Anna Scott Graham's Blog, page 8

Grateful for spring

For MANY reasons I have been especially thrilled for lengthening days and warmer temps, although gobs of rain have stymied a bit of spring's arrival, or the sense of its presence. The last two days have been GLORIOUS, and today will also be lovely. Tomorrow a little less bright, but certainly warm, then rain returns. This has been one of the wettest March's I can recall.

One question is will April remain soggy, or will it dry up as though winter never occurred, as the last two April's have been. Won't know that answer for over a month, but it will be fascinating to discover. In the meantime, I have books to peruse, currently focused on The Hawk Book Two, which I began reading aloud today. Brave the Skies is the title; I'm still getting used to each installment having a title, lol. I'm also becoming accustomed not only to the joys and healing properties of spring, but of an idea my husband introduced a few weeks back that has been growing on me. We're considering getting baby chicks at the end of May, entering the realm of hosting chickens upon our property!

A few days ago I asked him what had brought on this notion of being keepers of chickens, and he smiled, said he couldn't actually recall. When we purchased this place, the previous owner had chickens in a well-maintained coop, but we didn't want to continue that activity, in part we weren't going to be immediately living here full time, nor could we fathom adding that to the long list of items needed to maintain/upgrade. It was enough to have chosen this lot and home, and despite being raised on a farm, one that did indeed include chickens, I had NO DESIRE to deal with chickens. LOL! Yet, now I, um, do.

We'll see how that pans out, both the getting chicks, then raising them. We've investigated our local feed and seed shops, gathered information from relatives and friends as well as online and through videos. I think that's probably what stoked his interest, watching chicken videos, hah!  One can learn just about anything from various sources, how I began quilting certainly. But quilts don't require feeding or watering, they look after themselves quite well, as do books. Chickens will be another force altogether.

And assuming they become part of the family, they'll end up on the blog. I've already decided to name some, characters from Far Away from Home lending their monikers; Sooz and Squee are top of my list, as well as Gracie, which was the name of a gorgeous fragrant rose we had in Silicon Valley. We're hoping to start with eight chicks, and I'll wait to bestow these names until the chicks exhibit said personalities. We're favouring docile breeds that aren't broody, depending on what's available in our area.

So nice to find a couple of flowers close to opening!

Chickens, dude! In the meantime, one of my volunteer nasturtiums is almost ready to bloom, and I have the border attached for my next Kawandi quilt. More about that in a future entry, as spring continues sharing its healing propensities, thanks be to God!

A long time coming

The last Lucy Boston block DONE! The inner honeycombs are from the Maine fabric store, some not bad fussy cutting if I do say so myself, hehehe.

Sometimes things you don't think you're going to finish get completed. Quilts, books, um.... Well, for me quilts and books are what I enjoy most as pastimes, and washing dishes and doing laundry are in a constant cycle of gathering, then getting sorted, so books and quilts it is.

Okay, rainy weather too. We have had HEAPS and GOBS of rain this month, which is already on the twenty-third day, how the heck did that happen? Where has March gone, or is going, and am I actually going to put thirty Lucy Boston blocks to use and close that quilty-EPP chapter of my life?

Yes, I believe I am. Dang, that's a weird, unpredicted aspect of this year!

Okay, just a little bit of backstory on my Lucy Boston experience. In 2018, when I started English paper piecing, I bought 1.5" Dritz hexagons from Joann, stiff and easy to baste but a bear to fold when sewing blocks together. At some point that year, or early in 2019, I moved onto honeycombs from Paper Pieces, less stiff and certainly smaller. I chose to make blocks for a Lucy Boston design, ordering fabric and more papers from a quilt shop in Maine, if I remember right, as they sold Lucy Boston kits of four different fat-quarter sized prints and the accompanying papers from Paper Pieces in Kentucky, which I do like for many of my EPP projects. They're about the same prices as Jodi Godfrey's Tales of Cloth papers yet the shipping is far cheaper, especially if you order $50 or more, then it's free. The papers are thicker than Jodi's and at times seem just a smidge bigger, but maybe that's just me. I use them interchangeably, but over the years I've become more fond of Jodi's papers for the ease of folding them, that slender difference in thickness noticeable, especially the smaller the papers are. And I'm TRULY finding that now using one-inch honeycombs.

Yet five or six years ago I knew so little about EPP, other than I LOVED IT! I employed fancy fabric and random scraps as I cut slips of prints for those small honeycombs, using a homemade fussy-cutting device I fashioned from cards included in stamps bought online to keep the stamps from being folded. Heavier than cardstock and certainly thicker than the Dritz papers from Joann, I played around with fussy cutting, those fabrics from Maine geared toward that level of futziness, lol. Yet I preferred the scrappy nature of making Lucy Boston blocks because, well, I'm not that detail oriented. Better to cut fabrics, then bag them with papers so I could sew them.

Except that quickly I found other patterns more to my liking, Jodi's papers easier to use. The Lucy Boston quilt lost its appeal, ending up in a tote. Occasionally I made a block, all the while wondering why I was spending my time on a project that no longer stirred my heart. The enthusiasm was wholly absent, replaced by a sense of duty. Yet not that of me kicking and screaming my way through the stitching, more like reminding myself that small stiff papers, even those from Kentucky, weren't my thing, and yet, why not do just a wee bit of sewing on it instead of fully abandoning this project....

Anyways, last summer when I had Covid I stitched a few, but one was left aside, stacked on the totes under my sewing table. I stared at it occasionally, curious to its purpose. Then I picked up Kawandi, incorporating the Red Sky at Night blocks. I ADORED that process, then suddenly one day, fairly recently, I gazed at that unfinished Lucy Boston block and thought, "AHA! I'll gather all the prepped pieces, stitch them, then make that quilt ala Kawandi!"

And now with the last block sewn, and a backing and batting waiting on the guest bed and blocks arranged, maybe I will do just that.

You will, Past Me asks.

Uh, maybe, I reply.

A quilt of grace indeed, Future Me mutters under her breath.

Yeah, I agree.

You're crazy, Past Me chuckles. That's one big-assed Kawandi quilt you're talking about.

I, uh, realize that, I answer.

It'll be fine, Future Me says, glaring at Past Me.

You're both nuts, Past Me chortles, returning to making an EPP quilt, looks like the autumnal Cherish from Jodi Godfrey.

