Showing posts from April, 2008

Spring Returns...

...and with it our annual sparrow tenants, Ozzie and Harriet, are once more in the garage, dive-bombing us if we go to get into the cars. They've come back for the fifth year, using the same old undisturbed nest in the never-will-be-fixed-now garage door opener, and their first batch of eggs has been laid. They'll switch back and forth sitting on it, and when it's their turn to fly free they perch on the huge birdfeeder in the back yard and stock up. Occasionally Ozzie, being braver than his wife, will come and sit on the rail of the deck while I work at my table, and chirp at me. That's very cute, but the hunningbirds will be back soon and that's where their feeder is.

This year we also have a resident mockingbird whose specialty seems to be imitating animals other than birds. Yesterday, it was crickets. The day before, it was the pack of coyotes who are marauding through the neighborhood. Just now, it's yelling at the dove that's gleaning from the s…


Coming June 8, 2008 from Aspen Mountain Press.

The Muse Beckons Again

I'm back.

It's time for me to snap out of the real world and back into my own quiet, sheltered, dear little space where I am at one with the universes in my mind. I've spent the last month dealing with the sorts of things that stifle creativity, only to wake up the day before yesterday to discover my muse: well-rested, impatient to begin, she sat on the edge of the bed and swung her foot irritably until I got out of bed and went to my study.

And for the first time in months, I locked the door. This is the universal signal of "Mom is busy; don't knock until you've lost two pints of blood."

I have missed my divinity, my absolute omnipotence over the worlds that drift through my study. I have five of them pinned to my walls at the moment.

Asphodel: huge, still-growing, and vibrant. Asphodel beckons me, compels me. It seems that she still has stories to tell.

The darkworlds and dreamworlds of Darkshifters: nebulous, sinister, twining around my head as I stare…

In Response to a critique

Image you go. One dead Elf, courtesy of You were right, Polenth--the old blog needed more dead elf imagery. This one's for you:

she TOLD me to do it.

So anyway, my daughter has ORDERED me to write a blog entry tonight, despite the fact that towels are now molding on her bedroom floor, and anxiously awaits what I will say. I got a grudging "You're pretty funny, Mom!" from her earlier while she read through two years of posts, so I guess I should comply.

Today, I've been doing spring cleaning. Not normal spring cleaning, oh no of course not. I've been moving the living room to the study and the study to the dining room and the dining room to the living room. That way I can scrub all the baseboards and steam clean the floors and move all the furniture, which is the joy of my existence. Seriously. I love rearranging rooms, and I'll fiddle with them once or twice a month just for the hell of it.

At any rate, I threw out my back and broke a toe on my left foot.

Couch confinement may not be a choice when I wake up in the morning. It may be a requirement. Isn't that pitiful? I shouldn't give up so easily. The…