still– my windows wide open and the ridge of spruce almost slate against the darkening mauve. each moment is a kind of waiting. for a hint of breeze. the crow caws. my neighbour shouting for their dog, paula! paula! paula is always wanting.

i’ve begun work on a new half world novel…. we will see.

the news turmoils. missiles of threats. words of warning. death and death and death. oh holy light. the northwest skies are aglow. i am grateful for this.

when i am troubled by wordly woes, i sometimes think of le guin’s Tehanu and find strength, wisdom and compassion in the small acts close to home and hearth.