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The trees are in place. It is the job of Patrick and Marla to set up Christmas the day after Thanksgiving. We had a great meal of Cornish game hens with a brioche dressing, mashed potatoes with leeks and cream cheese, seasoned with rosemary. Roasted carrots with herbs and spices. The dressing, carrots and potatoes were from new recipes we were testing for Christmas dinner. All was delicious. Only failure, total failure, was the dessert of cranberry/ricotta tart. Perfectly awful! So Amy gets the job of dessert for Christmas with her ginger crusted pumpkin pie.

After three days, they were on the road home taking my etching press and screen door I bought and never hung. Now I am planning on closing in the porch. It is too sunny and very, very windy at times making it mostly unusable right when it would be a good idea to sit out there.

Amy and Marla want to do some contact printing with leaves over Christmas. We will have to rely on the flowers at the grocery store but will make a good time of it however and wherever we find plant material. I think I still have a few Eucalyptus leaves from those I ordered a year or so ago. The house will smell wonderful!

So they went home. I went back to the gym in much cooler weather with nice skies.

The cats are loving hanging out near the fireplace.

I have counted up 27 new poems since my poetry book was published…Inner Navigations by S. Webster. So soon I hope to have another book of poems ready to put together. I am also working on another short story. I have missed writing but find with divorcing myself from all news and keeping to a somewhat more reclusive life, my mind has been freed up to just carry on.

The weather has been quite cold and not inviting for walks around the neighborhood. But each lap through all the rooms of the house is 250 steps, so I manage to keep up with getting 8,000 steps per day on weekdays.

Here are two new poems: The first is a rework of the Outback poem written several years ago. Back then it was kept short to fit in an artist book of long landscape illustrations.

The second is from a question Patrick asked: “Have you ever thought of the smell of sadness?”

Outback

 

Alone with my back to a world left behind,

I walk further down the track.

 

Where it will call to me,

deep and distant at first, then nearer.

 

There!

 

Between the hushed whispers of gum leaves

and water trickling down dry riverbeds.

 

Coming from somewhere out there

is the sound of waiting.

 

Layer upon layer of waiting

 

For mail, for rain, for husbands, for doctors,

for children finally coming back home…

 

I move slowly toward its steady

pulsing breath.

 

Just over the rise ahead, down close to the red sand,

the waiting hums in anticipation.

 

I rush forward, only to find

the sound of waiting has moved on.

S. Webster

 

*Note: I so miss that country and remember how these feelings of the outback came to be. It was my first time there in ’97 and my hostess took me on a walk in the outskirts of Canberra. Once you left the suburbs, it was all distance and quiet. I kept asking if we could just keep going further out into the bush to see what more was out there. She politely declined with a warning that following those desires is what causes people to get lost and perhaps not found. She said it was time to turn back. I heeded her warning then, but over the many times finding myself alone in the bush, I did go further…and then a bit further. There is nothing quite like being alone in the outback of Australia.

And here is my response to Patrick’s question….

 

Smell of Sadness

 

It comes from the barn

or somewhere near there.

 

A brief scent that drifts past her

when hanging clothes on the line

or working in the garden.

 

And when it lingers in the air

for too long

she wipes a tear and wonders

 

what must have happened

to cause this smell of sadness.

S. Webster

Back to writing now. It is almost one o’clock and there is plenty of time to lose myself in a fictional life.

Til later….

 

Early morning light on Patrick and Marla’s first morning here. We went off to walk the river and have lattes at RareBird. It has been quite awhile since I walked along the river and it never disappoints. See what I mean.

It was too cold even for ducks and geese on the river….wonder where they go….

The lattes were wonderful to warm up to….not to mention all the jolly Christmas decorations filling the shop.

Before they arrived I worked hard to get all the butterflies and moths finished. Now I am a bit sad they filled every page of that section. Now what to do next? I think it will be birds by themselves…maybe an egg or two. Then save the nests for one of the two larger-paged sections. Anyway, here are the last of the butterflies/moths.

I tested out some new recipes for Thanksgiving dinner. Roasted carrots with cumin, coriander, cinnamon, pistachios and chopped dates. Smashed potatoes with leeks, rosemary, garlic, cream cheese, sour cream and parmesan cheese. And a different dressing using brioche, sage, shallots, rosemary, etc…all sitting under halved Cornish game hens. It was delicious. Only failure, flaming failure, was a cranberry ricotta tart. Inedible with its sourness. The conversation was typical Thanksgiving conversation….politics. And all with a fine wine.

The following day was putting the brown twiggy masking tape branched/LED lighted trees. Placing the glass pears,  handmade birds, stars and balls made from old book pages. The cats found it all quite fascinating. Then we placed a small lit up fake tree on the bench by the front door and finally a set of three iron reindeer grouped beside.

Patrick decided that someday he may want to try to do more printmaking and loaded up my etching press with its stand and accessories. That freed up the front windows in the studio room so we moved over the shelves from the window in the den. And then before they left early this morning I had the two of them help me pick out a seating bench for under the window in the den. They laughed and suggested that whatever they pick out should also fit in their own homes after a couple years in mine. Marla hung my last framed artwork and help straighten slightly tilted ones. Patrick fixed the handle on a kitchen drawer and decided he could fit in the screen door I bought well over a year ago and then decided not to use it. He has two possible places it could go at his house.

I may have run out of things to pawn off on them.

They also agreed with me that it would be a good idea to close in my little screen porch. It is only 8′ x 10′ but gets way too much sun and wind…so the shades do little but flap away at will. I will follow up on that idea after the first of the year.

Both Patrick and Marla said their three short days here was extremely relaxing and restful. All that is left is their towels drying in the dryer. Everything else washed and put away. They even took the leftovers with them. When they return in three weeks for Christmas, they will go to the house I rented for them just around the corner.

I have one new poem written this morning and plan on writing more later before meeting friends for dinner out.

I will check the mailbox and address cards while listening to an English murder mystery. Maybe a wine to celebrate a successful holiday.

Til later…

I love these early morning trips to the gym. Lovely skies that fill my head with ideas.

The other day it was this idea of writing a letter to the editor for the county newspaper. Then doing a follow up by repeating it on Facebook. The response I received was as follows:

three private messages from local women. all positive and one I knew.

several, well, maybe five from around the country, all positive and saying they share my view.

and many, many from other parts of the world, all sympathetic, all thinking we have lost our minds, and some sharing my post.

I suppose that I shouldn’t be surprised by the low number of local support. After all, the votes to change America came from some place. And staying silent will send a message. And I got it. So here is the letter.

On November 6^th this year I woke to the realization that the America I’ve known and loved for over eighty years will no longer exist. As of January, 2025, this country will not only be controlled by the whims of a sex-offending, convicted felon with the mind of a petulant child, but the low-integrity sycophants he has groveling for power.

This is what enough Americans wanted for their future and the future of those of us who could see and hear what would happen and fought for the better option. Worst of all, those who voted for this were also willing to sacrifice the futures of their grandchildren – granddaughters.

The new president of the United States will take this country into autocracy, into fewer and fewer rights and away from the freedoms we mistakenly took for granted.

There is no chance for me to move to the countries I would want to – Australia and Canada. I am too old and have lived beyond my value to them.

So, I stay here. In this foreign country where I will be a guest. Where I will be polite and try to make eye contact with those who gave my country away.

The tears have ended as well as the anger and frustration. The sadness never will.

All news has been turned off as I retreat into my art and writing while I stay in touch with those who understand. Here I can take comfort in the fact that the past eighty-some years have been the best America could be.

They did remove the words “sex-offending”. I don’t know why.

So, I baked peanut butter cookies, did laundry, vacuumed, talked to family, went to the liquor store, and am getting ready for company at Thanksgiving. I will be thankful for the friends who give not only support but a bit of sadness for where America has landed. And because they are from many countries, New Zealand, Australia, Canada, Uruguay, England and more, there is a clearer perspective on the future of the world. And more surprise and anger at so many women supporting this new misogynistic system about to take hold.

I have been staying in my studio listening to audio books while I draw. Now I am out of books and waiting for more to become available through the library system of borrowing them. The cats are napping this cooler weather away.

And here are the last bunch of butterflies and moths.

I only have six more double pages to go and the section is finished and ready to turn over to start birds and nests.

There is an urge to start writing again. Only so much I can be done to calm the fears of older friends, Jewish friends, LGBTQ friends. Seems we are all trembling in a boat too small for this rocky sea. God, there are days when it is so easy to just hate people.

Any suggestions for audio books I might get through Libby, the sharing library system?

Now it is time for an Aussie red and toast to the men and women who offer support. Thank you!

Til later….

 

This morning I printed off my Happy Holidays cards and tipping in the prints. By next year it might be a requirement that all cards must say “Merry Christmas”. Evangelicals can now make demands without worrying about civil rights that were automatically taken for granted by non-evangelicals. I really hate this new country! Someone in the safety of living in Australia told me to “not let the bullies win.” She needs to understand that these are not “bullies” but the people my neighbors chose to control our lives. Seeing the key states turn red said all there is to say. We will be a country controlled by a sex offending felon and as many equally deplorable people that he can assign to positions of power. The price of groceries, gas, most consumer goods will be the least of their worries once “their hero” takes office. Not for me. I am living in a foreign land and have said goodbye to America. At eighty years of age, I have lived the best period America had to offer. My financial advisor advised me this week that my assets are safe for the next four years, and beyond. I am grateful for that. I am also happy that my children have safe jobs and an eye to what they will have to endure for the foreseeable future.

So here are my cards, ready for signatures, messages and postage.

Just before going to bed the other night, I saw this across the road.

I miss the moon from my old place. Nothing stays the same! Before I would call these changes, “new adventures” . Now I call them inconveniences!

Just saw a neighbor go by and called her back for some wine. I will continue later…..

Well, that was lovely. Now I have moved on to a red. She wanted to see all the pincushions of the trump movement. I don’t have it in me to do his latest cadre of sycophants. I consider his sycophants all those who put him back in office. Way too many to waste time on.

But here is where I escape along with audiobooks.

I now have at least ten more pages penciled in of moths and butterflies. It is so calming to work in this book. Seven more pages and I can turn the book over and do birds and their nests. Tomorrow I will compose a letter to the editor of the local newspaper. It is disappointing how many people prefer to keep their views to themselves. Still afraid of repercussions. At this time in our history, does it really matter? I would rather speak up than let others assume I am in agreement with the new world order.

And yesterday I went with a friend to the Tree Decoration Display in the local court house.

Every tree was decorated by a different local business. And everyone looked the same. There must have been a sale on flocked trees. Each looked like it was from a department store display. Nothing unique that spoke of the individual businesses. We gave our voting tickets to a kid who had his heart set on a packaged Grinch tree. I met “Santa”. He was a good looking Santa without the red suit but terrific vest and boots/hat. The odd thing was that he assured me that in 32 years of doing this he only had two complaints for preaching the gospel. Before I could say, “Make it three.”, I left. I thought Santa was to only be concerned about naughty or nice. But no, now you have to be a believer in the gospel.

I am worn down.

Til later….