yet at this moment, healing is a luxury: Peace is paramount. Strength to endure another day of dwelling in a facility, being disconnected from one's own preferences, straining to discern all that physicians say; those are the immediate concerns. To merely sit in a hospital all day, watching one so beloved talk nonsense, becomes excruciating. All those years of togetherness have boiled down to something so unwanted and alien. Maintaining peace at this moment matters most.

Healing might emerge, and we will rejoice at that juncture if we are so blessed. For now heart and soul equilibrium is the biggest necessity. We don't get to choose how we arrive at the latter stages of our lives. Dignity and integrity matters for every person. Our right to live and how we conclude that journey is a fundamental right and vital to be championed. And that is where I am today.

Chicken post #3: To perch or not remains the question

 

Chick party tonight!

Chicks are pretty funny. One has earned a moniker for her behavior at the feeder; Camilla relentlessly roots out anyone near her slot, taking it back if someone manages to push her aside, and scratching while eating. My husband suggested the name when I mentioned that Camilla thought she was the new queen, but no one could take Queenie's place in my heart.

Lol.

We didn't plan to name any of them until personalities emerged, and Camilla takes the freaking CAKE for personality right now. The rest are figuring out their places in the pecking order, yet not a single one has managed to actually grasp the perch rungs, hah! They are starting to play under it, attempting to fly on top of it, a lot of wing-flapping this morning when I opened the brooder. A dear friend is visiting, who saw them last week, and she said they have grown! Which was good to hear because we think they're bigger, but we see them daily and other than a few tail feathers having sprouted, they seem about the same.

I woke at a stupid early hour today, yet that afforded me time to re-format three books for D2D. I'm pondering an Amazon release, but will check into that later, as I was too tired to ponder it at, um, four-something in the morning. I woke to a dream of one of my grandkids calling for help, certainly not a pleasant way to start the day, however I achieved some book work, and feel better about That Which Can Be Remembered being available with scene breaks. I'd have loved to deal with that before today, but right now chickens rule the roost.

One of these days they'll own their perch too, lol. In the meantime, I think I need another cuppa. Caffeinated please! 

Chicken post #2: RIP Queenie

So named for the dark gold tiara on her head, Queenie was a feisty and sweet chick, bless her!

It was bound to happen; we lost another chick last night, my beloved Queenie. She was fine early in the day, but became shy, staying under the heat plate that we've nicknamed Mama. No obvious malady was apparent, and after dinner my husband checked on the chicks, finding Queenie just past Mama, lying on the shavings, already in chick heaven.

Sigh....

Today's adventure was finding another chick suffering from suspicious poops. I diagnosed coccidiosis, then headed out for Corid so I could dose the entire flock. Was this what struck Queenie? Perhaps, but we'll never know as we didn't witness her eliminations. (Sorry if this is chick TMI.) For the next five days the chicks will drink water spiked with Corid, then have a two week break, with four more days of treatment to follow. The afflicted chick was out and about this evening, and I cleaned out under Mama, not wanting them to sleep in nasty poo. We'll keep the brooder as clean as possible for the next few days, and hopefully our remaining eight chicks will be fine.

I am *pretty tired*! I probably haven't been so geared to infant care since grandkids were arriving, lol! It's fun to watch chick antics, especially a large barnevelder who unscrupulously muscles other chicks from their spots at the feeder. Queenie held her own against this chick, who tonight my husband named Camilla, as I noted said chick THOUGHT she was the queen, but only Queenie would claim that moniker. He slyly mentioned Camilla, I smiled and nodded, and now one chick has her handle.

Yesterday this chick was studying the perch, planning a takeover!

And thus goes another day of my life! Right now it feels like all chickens, all the time. One finally figured out the little perch is for more than standing under; I bet tomorrow a couple will be calling it their future home, hehehe.

Chicken post #1

The original ten chicks. They never used the tap-waterers, so those are now gone, as is one of the gold chicks, sad face.

Been a busy few days, what with friends visiting, chickens arriving, and the reality that not all baby chicks survive into a third day.