I gaze at her handiwork with fondness, in that I was making those blocks when my SIL and BIL visited in 2019. He thought they were beautiful, Stan was his name. Past Me isn't aware Stan only had a few years left to live, funny how the different parts of me know this, that, and the other.

Future Me clears her throat as Past Me still snickers. Past Me doesn't look up, but I gaze at Future Me, who wears a look of all she knows, some of which I am now aware, but the bulk is beyond me, for which I am truly grateful. Finish this post, she says softly, read a couple more chapters of Book Four, then get to that quilt.

Crazy women, Past Me mumbles.

How much grace will be required, I ask, giving Future Me my attention.

Enough, she smiles, walking away.

And I'll have it, I inquire.

She turns back, smirks, then nods. You always do, she adds, shoving her hands in her pockets as she leaves the conversation.

Kawandi coasters (and a little more book stuff)

As I prep Lucy Boston blocks for a BIG Kawandi project, I'm wrapping up loose ends on Far Away from Home: The Enran Chronicles Book Three. Now that the novel is available in major online retailers, I've made a link for it on my books2read page. That I've released three novels since December, I'm remembering more easily how to update that site, lol. In addition to Smashwords, you can find it on Apple Books, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Everand, and Angus & Robertson. And if I ever feel motivated to put it in print, I'll be sure to let you dear readers know!

In the meantime, I've made two Kawandi-inspired coasters, with another waiting patiently on the work table. They come together so quickly, and QUIETLY. No loud machine with a walking foot, no binding, just a bit of pressing the edges of the backing fabric inward, fitting in some batting, then adding fabric. The larger one below needs to be washed, and I'm curious how much it might shrink. The small one above decorates the coffee table where I stitch at night, and I'm extremely pleased with both!

What I've found in my brief Kawandi journey is how unnecessary bindings seem, although for traditional quilts they are indeed wholly necessary. Yet now I find all my table linens looking trapped within those bindings, all the work that went into them, especially on smaller pieces, feeling so, so.... So much like time wasted. Which sounds awful, it's not their fault! Which also sounds ridiculous, lol, like a quilt binding has feelings. Oh my goodness, this is not what I meant to get into today, but there it is. How many mug rugs or cup cozies have I made, placemats too, all with bindings. Kawandi has liberated me from that essential traditional quilting step, and I am EVER SO GRATEFUL!

Often I link quilt making and writing, but there is no direct comparison I've yet discovered between Kawandi and my style of fiction. Not even pantsing a draft is like Kawandi. It would be like writing the last book first, and writing it from end to beginning. And while I'm all for new methods of crafting, that's excessive. Although.... I still don't know what book of The Enran Chronicles I want to write next, so maybe it's not so wild. Could I actually write the last book next, maybe not from the end to the start, but....

Who knows? Eleven years into my quilting journey, I've landed on a way that's been around for hundreds of years yet is very new to me and has grabbed me so tightly, albeit lovingly, that I can't imagine sitting at my machine making a patchwork quilt top, or placemat, or coaster. I don't want to deal with binding strips, or figuring out the back as though it's an afterthought. Kawandi is like a gentle, necessary breeze drying icky sweat from my body, cooling my mood and easing my burdens.

And isn't that what life is about? I think so, insert smiley face here!

Far Away from Home

I am not a hard-core sci/fi author. I like to dabble in science fiction certainly, yet the notion of that sort of world-building has always felt beyond me. In Far Away from Home: The Enran Chronicles Book Three, set mostly within an outpost upon a distant planet, I developed a society that despite being written in 2023 feels much like America today, an alternate universe gone horribly awry.

That somber premise aside, Far Away from Home is a rollicking adventure, as Noth, a human from present-day Earth, finds himself in the twenty-ninth century millions of miles from where he previously dwelled. Yet Humans reside on Mordan Station on the planet of Enran, and he gains the acquaintance of one in particular. Sooz is a physician; she's also surreptitiously engineering the regeneration of Chelak, a Tyrah citizen who Sooz hopes to keep hidden from the Tyrah authorities, eager to enslave those able of childbearing. Many of Noth's memories from home have been purged from his consciousness, yet he clearly recalls the hypocrisy suffered by women, and longs to liberate Chelak from Enran before the Tyrah abduct her. He also wishes to free Sooz from her self-imposed isolation, and is willing to sacrifice going home to do so.

In his corner is the ageless Donsaret named Squee as well as Dardram, an irritable Human. Opposing them is the duplicitous Chief Ryder Renavier, who at times appears Human, but possesses a hybrid lineage allowing Renavier to change form. As Noth absorbs the rules of his new locale, he also realizes his purpose might be occurring far more quickly than he'd assumed. That accelerated timeline hastens his and Sooz's plan to get Chelak off the planet, yet the Tyrah have other ideas....

Plenty of humor exists as do poignant moments as Noth uncovers Sooz's background. Often Noth feels uncertain of whom to trust; conspiracies and corruption are rampant. Yet Noth is bolstered by The Other, a vital yet odd entity that has taken over his ship, their vines also fond of Sooz. One of them has to stay behind, she tells Noth, as The Other won't permit both to leave. Who stays, who goes, and who exactly can Noth rely upon as a rampage looms, endangering not only Chelak, but the entire populace of Enran.

Hey, hey, hey.... Now that's a wing-ding for you! I knew great trepidation in crafting this novel, mainly in stepping out of my melodramatic Earthen comfort zone. Yet the characters welcomed me warmly, and I am often pondering their fates, as this series has plenty left to explore. Switching between spoken dialogue and internal conversations hearkens back to A Love Story and Life Stories, but Far Away from Home is singular in its danger and intrigue. And copious aliens, lol. But underneath all those differing exteriors beat many hearts wishing for joy and dignity, staples of my prose. Also a layer of faith that Noth embraces and Sooz shuns. And certainly love, which provides the necessary impetus for change. And while not to get ahead of myself, change hovers in Book Four, of which the first chapter is provided at the conclusion. That's planned for an August release, just to let you know.

For now, if science fiction mixed with humor and pathos is your bag, Far Away from Home is available on Smashwords for FREE, as all my novels are priced. Below is the first chapter; please enjoy this exuberant tale, and thanks for reading an indie author!

 

 

 

Chapter 1

 

 

 

Standingat the observation window, Sooz frowned at the odd ship landing on the exteriorpad. It wasn’t a Tyrah vessel, but didn’t look at all familiar. Dardram mightknow its origin, but his mood remained poor and she would pester someone elsefor information if it became necessary.

