Life Persists

Our resident pair of sandhill cranes are expecting; Mama just built herself a nest in our neighbor's horse pasture.

This species of bird has been around on the planet for about 2.5 million years, according to the fossil record.

I shot these pics on zoom from the car; one does not mess with sandhill cranes, as even when they're not nesting they can be very aggressive.

This is probably the third or forth brood this pair hatches; we've seen them before with youngsters a couple of times over the years.

Fortunately this pasture is fenced off to keep any gawkers from getting too close to Mama.

Her mate is also standing guard 24/7. Hopefully in a few weeks I'll get some pics of the babies. Final bit of trivia: sandhill crane babies are called colts, like horses. :)

Making Hand Sanitizer

We're about halfway through our only bottle of hand sanitizer, and there is still none at the stores, so I looked into what I need to make my own. I actually have everything I need according to this Wired article with a quick recipe for making your own.

Okay, I don't have the essential oil, but we don't care how it smells.

My guy was looking for a small bottle we could use to put some hand sanitizer in his truck, and I wanted one for my purse. While scrounging around my bathroom drawers I found four of these (one is now in his truck):

I honestly forgot I had these; my daughter liked them so I'd always buy a couple extra whenever I went to Bath & Body Works. Problem solved. :)

Past

While rearranging my office I found a bunch of journals tucked away in a drawer. I think I pulled these from my collection (huge) because I was looking for an old photo. It was fun looking through them, so I'll share some peeks inside:

Back in 1986 I was writing a lot of sonnets. Also some pretty savage stuff that I might end up tearing out and burning, as it turns out. Kind of startling to see how pretty my handwriting used to be, too. I'm naturally a leftie, but the year after I wrote this journal I had two surgeries that basically destroyed that hand.

Shopping for dresses in 2015 so Katherine could go to her boyfriend's prom. She didn't get this one, but it was my favorite. I thought it made her look like a Monet painting.

2011, and at the time I was writing Nightbred and having trouble getting into the head of the female protagonist. The last time I wrote her she was just a kid, which is how she stayed in my memory. Ageing up former characters is never easy.

My idea to write on vellum back in 2014 was a bad idea; the ink is beginning to fade now. But oh, so pretty.

Skye as a puppy in 2010! Golly, she was so cute.

Sojourn

This is the journal I was referring to as my plague journal. I renamed it today: Sojourn, as in the noun form: a short stay in a place that is different for me.

I've been keeping track of the pandemic in it and how it's affecting us daily since March 6th. When I'm too emotional to write (which is often) I use word stickers to compose short poems (the right page is blurred in this pic because of content I'd rather keep private.) I also tape in things like Chinese fortunes and other little fragments from my daily life.

Adding calming images recycled from my old Zen calendars to some of the pages prompts me not to write in anger. That's helping a lot, too.

Restoration Quilts

I'm rearranging my quilt closet this week, and deciding what I want to keep and what I can donate. Among the keepers are three I'd like to restore, and there's no time like the present. Here they are:

This one is a hand-pieced and embroidered tumbling blocks quilt with crazy quilt border, all silk. I'm not sure of the age on this one because it has a very new red velvet backing, but I'm going to guess early 20th century. Several patches need replacing.

I love the border:

Late 19th century attic windows quilt, all silk including the ruffle and backing:

The ruffle has shattered and torn in several places and can't be repaired, so that has to go. The blocks are repairable, but the quilt is extremely fragile so I'd have to be really careful. It's a beautiful piece, though:

Cotton Dresden plate quilt, maybe about twenty to thirty years old. This is an old practice piece I started to restore, and then set aside for another project and never got back to. I'm pretty sure it's an import, but it's in very good condition and worth repairing. I planned to replace all the plate patchwork with violets and greens as I did with the one plate I repaired to give it a different look. Might still do that.

I think I'll probably start with the cotton Dresden plate, as I'm a little rusty on restoration work. If I can do one patch every day I think it will help me get back into my quilting mindset without pushing myself to be too creative.

Free to Watch

Just a heads-up, Bluprint.com (formerly Craftsy) is making all of their 1420 online class videos free for anyone to watch until 4/9; all you have to do is register an account with the site, which only requires an e-mail.

These are the class categories:

Quilt (208) Sew (198) Cake (193) Knit (164) Cook (121) Photo (83) Bake (78) Paint (75) Draw (75) Embroidery (58) Paper Craft (55) Crochet (52) Jewelry (50) Wood (24) Garden (23) Other (21) Family (14) Weave (12) Spin (9)

I made this quilt from a kit I bought from them back in 2018 when they were still Craftsy, and I have watched a couple of their free shows in the past. Definitely worth it for free.