A gold star chick who I call Queenie due to the tiara-shaped dark gold on her head. She's a very docile, sweet gal!

Aside from that last sobering truth, the rest of the weekend has been AWESOME! Chickens, dude, lol! They scurry from one edge of the brooder to another, to under the heat plate, then back out again. They napped for over two hours not long after we brought them home, so of course we fretted (needlessly) until they started peering out from the sides of the heat plate, then emerged into the brooder proper. Today they were active most of the day, scratching chick crumble out of the feeder, investigating the perimeter and finding interesting spots to peck. I held several (hopefully all of them, although five look very similar, so who knows), gently stroking their heads and speaking softly that they were good chickies, sweet chickies, and very loved. Yet despite the depth of our newfound affection, one didn't last the day. Part of life, I know, and hopefully tomorrow will brighter.

A barnevelder chick. They have adorable chipmunk markings on their backs.

I'm still working on fixing books, but chickens take a fair amount of time, and friends were a gracious gift all weekend! I taught a seven-year-old to sew Kawandi-style, and she took home a coaster and thread to finish her mug rug.

Before chicks, a trip to the Pacific occurred; always a thrill to see the ocean, and the sunshine too.

So yeah, first chicken post. Not the last. I'll probably hear peeping/twittering in my dreams, hehehe!  

D2D transition update

Just a quick post to inform readers that in the following books all line breaks indicating a change of scene within a chapter have been removed. I will address this issue ASAP, but in the meantime please accept my apology for the abrupt alterations within the novels listed.

Many thanks for your patience as I continue to grapple with moving from Smashwords to Draft2Digital.

 

A Love Story: The Enran Chronicles Book One

Life Stories: The Enran Chronicles Book Two

Far Away from Home: The Enran Chronicles Book Three

 

The Possibility of What If: That Which Can Be Remembered Book One

Gracious Mysteries: That Which Can Be Remembered Book Two

That Which Can Be Remembered: Series Conclusion 

Never prudent to assume anything

A heart quilt.

Just finished Part One of On Being Brave. And other incidents of bravery, lol.

Welp, as my eldest daughter sometimes exclaims, I finished the first part of my current noveling WIP. Should probably update my WIP page, I do believe.

But first I wanted to write this entry, posting pics of the beautiful Mr. Carter hearts English paper piecing quilt. This pattern, from Tales of Cloth, was an easy and uplifting project I began late last year after my nation elected a president I do not find at all appealing. Cutting, basting, then stitching heart blocks was SO NECESSARY. There aren't enough exclamation points in existence to exemplify how imperative it was to construct those blocks, then begin to place them accordingly.

So many gorgeous prints in heaps of beautiful colours!

So, scattered within this post more to do with writing are shots of a quilt I am still missing in my evening repertoire. Not sure when I'll make another, but dang, one day I hope to! Yet, as today's title notes, it's not wise to presume anything. Because just a smidge over twenty K into the first of four short stories, after completing Chapter Seven, I found I was DONE with the initial tale! 

Done as in COMPLETED, FINITO, FINISHED, etc, etc, etc. As done with that story (but not the entire book) as I was DONE with the heart quilt top (but not the entire cozy). WHOA!

Being D-O-N-E is all a matter of perspective, perseverance, and the indescribable feeling of once again existing in the writing zone. Oh. My. GOODNESS! It's so great to have reached The End of that small tale, and just as inspiring is pondering the start of Part Two tomorrow. I mean, I could spend the morning making soup, and I might, no saying I won't, although I also might write another Chapter One. Each story corresponds to a set of characters within The Enran Chronicles. And seeing there are three books (shameless plug) available (with the fourth destined for an autumn release), it's fitting to have four stories within Book Five. Or at least I think so.

Left side of quilt.

And since it's my series, my characters, my toes in the noveling river, that's how it's going to proceed. On Being Brave isn't merely Book Five's title, but my immediate state of emotional bearing. Oh, and have I mentioned I currently have laryngitis? My husband is better, thank the LORD, but from his cold I have retrieved the complete inability to speak out loud. Lots of whispering, well, some whispering, but vocal rest is a must, so I mumble when absolutely necessary. I'm being quiet in speech, but dang prolific in prose.

