Lots happening on the writing front

This couple of weeks of solitude at the church have been productive for me. Sent off another manuscript to the publisher. Am waiting to hear back on a second one. And I heard this morning that a third is going to be published. Whoo! We're on a roll.

Peaceful Morning

Went for an hour-long walk this morning with Brio, through quiet, cold fields. Sun just coming up. A farmer waving from his tractor, already at work. Bird song from the forest. A perfect start to the day. I am thankful for quiet, for a beautiful world to live in, and for farmers who provide my breakfast.

Tree down

The neighbours had a rotting tree cut down today. Massive thing that shook the earth with a huge thud. But it missed our roof and landed neatly without killing anyone but a Rose of Sharon bush. Grateful it didn't come down on our heads.

I'm staying a second week at the church so that I'm here for the final furnace installment/propane hook-up on Monday. Was supposed to happen today but the furnace guy had a doctor appointment. So instead I'm cancelling my doctor appointment tomorrow so I can stay on... Sigh. Almost done, though! Then we have a reprieve from the larger renos for a while. I hope. Knock on wood.

Heading out of Town

 I am going to go isolate at the church for a week or two, but I have internet there so can still keep in touch. I'm alarmed at how many Covid cases there are in my area, and yet they're not shutting down restaurants or schools. I think we need a stay-at-home order for a couple of weeks, and then we could interrupt the terrible trends. Since the government doesn't seem willing to order that, I'm going to take it upon myself to do it instead.

Summer and Winter

 It has been an amazing, balmy 22 degrees celsius this week. I've been walking the dog without a jacket on, and the sky is that bright cloudless blue of mid summer. And yet there are crunchy leaves underfoot, and the smell of someone's wood stove, and the garden looking barren. You know winter is coming, and yet it doesn't seem to come. I've got my boots and coat ready, the snow shovel by the door, the bag of de-icing salt in the garage. New tires on the car. I'm letting Brio's hair grow longer to keep him warm. And yet I'm still in capris and sandals. It's a sort of schizophrenic feeling.

My favourite thing about summer is the smell of newly-mown grass, and getting my hands into the soil in the vegetable garden. My favourite thing about autumn is the sight of bottled fruit lined up neatly on the shelves, and that scent of apples and leaves and damp earth. My favourite thing about winter is...well, staying indoors with a book, to be honest. Or that smell of fresh snow. The hush when you first get up in the morning to a white world, unblemished by car tracks or footprints. The glazing of ice on every twig of the trees. The soft bubbling of stew on the stove. Yeah, I guess there are good things about winter too.

I can't believe the size of the maple leaves this year

 

Connections

 I am still here at the church, but I have internet access now, and I'm a bit amazed how much more alive the place---and I---feel now that I can connect to the rest of the world. Not only can I now work from here, via my laptop, but I can also phone and talk to my husband through Skype. I can stream music into the vast, echoing space. I can watch the CBC live, and tune in each morning (timidly, with one eye) to see if the world has gone up in a blaze yet. I watched a Hallmark movie on Youtube one night, and last night I joined some of the women from church for a meeting on emergency preparedness.

I feel perfectly safe here, but it's nice to know I can reach home or help in a hurry if I need to. And I'm suddenly very aware of how much I miss music. Since we've been taking boarders into our home for the past three years or so, I've been reluctant to play my music aloud for fear of disturbing someone. Someone is always there. But here, I can crank up Michael Jackson or sing along to Primary songs and it doesn't bother anyone. I can spin around in the sanctuary to bluegrass music and no one will snicker at my dancing. Or roll their eyes when I watch Seven Brides for Seven Brothers for the hundredth time. I even settled down to some writing for a while, and it's been a long time since I felt in the mood to do that to any extent. I find when I'm here, I'm reconnected to myself.