Pattingher pants’ left pocket, she sighed, then retrieved her pad, scanning messages.Tapping the screen, she studied her patients’ vitals, then closed her eyes,clucking at one in particular. Again she glanced at the large window, then putthe device in her pocket. A jetway emerged through drifting clouds, then wasattached to the peculiar ship, and Sooz sighed inwardly, cracking her knuckles.“As long as you stay away from me, I don’t care who you are.”

Othersnow gathered near her, several species chattering in various languages. Sooztried to ignore their gossip, yet no one else knew what kind of vessel hadlanded. Identities were bandied about, though none spoke of the Tyrah. Finallyan Ahlem tapped Sooz’s shoulder. “Who do you think it is?”

Soozshrugged, pulling back her long dark hair. Curls sprung tightly and she shookout her tresses, wishing for a ponytail. Instead she took a long thin stickfrom her other pocket, twirling her hair atop her head, then maneuvering thestick through the bun. Her curls seemed affixed, and she twitched slightly,then sighed. “Whoever it is, they better have a good reason for being here.”

“Theywouldn’t have been allowed to land otherwise,” a tall being to Sooz’s righthuffed.

“That’sfairly obvious.” Sooz didn’t face the Gonquil, but she shrugged again, thensighed, wishing she hadn’t left the infirmary. If she had stayed put, all ofthis would have been a footnote to her shift. Now she felt as drawn as the restto this spectacle, the jetway still in place against the side of the vessel.How many were departing, what did they want, Sooz wondered, shoving her handsin her pockets. She gripped her pad, wishing for a vibration that would tearher from this spot, but no one urgently needed her, and she grunted softly asvoices in a variety of cadences discussed possibilities.

Allthose sounds were filtered into her brain as discernable speech despite thediffering manners of communication. The only species she couldn’t fullyunderstand was foreign to all on Enran, although at times Sooz was able tocomprehend their…. It wasn’t actual language or the multix would havetranslated it. Instead The Other transmitted a melody that most assumed was howthat species conversed with itself, though some considered its songs only asmusic. Briefly closing her eyes, Sooz permitted a snippet of melody tooverwhelm the cacophony now filling the observation area. Then she grunted,stalking away from the group, heading back to her workstation.

Yeta newcomer’s arrival was all anyone could discuss. By the time Sooz reached theinfirmary she had inadvertently learned one individual had been processed,although that person’s identity wasn’t yet for perusal. Gazing at her patients,Sooz wondered if another species would join this motley crew, most of them herefor basic care. She didn’t ponder the iso unit, then sat at her console,glancing at the display. The same messages she had ignored on her pad filledthe screen and she swiped away those unimportant. Quickly she read ones tomatter, then paused at a missive from Dardram. Sent moments previously, hewanted to know if she was aware another Human was joining their collective.Sooz trembled inwardly, then sighed aloud. She was grateful Dardram’s attentionhad been piqued, but why had a Human made contact here?

Movingfrom the console, Sooz gazed at the clear partition along the wall, herreflection staring back at her. Her hair was a jumble, but stable upon herhead. Her dark eyes were large, rings barely discernable under them. Her nosewas wide, her mouth ample, her cheekbones prominent. She didn’t like how herlower jaw protruded, but that was the only feature displeasing. Her skin wasn’tthe same hue as Dardram’s; his was far more pale, but they were the only Humanscurrently assigned to Enran, and often she found his company preferable toothers, though lately he’d been a miserable sod and she avoided him wheneverpossible. When in a sociable mood, Sooz gravitated to the Ahlems. Sheappreciated their wisdom and sense of humor, as well as their need forsolitude. Dardram had scant wit and even less patience and she vaguely hopedwhoever had landed was here to replace him.

Inwardlyshe berated herself for such insensitivity. Yet she was tired of his continual irritability,he should have known better. She winced, then glanced at a door to a backcubicle. One patient required that privacy, the rest now calling for her. Soozfirst checked those seriously ill, then she approached Hosta, an Ahlem nearingits end of life. “What do you need,” Sooz said softly, grasping Hosta’s hand.

“Whathas happened?” Hosta squeaked.

“Nothing,”Sooz smiled. “Can I get you anything?”

“Youare a terrible liar,” Hosta sighed. “One of my people is nearby. Are they herefor me?”

“I’llcheck.” Sooz released Hosta’s hand, then returned to the console. No newadmittances waited on the screen, though Sooz expected the newcomer to make itsway here eventually. She returned to Hosta, then retrieved a nearby stool,seating herself beside this patient. “No one’s slated to join us,” Soozcrooned. “Perhaps you’re sensing retrieval.”

“Youaren’t getting rid of me yet,” the Ahlem snickered weakly.

Soozchuckled, again grasping Hosta’s hand. “Well good. You’re one of my favorites.”

“Butnot the favorite,” Hosta grinned.

“That’sa long time in coming.” Sooz smirked.

“Perhaps,or not.” Hosta sighed, then squinted. “Regardless, I feel my people near. If itis my time, let me go with ease.”

Soozblinked away tears. “Maybe.”

“Andif another takes my place, may they be as well cared for as what you haveproffered me.”

“Stoptalking like this,” Sooz whispered sharply.

Hostasqueezed Sooz’s fingers, then clucked. “How did you become a physician in thefirst place? Never mind, I don’t mean to pick at you. Check your console, bynow someone must have information.”

Soozwiped away stray tears, then stood, but she didn’t release Hosta’s hand. TheAhlem’s grip felt like a vice, yet not painful, although Sooz didn’t expectHosta to survive much longer. Hosta released Sooz, but a physician didn’timmediately step away, and only when another patient called for care did Soozleave Hosta’s bedside.

 

Anhour later the newcomer was escorted to the infirmary. Sooz nodded at theGonquil who grimaced while making introductions: the being was indeed a Human,but not like any Sooz had previously encountered. “It claims it’s from Earth,”the Gonquil sneered. “Let us know what you discover.”

Soozshrugged at the Gonquil, then quickly assessed her new patient; the being wasprobably male, was definitely young. She led the Human to a nearby gurney, thengestured for the being to sit. It frowned, then spoke, but the dialect wasn’ttranslated. Sooz tapped the side of her head. “Don’t tell me you don’t have amultix,” she huffed.

Againthe being conversed, but still Sooz couldn’t comprehend its words. It soundedangry, also disappointed. Then it sat on the gurney, gripping the bed withforce.

Retrievingher pad, she brought up this being’s file; it had arrived with a documentasserting it was a Human from the past, allegedly from Earth. It had traveledthrough the rift in a ship previously belonging to Enran from eons ago, butalready that vessel’s modifications had been noted. Sooz ignored those details,focusing on one key point, that no multix had been discovered in initial scans.

Sheput the pad on a table next to the gurney, making mental notes that would be relayedinto the database. Her multix permitted that ability and as the being againspoke, she hoped her implant could figure out what it was trying to convey.

Shesighed, the language still indecipherable. Softly she patted the being’s leg,then made eye contact. “My name is Sooz,” she said clearly, pointing atherself. “I can’t yet understand you, hopefully soon. For now I’m going to scanyou for any ailments.” She collected a device from the table, waving it firstat herself, then showing the being the results. It frowned, then shrugged,still grasping the gurney.

Soozfought the urge to roll her eyes, placing the device near the being’s head. Nomultix was located, nor was there any such implant in the being’s upper body.She scanned its trunk, the results making her inwardly tremble. The readingswere indeed of a Human, but not like any she had previously treated. Herphysiology was similar, Dardram’s too, but even they weren’t like this being.

“Youmust be from Earth,” she muttered, digesting the results, then mentallydirecting them into the mainframe. Then she stared at the being. “I’m Sooz,”she repeated. “Sooz,” she then said slowly, tapping at her chest.

“Sooz,”the being said.

“Sooz,”she murmured as a chill spread along her back. The being was male, speaking ina youthful tone. She tapped on her pad, finding in this man’s file his name.“Noth?” she said slowly. “Is your name Noth?”

“Noth,”he answered quickly, pointing to himself. “Noth.”

“Noth,”she muttered, rereading his file. Then she met his eyes, which were gray,stirring a memory. She ignored that flashback, then grasped his hand whichstill clutched the gurney. His fingers were cold, his skin relatively soft. Hewasn’t from anywhere near, yet he seemed…. Sooz released him, then patted hisshoulder. “Speak to me,” she said, making with her hand a talking gesture. “Theonly way we’re gonna communicate is by you talking. Whatever dialect you’reusing, it’s not in our databanks.”

Hebegan to speak, still nothing she could understand, nor did anyone in theinfirmary attempt to translate. But those able to pay attention did so,discussing if it was indeed possible that a Human had breached the rift, andhow had it gained such capable transport?

Justas Sooz thought she might grasp his dialogue, two Gonquils entered theinfirmary. “We need access to it,” one said.

“I’mnot done with my examination,” Sooz said stiffly.

“Enoughinformation has been retrieved,” the other Gonquil announced, coming towardNoth from behind.

Nothleaped off the gurney, backing away from the Gonquils.

Soozstepped between the young man and the Gonquils. “His language can’t yet bedetermined. Until then, I’m in charge of his welfare.”

“Accordingto what treaty?” the first Gonquil asked.

“I’mHuman, so is he,” Sooz grunted.

“Suchdistinctions are irrelevant,” the second Gonquil snorted.

“Notsince Melor was abducted,” Sooz said flatly.

TheGonquils stared first at Sooz, then at Noth, then muttered under their breaths.The first one cleared its throat, then glared at Sooz. “We will be back for it.Do not attempt to allow its departure.”

“Hecame to us,” Sooz said. “But until we can understand him, nobody’s taking himfrom my authority.”

TheGonquils grumbled, then departed. Sooz turned to face Noth, fright apparent inhis face. She hesitated from touching him, then patted his shoulder. “Thesooner I can understand you, the better for all of us.”

“Sooz,”he sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Sooz,”she repeated. “It’s a start.”

 

Seatedin a corner of what must be a medical bay, Noth ate tasteless food, wishing tobe back in Jeannie and Caroline’s care. They had insisted he land here alone,asserting while his ship contained various improvements from the future, thatwas the only aspect of their connection he could share with authorities, mostof which were tall aliens with minimalistic facial features and extremelyunpleasant voices. Only Sooz looked like a human, the rest of the medical bayfilled with a variety of species that Noth inspected only to acquaint himselfwith this…. He was in what Jeannie had claimed was the twenty-ninth century, ina universe so far from what he considered as home it was no wonder the food wasbland and that he was considered a fugitive, but Sooz provided him a glimpse ofthe familiar. Her language wasn’t anything close to what he recalled from home,although it wasn’t the guttural cluck of the tall aliens. Sooz wanted him totalk, probably to prompt the multix she employed like another limb.

Hehad yet to see her make any kind of physical notes about her patients, thoughoccasionally she sat at a console, reading the screen. Noth recognized thewritten dialects scattered about the medical bay and while he was grateful fora minimal level of comprehension, if English wasn’t in the database, it wouldtake time for him to accomplish anything meaningful.

Carolinehad implied that for now, his goal was to become acquainted with this planet,that Dorvuun wasn’t an issue at this moment in time. Noth had balked at beingmade to land here, what was the point he had argued. Yet the women had beenfirm, even Jeannie, with whom he had grown close after the memory sweep. Overreplicated bowls of chicken soup they had shared stories about his mother, butnow Noth put Dana from his mind, although in how Sooz stared at him, hewondered if somehow the women were related. He cleared his throat, thenapproached where Sooz sat at her console. He could vaguely decipher themessages, some about himself, the rest of a personal nature. Then he tapped onthe console, making a typing gesture.

Shestudied his movements, then smiled. She said something he couldn’t understand,but her tone was upbeat as she went to her feet, rummaging through a drawer tothe right of the console. Then she squatted, searching anxiously for what mustbe something akin to a pad. Noth tried to ignore messages still on the display,but someone was asking about him; how Human did Noth appear, what was his trueagenda? He tried inputting information on the console, but was locked out as hehad been in the office where he was initially processed. The officials hadn’tprovided him with a pad there, probably to deny him access to their databanks,which Noth assumed was a security protocol. How the hell are we gonnacommunicate, he wondered. Then he rolled his eyes as Sooz stood, her shouldersslumped, nothing in her hands.

Shegrumbled, plopping into her seat, then tapping on the console. She shrugged andNoth smiled, grateful for a familiar gesture. Sooz gazed at him, a small grinon her face. “Thanks for trying,” he said.

Hertone in reply was apologetic and he chuckled, then cracked his knuckles. As hestarted to walk away, Sooz grasped his shoulder. She cracked her knuckles, thenshook out her hands.

Nothagain cracked his knuckles, meeting her eyes. She nodded, then smiled, thenwaved him off. He sighed, heading back to the corner, but an alien gestured forhim. The being was small, fragile in appearance, and Noth approached slowly.Then it smiled, or what to him looked like a grin. “Do you know who I am?” heasked.

Thebeing’s mood didn’t change, nor did it speak. Then it reached out in thedirection of Noth’s right hand. Noth gently grasped the alien’s digits, feelinga spark of recognition tingle through his fingers.

Thebeing whispered in a cadence Noth had heard Caroline and Jeannie occasionalmurmur. “Are you an Ahlem,” Noth asked.

Hushedconversations stopped as Sooz stood from her chair, joining Noth and the alien.Sooz spoke to the being, then softly grasped their hands, still clutchedtogether. Noth nodded, assuming this being’s life was ending. “I’m sorry,” hemuttered, feeling slightly flustered. “I’m sorry I don’t understand.”

“Sor-ry,”Sooz whispered.

Hestared at her. “You know what I’m saying?”

Tearsfell down her face. “Sorry,” she muttered.

Nothshrugged, then gazed at the alien. No longer was it alive, but that small grinremained in place. Sooz caressed the alien’s cheek, then took a deep breath.She recited something Noth couldn’t comprehend, but it sounded like a prayer.Some spoke with her, their differing cadences and dialects blending like aheavenly harmony. Then Noth gasped as suddenly the deceased disappeared.

“Whatthe hell?” Noth said. “Where’d it go?”

Soozreleased his hand, then moved from the gurney. She closed her eyes, but tappedher foot in a rhythmic pattern. Noth wondered if she was praying or makingmental notes, or allowing herself a moment to grieve. He returned to his seatin the corner, pushed aside the table with his meal, then observed all thosegathered. Some seemed to weep, others spoke softly. A few rolled to theirsides. Sooz opened her eyes, then stared at Noth. He nodded, then spoke. “Again,I’m really sorry.”

“Real-lysorry,” she said slowly.

“Really,”he sighed.

“Real-ly,”she repeated.

Heshrugged. “That word isn’t gonna do us much good.”

She rambled incoherently, then threw up her hands. Noth had no idea whatshe meant and he shrugged, then cracked his knuckles. Sooz had been frowning,but she flashed a smile, cracked her knuckles, then hastily walked to what Nothassumed was her office. But instead of sitting at her console, she steppedtoward the back wall, tapping on a small display. Security protocols werefollowed, then a door slid open and she met his eyes. Then she slipped into thedarkness, the door quickly closing behind her.

A quilt of grace

I'm going to publish a novel tonight, I think. Book Three of The Enran Chronicles is formatted, cover made, blurbs written.... All I need to do is upload it all onto Smashwords, then by morning it will be featured on their home page, lol. Since merging with Draft2 Digital, I have found it takes HOURS for a novel to appear in the Smashwords store. Might as well make time work for me overnight, then find a pleasant surprise tomorrow when I wake.

In the meantime, I have been moved to stitch Lucy Boston blocks, of which I have over twenty-five done. That project was one of my first EPP thrills, but the honeycombs are small (one inch per side), and the papers from Paper Pieces are somewhat stiff. I had tucked away all the finished blocks, but pulled them out today, trying to size up a Kawandi-version and I think it will work. This will definitely be a quilt of grace, because only by God's grace will I get it sorted, LOL! I have four blocks left to make for a total of thirty, and hopefully I'll start a new Kawandi project later this week or early next week.

What exactly is a quilt of grace, you might wonder. It's something I didn't think I needed to make, and only by accepting such grace will it emerge. I especially felt that last night stitching the block above; the dark blue fabric was stiff, and the honeycombs nestled against it were even MORE STIFF, in part that the selvedges of the fabric were included. Made for a LOT of tough fabric to work a needle through, and I used a stout needle instead of my slender EPP needles. Yes I poked my finger, and yes I have bandaids on the coffee table, usually employed as thimbles. Sometimes they are used for their intended purpose.

What I knew during that somewhat difficult stitching was a massive sense of peace, ease, meaning. Even if the sewing was tricky, it was doable, slowly and carefully. I thought about the dark pink fabric from a collection I used in a quilt for my eldest daughter. I considered the navy center honeycombs, that print one I bought years ago at Joann. The other outer print is also from Joann, while the thick sepia toned fabric was from a collection I ordered right after Covid hit. All the Lucy Boston blocks contain similar memories; I cut those fabrics over five years ago, and I am eager to finally give those blocks a quilty home.

We had a heap of rain today, more coming tomorrow and later this week, which is perfect sewing weather. I don't have a book to prep for immediate release, or I won't after tonight, so I can delve deeply into a new Kawandi joy, or work on EPP hearts, or maybe dabble with Alexandria. All these outlets are made possible by grace, varying levels of grace required. Yet grace permeates, because without that beautiful essence, the handiworks lack purpose, sparkle. They lack....grace.

And right now, we need as much grace as we can get.

Thanks be to God, and to Past Me for listening and stitching

I'm a Christian. I don't talk much about my faith directly, though I allude to it. Yet it's the core of my being, and maybe it might be perceived as weak faith from my discretion, but in following the edict of my soul, I don't blare it on this blog.

Today, I'm going to share first what I finished last night, some EPP/Kawandi sewing that I'll use in the kitchen by the kettle. Granite countertops that we didn't install are a nightmare with nice teacups, so I keep the counter covered and my mugs protected with placemat-sized linens. The English paper piecing on this one is some of the first EPP I crafted going on seven years ago. For two years I've been meaning to turn it into something, and a couple of days ago I did just that, finding that once the backing for a Kawandi project is made, that's how big whatever is emerging is going to be. This will be fine for a few cups, keeping nice dishes chip-free and giving me something to hand-sew besides the EPP projects piling on my coffee table.

I do love me some Kawandi-inspired sewing, what a blessing to have found that method of quilting!

Speaking of blessings.... Last night I pulled out my bible, leafing through it for excess bookmarks to use in another bible that screams for page markers. I located a couple of small sheets in the book of Ephesians, notes made in my handwriting from probably over twenty years ago. I've been graced to claim Jesus as my saviour for fifty-three years, but lately I've felt in need of renewal. All the crap in Washington D.C. has been a strain, as you might imagine. Yet in reading over those notes made at some earlier point in my life, I was shaken thoroughly at how clearly I had previously viewed my faith, my life, this gift of grace that boils down the essence of my existence to Love. Long before I began writing books or sewing quilts, I was a woman in her thirties, doing some cross-stitching, raising young teens, homeschooling them in the United Kingdom. Never would I have considered all that might occur in 2025, but firmly ensconced in that year, I am grateful to peek back to the past, grasping a Truth unsullied by all that seems atrocious today.

Anyway, here's what I wrote concerning Ephesians 1:3 - Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ.

This says it all - in Jesus we have everything we need. There is nothing beyond Christ; nothing past Him, and nothing less than Him. For true and real life we need only Jesus, all Jesus, as life is Jesus. This world and all its trappings, decorations, sorrows and joys, is nothing without Jesus - nothing without the love that comes from His cross. It is only through the cross, His cross, that we have life.

In all situations, circumstances, and happenings, we have Jesus. There is not one time that we do not - not one moment where He is absent, not one instance where He abandons us. He is always present, ever with us, and never away from us. We are never alone - every minute, every second He is around us, loving, caring, forgiving, providing and protecting. That is an absolute, and will never change.

What must be altered is out view of our lives - our lives as ours, our lives as a part of this world, our lives outside of Christ, for there is no life outside of Jesus. As John the Baptist said, "He must become greater; I must become less." (John 3:30) We must adopt that view, to fully partake of the goodness and purpose God calls us to. We must humble ourselves to the position of slaves, to best serve our Lord and Saviour Jesus, and to be a true servant to our brothers and sisters in this world. Unless we completely empty ourselves of ourselves, and be completely at God's disposal, we cannot know true peace, for we will always be driven by worldly passions and desires, and the sinful human emotions that are the triggers and drivers of those desires. While we are here on this earth, we will never be completely free from the longings of what we see and want, but we can, every day, pray for the grace to die to self, to carry our own crosses, and come closer to Jesus. Each day we must work toward the prize of heaven, with much joy and eager anticipation; that to see the face of our loving Father will be our ultimate pleasure, and to be wrapped in the wide-open arms of Christ shall be our biggest comfort. By the power and grace of God within us, the workings and strength of the Holy Spirit, we shall be so graced, and will come to God with hearts made right and pure.

Just a little of my headspace, and that of Past Me, during this Lenten season.

Kawandi method quilt finish

I took a shot in the sunshine, but the colours are blown out. Maybe I'll post it below...

However this quilt is labeled, let's call it Made With Love. Yes, it's also Red Sky at Night. It's Kawandi-inspired comfort, and oh my goodness it's free of pins and COMPLETED!

Free of pins, what? Yes, loads of straight pins kept rows (and chunks) mostly where I wanted them, which led to my fingers being pricked more often than I count. Minimal bleeding, lol, and none on the quilt so go me!?! I'm looking forward to making another, probably with Batting Creep Scraps (or whatever I called it in a past entry) affixed, but they will be a neutral shade so I won't feel compelled to include them in the design!

Stitching the center block this morning.

Anyway.... Stitching this has been a pleasure, straight pins notwithstanding. I loved the casual, improv nature. I adored starting with the back, no binding required. I enjoyed the haphazard process, and if I want to talk RSAN, I'm thrilled to have included the only machine-sewn traditional block I fashioned as well as nearly all the smaller blocks, wanting to harness that pattern into something of my own making. It's on the narrow side, currently in the wash, no idea how the shrinkage will commence. Or how structurally it will cope, lol.

That's my only concern, that the integrity will be lacking, but I sewed that quilt STOUTLY. Corners are NAILED, relatively speaking. It feels strange to be done; for a hand-stitched project I sped through it, so loving the method. I have some ideas for the next, but need to reflect upon this new manner of making quilts. Or maybe tomorrow I'll put together a backing for the next one.

PINS! Oh my goodness, that poor bird, or poor me including that bird, HAHAH!

I'm grateful to have incorporated Red Sky at Night into this, because while I wanted to make that quilt as per the pattern, machine stitching is truly not in my current wheelhouse. And honestly, all that futzy sewing, trimming of blocks, etc; meh! Not that this quilt wasn't a bit fiddly, all those scraps revealed, the pre-sewn blocks arranged and so forth, not to mention all the FREAKIN' PINS! Yet the pins allowed me to merely hand-quilt, well, last night I had to constantly push the pins back into place, that was annoying. Otherwise, I savored the ease of weaving a threaded needle in and out of gorgeous, vivid scraps, building a wildly bright quilt that will be employed on the sofa as soon as I get it out of the dryer. Such a wonder to take pieces of cloth, needles, some thread, batting too, then allow the creative process to work its marvelous magic. Voila; here's a pretty quilt for....

Looking as though it's already come out of the wash. Grateful for the sunshine AND a quilt finish!

This one is for me, unless someone comes over and gushes to the point where I smile, then lovingly bestow upon them Red Sky at Night. For now it's mine, until some new shiny emerges. LOL!

Quilt and novel excerpts

Between the row of low volume scraps and the center block will be more brightly hued prints. I am SO HAPPY with how this is progressing!

The relative end of my Kawandi Red Sky at Night quilt is looming, epp! The further inward I go, the less stitching remains, which isn't quite akin to manuscript revisions, but the sense of completion is kind of similar. If nothing else, by the time I publish Far Away From Home: The Enran Chronicles Book Three, my version of RSAN will be DONE.

While I'm not sure what story or Kawandi-inspired quilt will next be inaugurated, I am eager for both to commence. Probably the quilt will emerge first, but one never knows. Assuming anything at this point is a dubious undertaking.

Not sure how I'll work around the bird, but I don't want it to get lost in the shuffle.

Yet I can't help but ponder a different colour scheme, a new installment of a book series. I have more ideas for the fiction, but I've been pondering it longer than Kawandi, lol. Give me another year and how might the quilt list be increased!

What I have realized is if this quilt washes well and maintains its integrity, machine sewing a quilt will be far down on my list of go-to activities. I have ADORED making a quilt in this manner, embracing it with deep fondness for many reasons: 1) Fashioning the back first instead of last. 2) No binding strip required! 3) All those rows of close-set stitches proffer the super-crinkly look I never get with hand-quilting. 4) It's a new shiny, you know.

Upper right corner; I'm thrilled for how the hourglass blocks denote the perimeter.

Does #4 mean that after time I'll tire of making quilts this way? I HOPE NOT! I hope instead I'm inspired to make placemats, mug rugs, or whatever else is a quilty-creation. I love being untethered from my sewing machine, although this does eat into the EPP time. So far these hand-sewing treats have lived in harmony, so I'll just keep going as I've been, trading off here and there so every quilt receives my attention.

If only it was that easy with writing a book....

However in drawing near to publishing another story, I free up space for.... Well, for another book's release next month, LOL. Book Two of The Hawk is calling my name, thank goodness that series is WRITTEN, requiring only that I deal with book covers, blurbs, etc. I honestly didn't consider how trying to release two different series at once would crowd the crafting of new fiction. DOH! But I'll figure out something, because Kawandi quilting hit me like a soft feather pillow up my head, gentle and kind and like a brick but not bruising. It's so soothing, so JOYFUL. And right now I need JOY by the truckload.

Upper left corner; one block is upside down (hearts). That frees me up to not worry about mistakes that occur in what's left to design, lol.

Below is an excerpt from Far Away From Home, far more action/adventure prose than I usually craft. This novel is set in the twenty-ninth century in a cosmos indeed far from Earth, yet Humans dwell there. It was a distinct stretch, but I'm happy with it, and very excited to share it in full in a little over a week. Enjoy a smattering of where I've been lately, and have a marvelous and peaceful weekend!

From Chapter 10 of Far Away From Home: The Enran Chronicles Book Three

 

Ahuge crowd had gathered where Squee, Olmos, and Starn still sat in the diningcommons. Most of those hovering were Gonquils, a few Donsarets among them. AnAhlem that Noth recognized from the tailor’s shop stood on the table, wavingaway what wasn’t merely a throng of onlookers. Weapons were displayed, butSquee laughed as though nothing was amiss.

“Squee,”Sooz hollered. “Time’s wasting!”

Nothcleared his throat, then Sooz muttered, “Go to your quarters now, capisce?”

“What,no way. Hey, how’d you know that word?”

“Imean it Noth. Get lost.”

“Fuckthat!” Shaking off her grip, he ran toward the now bustling mob. Squee joinedthe tailor on the table, gesturing for Noth to leave. “No,” Noth shouted.“Fucking administrators won’t do jack, so let’s get it on!”

“Shit!”Sooz yelled loudly enough for Noth to hear her. Yet he continued toward thosenow turning his way. Rifles of various styles were pointed at him, otherweapons brandished.

Hesmiled, holding out his hands, then raising his arms over his head. “You thinkI’m afraid of you? One of you fucking lowlifes poisoned a friend of mine, thenseveral of you untaz beat the shit outta him. Now I’m here, so just kill metoo, then that fucking chicken-shit chief will either round allʽa you up or Iwon’t have to deal with your sorry asses another minute longer.”

Nothshoved fists into his sides, glaring at every person. Several walked away, butenough remained that Noth couldn’t see Starn or Olmos. Squee smirked at him, yet its eye twitched. Noth nodded, then smiled. “Go ahead and kill me, I fuckingdare one of you to….”

Theblast emanated from a tall Gonquil directly behind Squee, making the Donsaretflinch and Sooz scream. All Noth felt was someone having bumped into him. He glancedat his unharmed right shoulder, which had taken the brunt of the pressure, thenlaughed wickedly, stepping forward as others now scattered from the commons.The Gonquil fired again, then was attacked by Squee, who jumped from the table,landing right onto the would-be assassin. Starn and Olmos grappled with threeother Gonquils as a security force finally joined the melee. None of thosefighting approached Noth, although Sooz now stood beside him, grasping hisshoulders from behind. “You should be dead,” she murmured.

“Maybe,”Noth muttered, feeling nothing but a cold wave of hatred that Sooz’s touchdidn’t alleviate.

“Whyaren’t you dead?” she whispered.

“Tyrahweapons,” he said flatly.

“What?”Sooz turned Noth toward her. “What are you saying?”

“It’snot really a Gonquil.” Noth gestured to the being now on its feet, guards atits sides.

Soozgasped, then led Noth to where Olmos and Starn were hoisting Squee from thefloor. Three other Gonquils were being slapped with what to Noth looked likehandcuffs. The one who had fired at him screamed manically, the sound remindingNoth of when one so deranged was apprehended. Dorvuun, he considered, yet thisTyrah hybrid wasn’t as sophisticated as the one Jeannie and Caroline feared.

Theshrieking creature contorted wildly. Flinging a limb outward, it knocked away oneguard, then grabbed a nearby rifle, shooting another. It spoke in a languageNoth didn’t recognize, but the tenor was vile, then threatening. With a wicked smile, it raised theweapon, pointing it directly at Squee.

“NO!”Noth raced toward the creature, knocking it down, then throttling it. Nothscreamed at the being, yet it no longer resisted. Then Noth inhaled sharply,dropping the body from his hands. He stared at the figure, its tiny eyes,miniscule nose, and O-shaped mouth distinctively Tyrah. Noth trembled, scootingaway from who he had just killed. “Jesus Christ,” he murmured, pulling his legsto his chest, pressing his face against his knees.

Soozsquatted beside him, stroking his shoulders as guards inspected the body.Squee, Olmos, and Starn knelt between Noth and the corpse. “I owe you one,”Squee said softly.

“Ryderowes us all,” Olmos smirked.

“Whatwas that thing?” Sooz asked.

“It’sdead now,” Starn grunted.

“It’sa Tyrah….”

“Getoff the floor, all of you,” Renavier ordered, interrupting Noth. “I’m going toquestion you here so no one can bitch. Take those three to the brig,” Renaviershouted to the guards. “Contact the Gonquil home world and tell them if theydon’t collect them soon, I’ll eject them onto the landing pad.”

“Ithink The Other will take care of them if need be,” Squee muttered, brushing awaydebris.

“Thelack of air will be enough of a threat,” Ryder said, offering a hand to Noth.

Nothglared at the chief, instead grasping Sooz’s outstretched hand. He also brusheddust from his trousers, then closed his eyes, trying to recall exactly how hehad…. “I killed him, so what happens to me now?”

“Itwasn’t a him,” Squee interjected.“Most certainly an it.”

“Whateverit was, it was trying to harm Squee, and you prevented that,” Renavier said. “Nocharges will be filed, let me assure you of that.”

“Ohthat’s rich,” Sooz barked. “You can’t assure anyone here of anything resemblingsafety with whatever that thing is or was running around. Was that whatkidnapped Melor or….”

“Thishas nothing to do with Melor,” Renavier said, looking straight at Noth.

Nothglared at the chief, then studied its eyes; now they were purple and beady, butlarger than the Tyrah’s eyes. “If you’re not charging me with anything, what aboutinvestigating why that thing killed Andah?”

Renaviersighed. “I’ll tell you right now why. Andah knew what that thing was. Andah wasworking for me. There’s been an infiltration on this station. Now whatever isleft of that subversion knows everyone here and elsewhere is mindful. It won’tbe an issue much longer.”

“Ohyeah?” Noth sneered. “How many others are gonna die because you’re too lame toget things under control?”

“Don’tlecture me kid,” Renavier growled. “Now get your ass outta here before I do chargeyou with something.”

Olmosand Squee flanked Noth. “He makes a very good point,” Squee said. “Are things undercontrol?”

“Ofcourse they are.” Renavier huffed, then approached Starn. “You can tell themnow, and anyone else interested.”

“Thankyou,” Starn said.

“Youknew about this?” Squee clucked.

Starnnodded.

Soozgrasped Noth’s hand. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’mfine. I need a masca though.”

“Mascais the last thing you need,” Sooz said.

“Agreed.”Squee patted Noth’s shoulder. “A margarita and nachos instead, in the alcove.Come Noth, we all will imbibe. Sooz, please join us.”

Soozshook her head, then approached the chief. She thrust a finger into its chest,then slapped its face. Then she slowly walked in the direction of theinfirmary, swearing in English under her breath.

Peace in this slice of time

Nine of twenty rows of my Mr. Carter quilt stitched together. Another six rows were laid out last night, waiting in bags to be sewn, then added.

Today begins Lent. I've been reading The Cost of Discipleship by Dietrich Bonhoeffer, started last night How We Learn to Be Brave by Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde, then cracked open this morning Letters & Papers From Prison, also by Bonhoeffer. I keep two bookmarks in Letters & Papers, as plentiful notes for each chapter demand quick access. Right now I'm using the dust jacket as my bookmark in How We Learn; perhaps I'll find a better solution, then that marker will forever dwell within that book as it happens for all my favourite tomes.

Yesterday was difficult; the trade wars with Canada, Mexico, and China are hard to digest, yet those aren't the only wrenches thrown by the president. Disabling as much governmental infrastructure as is possible compounds the chaos, as well as my lamentations. By evening's end, despite enjoyable stitching, I was low.

Sleeping was also difficult; I stirred with leg cramps, took over the counter medications, then drifted off, but not for as long as I could have used, waking at three a.m. I remained in bed for half an hour, got up, then sat at this very computer, not finding/doing anything conducive to rest. Finally I returned to bed, sleeping until a quarter after six! That for me is a lie-in, lol, and I was grateful for the daylight emerging like a welcome friend.

Letters & Papers From Prison also lifted my heart; perhaps that sounds weird, but what I took from just the introductory essay, entitled "After Ten Years", written in 1943, made me realize that while I wish anything else was true, my nation's decline into fascism isn't new on this planet. Why did I, and countless millions of others, believe America was above such brutal autocracy? We're certainly NOT, yet I hope for a peaceful outcome. I have no idea how/what that result will be, or if. Yet, I maintain hope.

Hope during Lent is one element of the journey. Another is rekindling the relationship with Christ. Focusing not on self, but on a spirit of Love, Compassion, Grace, Forgiveness.... These are what I draw upon when my heart is heavy. Peace one sliver at a time.

Despite yesterday and how badly I slept, today has been better. Brighter. Far more personable than perhaps this section of time could/should be. I have peace in this slice of time, and a joy no one can take from me. Hopefully someday my nation will again be calm, hopefully....

On this first day of Lent, that is my prayer. Peace for all, peace in all. Peace for myself. Peace everlasting.

Patchwork progress

All the hand-quilty crinkliness I could want without having to sew together the top separately!

Been working on the Kawandi project lately, as well as another flag, which I'll post about soon. More to my heart is this hand-sewn eclectic lap blanket that could very well change the way I make quilts for the rest of my stitching days.

Sometimes life is like that, kind of how quilting took precedence over eleven years ago. Last year I was going to make a big deal about my decade behind the sewing machine; that never really happened. In another decade, will I wax lyrically about how for the first ten years I employed technology, then reverted to the less complicated method of needle and thread?

All I know is plotting out this quilt on my work table, then sewing it by hand has been EXHILARATING! I *might* even like it more than English paper piecing, LOL. Hmmm, another post for later methinks.

For now, other than a slightly sore right hand at the base of my thumb, the joy to emerge from a Kawandi-inspired manner of sewing is HIGH on my list of happiness. Non-harmful happiness is a must these days. I adore the colours, I love the simplicity, I don't even mind using heaps of pins to keep it all together. That's MY manner of Kawandi, at least for a large project. I'm curious if that alters in the next quilt.

The next Kawandi quilt might have an elaborately pieced back, courtesy of prints I threw on the design wall some weeks ago, and stare at daily while doing my stretches, where the design wall lives. Yesterday while studying it, I came up with the currently brilliant notion of finishing it, then using it as the back for my next Kawandi quilt. (I use the term Kawandi VERY LOOSELY, merely to denote the hand-sewing similarities I apply to a method I'm grateful to have just discovered.) It would also be lap-sized, yet bigger than what I'm currently stitching, also a good experience to gauge what I think of sewing through a pieced backing. And it would get those fabrics off the design wall, not that I have anything immediately I want to put on it.

The beauty of Kawandi is there's no need for a design wall. Organizing such a quilt happens on the fly, scrap by scrap, making for a gorgeous arrangement of surprisingly copacetic prints. That it's improv lends itself to a random but at times arranged design, which I realized last night. I'd planned to add low volume prints on the next round of fabrics, but instead I'll continue with vibrant hues, wanting to highlight the corner EPP blocks even more.

Made from leftovers of Red Sky at Night, the border sports low volume prints. Perhaps one more inner round of bright scraps, then I'll stitch lighter hues.

It's been lovely immersing myself in this quilt, necessary too. I hope whatever you do today brings you JOY and PEACE.