Today I wrote nearly four thousand words. Some this morning, some this afternoon. Reaching the end of Chapter Seven, I realized, "Hey, I think I can close up this story here. Today. Um, yay!" Checking my brief notes accumulated at the document's completion, all that I had slated to occur will be an epilogue at the book's true end. Up next is Squee, Jale, Yamist, Garfillan, Da'Nota and those dwelling on Enran proper. If you want to know their backstories, check out Book Three: Far Away From Home.

Bottom right side of quilt.

That's not so much a (shameless) plug as merely a nod to the scope of this series and of Book Five, as well as insight to my indefatigable imagination. Also to my love of character-driven science fiction. And to how deeply this cast has wormed its way into my heart. Thank goodness only my voice is gone. If the day comes that I can't write....

Welp, I'll ponder that if it becomes an issue. Not prudent to assume anything these days, nor to exclude The Possibility of What If. Another shameless plug, lol, for a fantasy series I just finished reading again for the sheer pleasure of it. Which is why I write, for the utter joy of crafting tales, building worlds, reveling in other people's drama, hahahaha!

One more of the whole kit'n'kaboodle. My goodness this is a pretty quilt!

And with that, time to update the WIP page, then move on with perhaps some stretches for my lower back. Not that stretching will heal my vocal chords, but keeping as limber as possible (for as long as possible, ahem) is important as I get older. Writing short stories is a great manner to reintegrate the noveling process into my life. It's been a couple of years since I wrote something new, maybe why it feels so MARVELOUS to have wrapped up one small tale. Enjoy your week, and may magnificent surprises bring awesome thrills your way!

Life without a heart quilt

Not the heart quilt but what I worked on last night for my medallion quilt also known as Alexandria. Pics of heart quilt coming soon!

Kind of like life without grandkids around, or being on the other side of the solstice.

It's an emptiness or loss that you knew couldn't be avoided. Eventually one quilt top is completed, and even if you make the pattern again, different fabrics proffer an altered vibe. And IF the same fabrics in exactly the same placement were used, the manner of application cannot be duplicated. Life isn't static. Everything changes.

Yesterday after lunch our daughter and her crew departed for their home. Items were left behind, nothing essential, merely a way to remind us that a return trip is desired, or how I interpret it, lol. I threw some things in the wash, collected scattered toys and scraps of paper from art projects off the floor. I still need to toss their milk, as we drink lactose free and have no use for regular two percent. Last night as I sat to sew, having brought all my hoo haa back to the coffee table, I suddenly felt an odd melancholy, first for the strange stillness, then for what I was stitching. I retrieved stuff for Alexandria; diamonds required basting, then to be sewn into pairs, then added to a hexagon block. Yet despite being English paper piecing, this wasn't at all similar to my heart quilt, which I still need to photograph. That heart quilt truly made inroads that now make me ponder its existence within my little old life.

Our lives are....what we make of them. They can be loud or unobtrusive, meaningful or lacking in focus. And they can be all these things swirled together! And/or might be better, for as I said, we change, grow, regress, grow again, change again, regress again (SIGH), and on and on we meander along paths which can't be predicted no matter HOW MUCH we think we've prepared and/or anticipated. I assumed the weather this weekend was going to be steeped in early morning clouds, but I was wrong! Yesterday and today we've had sunny starts, a total thrill as I've gotten to admire the amazing solstice sunrise, WOO HOO! Our grandsons jumped on the trampoline much of yesterday morning while the sun shone so brightly, so kindly, and so oddly might I add. Summers along the North Coast aren't known for being the brightest times of the year even if the sun is at its highest peaks in the sky. Yet we were wholly blessed by lovely weather, great adventures, and togetherness that came like a gift, then departed like the breaking mist, leaving us as faraway grandparents grateful for the moments shared with beloveds, then lamenting the eventual distance.