For Anyone Who Wants to Make Cloth Masks

I found this free online pattern designed by nurse via Angela Clayton's YouTube channel.

To quote the designer:

"This pattern is designed to fit in two ways. First, directly over the face, similar to a surgical mask. Second, the pleats expand, allowing the mask to fit over many models of N-95 to provide a protective barrier, in the hope of extending the lifetime of the respirator."

Angela tweaked the pattern, but here's her video on how she's making them so you can get the general idea:

Time for a Refill

This morning I woke up to discover I had run out of pre-written posts for the blog, having burned through all the ones I had saved while dealing with the new reality. I haven't been quilting or sewing, either. I have been writing a lot in what I'm now calling my plague journal, but that's my emergency emotional valve. Basically all of my creativity and the outlets I use for it are in lock down, and because I'm diverting my energy into things that don't inspire me, the well is emptying fast and on the verge turning into an abyss.

Result: I'm miserable.

Today I'm going to start refilling the well. I started by getting up earlier and going for a walk with the dogs. Being outside in the sunlight gave me a chance to look at the sky, which is pretty today, and be surrounded by the loveliness of spring. Everything is green here, and I'm lucky to live in such a beautiful spot.

I'm also going back to what always floods the well: writing. I have a work project to finish, and also an idea for a new story, and I'm going to work on both. The idea is just a spark right now, but with tending and nurturing I have the feeling it will turn into wildfire.

Be valiant is my old motto. It's also my new motto. Time to get to work.

1% is not a Solution

It's going to be one of those days when I need to write something about the pandemic.

I checked the current population of the US this morning, which the internet says is 327,700,000. Three percent (the mostly frequently touted mortality rate of Covid-19) of that is 9,831,000, but it's possible that it's as low as 1%, which would be 3,277,000. I think it's safe to say that if this highly infectious virus spreads unchecked, somewhere between three and ten million people in this country will die.

About three million people die every year in the US anyway, so the best case scenario is that we'll double the average annual death rate -- if nothing else factors in. If the virus doesn't mutate. If our healthcare system is not overwhelmed by the number of cases and more people die because they couldn't get care. If the people who initially survive the virus don't relapse or experience complications that shorten their lives. In other words, if we're very, very insanely lucky, only three million will die.

Who are these three million? Some of your elected officials will have you believe they're the elderly, as we're the most vulnerable. I suppose we've had a chance to live longer than most, so it seems justifiable that we can be sacrificed. But then, we'll also be murdering people with pre-existing conditions or suppressed immune systems (and, I assure you, not all of them are old people.) A good portion of the dead will be neither old nor vulnerable; that's just the way this plague works. So, let's say three million random people can die for the greater good.

If someone rounded up three million citizens in this country and executed them, we would call it a holocaust. Even if they were old, or not as healthy as others. I can think of no cause that would make our government do that.

Or I didn't, until I woke up this morning.

Here's an alternative plan: let's just kill everyone who is infected right now. At this point that would cost only, what, a hundred thousand lives? Peanuts compared to three million, really. We don't really need that senator, or those congressmen, or those celebrities who are infected, right? By summer the US would be virus-free, and the economy back on track. It's just as heartless, yes, but the numbers are better. And that seems to be the only thing that matters to the government right now. The numbers.

Just one problem with both plans: We are not numbers. We are human beings. We are all important.

"Whoever destroys a soul, it is considered as if he destroyed an entire world. And whoever saves a life, it is considered as if he saved an entire world." -- Jerusalem Talmud, Sanhedrin 4:1 (22a)

My wish today is that we don't kill anyone on purpose. That we put the value of all lives above the numbers. That we do what we must to save as many as we can. That is the only decent solution.

A Wee Bit of Humor

Fun fact: Mr. Oliver can trace his half ancestry back to Scotland, thanks to his Mom. On his Dad's side the DNA is French and German (we don't know what I am, but I might get one of those ethnicity tests one day to find out.)

I was looking up some Scottish jokes the other day to send to Oliver's Mom, and found these:

What's That

A shifty-looking guy in a kilt walks into a London pub.

He orders a pint, and very very carefully puts down the duffle bag he is carrying.

The bartender asks, "What's that?"

The guy leans forward, and in a whisper says, "6 pounds of explosives."

"Thank Christ for that," says the bartender, looking relieved now. "I thought it might be bagpipes."

Sorted

A Scottish dad calls his son in London the day before Christmas Eve: “I hate to ruin your holidays, son, but I have to tell you that your mother and I are divorcing. Forty-five years of misery is enough.”

