After one more brief sojourn, to visit our son in Nevada, my husband and I are home for…. Well, for a while, whew! I enjoy getting out and about, but after a few weeks of traveling all over the West, pleasure at being in my own home is palpable. Summer has arrived in Silicon Valley, not only in warm temps, but in lush gardens, dying front lawns, and our fruit trees laden with apricots and peaches. I need to deadhead roses and trim back honeysuckle, but I’m reveling in the comfort that is my domain. And that includes my writing/sewing grotto too.
Yes, I’m back to reading The Hawk, but I’ve jumped up several chapters. I’m determined to return to writing at some point this summer, so Part 11 is my starting place, of sorts. At the end of today’s chapter, Renee notes that for all surrounding them, at least she can fall back on pie, dolls, and simpler pleasures. I’m taking that as a sign not only for a post, but how to best reacquaint myself with a manuscript. Just one bit at a time.
Today’s pics are from the rest of my night photo shoot in the desert near Las Cruces. With only a phone, my shots of the moon weren’t overly impressive, but the next time I find myself there, hopefully I’ll have a good app installed in order to snap the Milky Way. Simpler pleasures were truly found that evening, from gazing at the twinkling night sky to warming up in the car when the wind grew too chilly. The stillness was amazing, other than when a photographer shouted to another if they could shine a bit of light, as no one wanted to interrupt what might be a great photo in the making. While the cameras being used were sophisticated, basic elements of courtesy were just as necessary. We can’t erase the technology employed in so many parts of our lives, but thoughtfulness never goes out of style.
And now I’m home, giving consideration to my book, hmmm. I read a couple of chapters yesterday from Part 8, but Parts 9 and 10 have been set aside. Realistically, I just don’t have the time to pour over them if I want to manage any writing before 2018. And that statement is a lot for me to ponder; where has time gone, the time I used to give to creating fiction, time now spent in other avenues. When I began this book in October 2013, grandkids weren’t a glimmer in anyone’s eye. My father was recovering from chemo, thinking he might have another twenty-five years. Much of my time was spent at this computer spinning yarns, but now this space is shared with fabrics, dude! There are many stories I want to tell, but I’ll tell ya, finishing The Hawk comes first. Except, it doesn’t; my life isn’t merely about writing, although it used to feel that way.
I can’t say it feels like any previous time; it’s new every day. And that’s good, don’t get me wrong. I love all the elements which make up my existence, but it’s a little hard acclimating to this altered journey when a few parts seem to be missing. The Burrito and Little Miss are fantastic additions to my sphere, but what about Eric and Lynne, Renee and Sam, Marek, Laurie, Stanford, Klaudia…. Those fictional members of my family have been patiently waiting for me to get my butt back in the chair, and now that scheduled getaways have thinned out on the calendar, I am so ready to do little else but read, then write. However, this life of mine isn’t only about me….
However, it is about following a call to which I am inextricably linked, and through that relationship I trust all t’s will be crossed, all i’s dotted. I am grateful for some wisdom age has afforded me, knowing what needs to be accomplished will indeed occur, and certainly not in my own strength. That faith has sustained me in crucial moments, also in slight niggles; when am I going to get back to writing my book??? Maybe (hopefully) this summer. If not…. Well, one of these days. And in the meantime, there’s pie, dolls, and simpler pleasures. Little Miss turns two soon, a new doll on my sewing table ready to gift wrapped. The words will come amid family, love, and further life lessons, the kind of which never truly end.