Kind of how I feel when days become less summery as the sun heads south along the horizon. And how I felt last night sewing on a different quilt, although the heart quilt is merely yards away, resting on the work table in my office.

And, might I add, it's not leaving anytime soon because 1) I need to turn it into a FINISHED quilt and 2) It's for a dear friend when she retires, and that is a future activity as yet undetermined.

So that awesome collection of hearts will be hanging around, and when the time comes, I'll be faffing with it as I construct its other side, which I am currently planning to be a Kawandi-style design. That in itself will be SLOW STITCHING, so indeed that heart quilt top shall grace our home for a good while. But the exact method of handling all those heart blocks is OVER. DONE. FINITO. COMPLETED. And that very process will never happen again.

What I was, um, grappling with about thirteen hours ago, ahem.

Yet to analyze that wasn't for last night. I was tired. I wanted to sew, not having done any for a couple of days what with beloveds visiting. And I needed to ponder/process this unique sensation, which I can't say I've overtly experienced other than when I finished making the blocks for my Cornflower quilt. I truly ADORED that design, can admire the finished quilt from where I now sit on the sofa, typing this on a laptop in the living room. I didn't feel like going into the office to write this post, mostly because I'm still doing laundry and I can hear the washer and dryer's chimes better downstairs, and not have to trudge up and down stairs, LOLOL. And sometimes I like to change up my day, like keeping lots of EPP projects on hand to switch between them. But now the heart quilt is out of the rotation. The sun is starting its very slow at the moment trek southward, losing a few seconds of discernible light each day. By August that acceleration will increase, though for now the long days remain, even if the grandkids have gone home and the heart quilt lives in the office.

And for that awesome array of light, I am indeed VERY THANKFUL! One or two changes at a time please.

Quilt top finish and other WIPs

Row B 6 upside down. The final row of this quilt!

I have yet to snap a photo of the Mr. Carter Heart EPP quilt top, but I will. In a few days. After our youngest daughter and her boys have visited. They are on their way, but I have time to wax a little poetically. Or something like that.

Finishing that quilt top happened last night, kind of by accident. I was tired. The San Francisco Giants were losing to the Cleveland Guardians. While sewing, I realized I was nearly done with the project, but constant yawns made me wonder if I'd have the gumption to complete it. Plus all the needles I had threaded were running out, and while it wasn't dark where I was sitting, the light was growing dim. Even so close to the solstice, eventually evening wins out.

The Giants didn't win, but that was after I went to bed. After I threaded ONE MORE NEEDLE (using my reading glasses, which are stronger than my prescription lenses, ahem), I sewed the final side of a heart block, then stared at the seam. I had taken pictures a couple of days ago, when lining up the last row, for this very post. But I didn't think I'd have finished the quilt before this particular entry was written.

Yet sometimes life is like that. It's not spoilers really, more of, "Oh this TRULY COOL THING happened and, well, yeah."

Yeah. I finished that beautiful pattern, having used gorgeously warm prints, and in a few days I'll hang it on the line, take the appropriate photographs, and VOILA, another quilt top is DONE.

Clover clipping the row to the quilt. Now all that sewing is a memory.

Lots of ALL CAPS in this post, sorry! I don't mean to shout, but DANG it's nice to have that completed. It's really awesome to have family on their way, also sweet to squeeze in this entry, lol. LOL! Um, yeah, lol. It's also BITCHIN' to have six chapters written, LOL! Lots of laughing out loud, especially since the Giants won TODAY, hahaha. Writing didn't happen this morning, trying to prep the house for guests, but I read over Chapter 6 and am pretty happy. Happy to be writing, happy with WHAT I'm writing, LOL.

LOL.

Uh yeah, it's that kind of post.

Anyways.... I made Jello for my husband, who is still recovering, and the kitchen smells like red sweet, um, sweetness. It's strawberry flavour (the Jello, not the kitchen), but I highly doubt it tastes like strawberry, just red. And sweet.

LOL.

Beds are made, the house bathroom mucked off, dining table adorned with new summer placemats. I could have swept, but my right knee is achy. Earlier today the meniscus went TWING while I was merely walking. Getting old isn't easy, but it's better than not aging.

ANYWAYS.... That's the latest here. Happy Juneteenth! Happy red sweet smelling Jello! Happy six chapters and VERY HAPPY quilt top finish!

(Meh meniscus notwithstanding....) 

Four chapters in...

Brollies in the green colourway; Kaffe Fassett designed this gorgeous fabric, which I am turning into a placemat.

Mourning and rejoicing simultaneously, because what else is there to do?

At the end of last week, I finally started writing. Kind of a Just Do It! sort of situation, and much to my thrilled relief, I have nearly twelve thousand words accumulated. That's pretty darn fine amid occurrences that feel pretty damn horrific. "Rejoice with those who rejoice, mourn with those who mourn." Romans 12.15. Because truly, that's what we're called to do.

In the smuggled correspondence with his best friend Eberhard Bethge, imprisoned Lutheran pastor and theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote that most of his fellow prisoners only knew whatever emotion was most prevalent; they were frightened if circumstances were poor, greedy when opportunities arose, despairing as though no hope existed. Bonhoeffer sounds a little judgemental here, yet his complaints are valid, in that he then espouses how in the novel Witiko, the protagonist thusly named seeks to live a 'whole' life. Bonhoeffer notes the only way to do so is to embrace a vast array of experiences and emotions, feeling in full the variety life offers, good and bad. The America I grew up in seems to have vanished in thin air, one reason I attend protests and contact my reps, so my grandchildren might know a glimmer of liberty. We CANNOT let these thugs, both in the government and their supporters, steal our joy. Bonhoeffer didn't let his jailers curtail his vital theological work, and I can't let abominable politicians and assassins thwart my writing.

Having said all THAT, I am grateful the Minnesota shooting suspect has been captured, dismayed by Utah senator Mike Lee's grossly inappropriate tweets about the murders. I pray for the Hortman family, for the Hoffmans to recover fully, and for those like Senator Lee to never endure what the Hortman and Hoffman families are suffering. I have to keep my heart and head above the din, which means paying attention to my own business, ahem. It also means to enjoy what I do, write about such blessings while keeping in my thoughts those in sorrow. A dear friend is in hospital, while my own hubby is STILL SICK. Our hearts take those lickings, but we keep on.....

Not fighting, or not all the time. We engage in love, in struggles, in sadness, in victory. Victories feel rather thin these days, why I'm so pleased with those four chapters. Why I'm chuffed to only have one row left to stitch onto my heart quilt. Why I'm working on simply placemats, gifts for my hubby, as he really likes Kaffe Fassett's Brollies print. I bought three more colourways of it with the granddaughters a couple of weeks ago, and pinned the last two placemats yesterday. Tonight's stitching will be that last row of heart blocks, finishing one of two placemats, while watching some sort of sport. Is basketball on, I don't even know. The SF Giants lost two of three games to the LA Dodgers. Weird that amid the ongoing attempt to establish a dictatorship, there's still America's pastime to consider, like multiple realities exist within this nation. Maybe it's always been like that, separate realms for Rich Americans, Poor Americans, White Americans, Black Americans, Hispanic Americans, Asian Americans, Native Americans, Straight Americans, LGBTQIA+ Americans, Jewish Americans, Muslim Americans, Atheist Americans, Buddhist Americans, Sikh Americans, Nationalistic Christian Americans, Christians Not Seeking To Overthrow The Republic Americans, etc, etc, etc.

Sorry this has drifted off in a vent-tangent. But unlike how blithely the Honorable Senator Mike Lee views the murders of Melissa and Mark Hortman and the attacks on John and Yvette Hoffman, I am sickened by the violence and the dispute of facts toward the suspect. I am aghast at the chilling rhetoric and lack of empathy and how few have taken responsibility. And I am downcast at how another shooting has wreaked havoc on people simply wanting to rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn. For that is what life is about: Sharing in our tandem existence on this earth in all the ways the heart does best. Loving, caring, understanding: That is truly what this life is about.