"Dad, what are you talking about?" the son demands.

“We can't stand the sight of each other any longer,” the father says. “We're sick of each other and I'm sick of talking about this, so you call your sister in Leeds and tell her.”

Frantically, the son calls his sister, who explodes on the phone. “Like hell they're getting divorced!” she shrieks. “I'll take care of this!”

She calls Scotland immediately, and yells at her father, “You are NOT getting divorced. Don't do a single thing until I get there. I'm calling my brother back, and we'll both be there tomorrow. Until then, don't do a thing, DO YOU HEAR ME?” and hangs up.

The old man hangs up his phone and turns to his wife. "Sorted. They're coming for Christmas - and they're paying their own way."

Me First

An Englishman, Irishman, Welshman, Scotsman were captured while fighting in a far-off foreign land, and the leader of the captors said, "We're going to line you up in front of a firing squad and shoot you all in turn. But first, you each can make a final wish."

The Englishman responds, "I'd like to hear "God Save The Queen" just one more time to remind me of the auld country, played by the London All Boys Choir. With Morris Dancers Dancing to the tune."

The Irishman replies, "I'd like to hear "Danny Boy" just one more time to remind me of the auld country, sung in the style of Daniel O'Donnell, with Riverdance dancers skipping gaily to the tune."

The Welshman answers, "I'd like to hear "Men Of Harlech" just one more time to remind me of the auld country, sung as if by the Treorchy Male Voice Choir."

The Scotsman says quickly, "I'd like to be shot now."

Thinking Backward (and Forward)

While sorting through yet another pile of stuff I collected during my spring cleaning, I found these two watercolors tucked away in a folder:

I painted these eight years ago when I took an online class in metallic watercolors. On a whim I went to see if my slideshow of the work I did for the class was still on Flickr, and it is (click here if you want to watch it.)

I'm never going to set the art world on fire, of course, but I enjoyed it for the most part, and I learned some tricks. While taking the class I also came up with my own technique to transfer the pattern of an abstract lace with the watercolor, which is what made the background for this piece:

Once I finished the class and did my final project I went back to doing my own thing art-wise. I find I'm happier learning on my own from books.

I also found these stashed away in another closet:

Ice Cathedrals, 1996

Jax (character painting), 2004

Mattias (character painting), 2004

What I realized when I looked at these old paintings was how little I've diversified since getting into art quilting and slow stitch. Quilting is really all the art I do now, and while that's okay (it makes me the happiest) I do miss painting.

So now I'm rethinking what I want to do with my art this year. I'll stay focused on quilting, of course, but I need to pick up a paint brush again, too. No more excuses!

First Signs of Spring

Flowers are blooming in our new little garden in the front yard:

Hello, Spring.

Mask Making

There is a lot of buzz going around about making masks to help during the pandemic, especially from the fashion industry, which I think is amazing, frankly. This is a way those of us who sew can really help. I just have to see if I have interfacing and elastic (cotton fabric isn't a problem), and then I'll start making them.

Important note: cloth face masks are not protective enough for medical staff to use alone against the virus, but they can be used with face shields to help get them by during critical shortages. They can also be used by support staff that don't have close contact with patients to free up the more protective masks for medical staff.

If you are in a position to make cloth face masks, have the materials and a sewing machine, check in your community to see if you have a mask-making effort going on. I know JoAnn stores are accepting donations of finished masks; here's the page with all the details.

LT Goes Free

Library Thing is now free for everyone, which I must say is pretty cool.

I've been a lifetime member since LT's early days, and while my catalog there is sadly out of date, it's nice to see them do this in response to the pandemic. Now book lovers all over the world can use the service and keep track of their books.

Image by jarmoluk on Pixabay

Got Crib Rec?

My grandson even sleeps adorably:

We set up this makeshift bassinet the last time Oliver stayed overnight with us. I'm hunting for something else now in case he has to come stay with us for any length of time. He's rolling around and getting ready to crawl.

Anyway, does anyone have a rec for a sturdy, safe, not too enormous crib or something similar?

A Long Drive

I finished and turned in my latest book on Tuesday. Yesterday was a beautiful day, sunny but cool, so my guy and I decided to get out of the house and take a long drive. The roads were virtually deserted until we got into the city, but we didn't plan to get out or stop anywhere. We just drove east until we hit the ocean. This is Ormond Beach, a little north of Daytona:

Ormond is more of a locals' beach, but still, I've never seen it so deserted on a nice day. There are usually hundreds of people at this beach. I kept looking at these two chairs and wondering if I was in the Twilight Zone.

We then drove back home the long way, via a scenic highway route we like to take through the marshes and woods.

My guy spotted something we'd never noticed before -- an old pair of brick smoke stacks in the woods, so he decided to stop there to check it out. That was how we found this:

We love old buildings, so we walked back to have a look.

Colonel Dummitt is better known for his citrus groves, which he cultivated south of here in Brevard County, but evidently this is where he set up his slave-run sugar mill to make rum (he did that in Barbados before the English abolished slavery there, and forced him to go.)

Seeing the remains of a 195-year-old mill was a bit surreal. The whole site is surrounded by a tall fence (through which I shot most of my pics.)

Another lady was there with her husband taking pictures; their car had Alabama plates so I imagine they were on vacation. We waved to each other and smiled, but stayed too far away to talk. In front of the ruins was a field of weeds and wild flowers filled with butterflies.

I'm glad we went, even if the experience was a bit sobering. We've decided that (unless gas has to be rationed or shelter-in-place orders are issued) that we'll go on a long drive once a week, just to get out of the house for a bit.

Inspiration in a Tea Cup

My tea cups aren't as pretty as this -- actually, all of mine are mugs -- but I get a lot of inspiration out of them. Tea is a big part of my life, thanks to books from my childhood. P.L. Travers wrote about tea in her Mary Poppins novels, and Laura Ingalls Wilder's father was always drinking it in the Little House books. Alice in Wonderland had that wild Mad Hatter tea party, which still is my favorite part of that story.

When I grew older I read about it in Jane Austen's novels, where it always seemed to be part of the setting, but also helped with the action:

"Mr. Woodhouse was soon ready for his tea; and when he had drank his tea he was quite ready to go home" -- Emma

"Mr. Tilney drank tea with us, and I always thought him a great addition" -- Northanger Abbey

"some of them did decide on going in quest of tea" -- Persuasion

"When the tea-things were removed, and the card-tables placed" -- Pride and Prejudice

In books tea brought people together to visit, talk and share stories. It seemed to me an exotic and elegant part of life. For as long as I can remember I wanted a real silver tea pot, and a tea cart, and dozens of porcelain cups, so I could stop everything at four in the afternoon to drink some. I longed for sugar in lumps, real cream, real lemon and all those marvelous little cakes that went with it.

A few people in my family drank tea, but it was no big deal to them. No rituals were involved, either. During winter months when the weather was chilly, my diehard coffee-drinking mom would serve hot tea with the meal to help warm up everyone. Those were the days when no one had central heat (or air conditioning, for that matter) in South Florida -- and since we only had three or four cold days every year, I didn't get tea often.

Once I reached adulthood and got out of the house I brought tea into my daily life. I stuck to good old Lipton at first, and then I began cautiously trying other varieties. I discovered Twinings had an Irish Breakfast Tea that woke me up better than coffee, but with my insomnia I couldn't drink it at night. Celestial Seasonings had all those cute, colorful boxes of various teas that promised no caffeine, so I tried a few of those and discovered how much I really loved herbal brews.

I've gone through literally hundreds of types and brands of tea since those days. I especially love blends with chamomile and lavender, and anything with cinnamon, ginger or peach in it. In forty years I've found only two varieties that I can't drink: that foamy green tea the Japanese favor in their ceremonies (way too bitter) and Earl Grey (tastes like perfume to me.) I think that qualifies me as a genuine tea-lover.

How tea contributes to my work is in how it became part of my process. For me tea and writing just naturally go together; I'll often make a pot before I sit down for a writing session. It's soothing, fragrant and seems to shift me into a more creative mode. I feel I am at my best when I'm drinking tea -- more thoughtful, less in a hurry, and more in tune with my senses. The experience of drinking tea prompts me to take my time and enjoy what I'm doing, and feel good about it. Sounds weird, but I even think I'm a better writer because of tea.

It's no surprise that tea often shows up in my work, either. Like me, Cherijo from StarDoc was a tea addict. I often worked in little mentions of my favorite brews through that series (often the one I was drinking while writing that particular scene.) In fact you'd be hard-pressed to find a book I've written than doesn't have tea in it somewhere.

I've given up the dream of having a silver tea pot and tea cart, and to be honest I prefer sturdy mugs more than delicate little cups. I'll never stop drinking tea, however. For me there's inspiration in every pot I brew.

Image by Terri Cnudde from Pixabay

Wishing You

Happy St. Patrick's Day from Valerean.

Image by Kathleen Bergmann from Pixabay

Silver Springs in Ten Pics

From a hike my guy and I took last month: