Wednesday, February 27, 2008
My great-aunt died last week, my grandmother's older sister. She was 92. What a vibrant, strong, forceful woman she was! I had not seen her in almost 20 years, I think, and I did not go to the funeral. Two funerals in six months was enough.
It is an odd feeling now, looking ahead to a springtime minus an aunt, a grandmother, and a great-aunt. There is a strong feeling, mostly unspoken, among my family that there has been a slow generational shift, a turning of a wheel, a turning of a page in our family book somewhere. It is not a bad feeling, just odd. Now it is our parents -- mine and Adrienne's -- who are patriarchs and matriarchs, and it is to us that guidance is looked for more and more.
But the sycamores and cypresses and maples are planted. Soon my Naith will be green with life again, and Belle and I can watch it transform together. Meanwhile, the RT's -- the red-tailed hawks -- have disappeared: nesting. The mews needs building. This may be the year that, at long last, I yield myself up to the hawk.
Whatever else may happen, all is right in the world.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
The daffodils Belle and I set out last November have come up... nearly all of them! When I showed her, and the memory came back, she kind of stared at them in awe and softly said, "Wow." My little gardener and lover of dirt pies!
So: Halls of the Elven-king arrived this week. Great background info. on the Sindar and Nandor, especially doomed Oropher and the reasons for the various relocations of the center of elven power in the Greenwood over the years. There is too little about Thranduil and his Queen in the primary sources (JRRT's writings). Well worth having for those whose focus is, like mine, on Wilderland. Well, focus for the moment -- that may change to the Morgai or Sturlusta Khand tomorrow.
Saw a red-tailed hawk late yesterday afternoon. Been thinking about the whole hawking thing again. I reread the chapter on squirrel hawking in McGranaghan's The Red-tailed Hawk last night. Sounds like a blast. May need to get Buteos and Bushytails to whet my appetite on the subject for a while, or at least until I get off my ass and get the mews built.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Sunday, February 10, 2008
I am going to be a father again!
We are very excited, nervous, anxious, all that. Already there is a name list. Most everyone knows by now. Some are happy, some are elated, some are cool. I am by turns happy, elated, and cool, myself.
But two will be enough, I think. Belle is already more than a handful. Do I want a son, or another daughter? With three girls in the house, I'd be very well taken care of! But a son... hmm. Whole new set of challenges, there. We shall see in about three or four months exactly what direction the Carlisle family will take.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Roon is still waiting on our copy of Far Harad to arrive from Britain, though I have virtually no hope that it will come. After the 8th, if it has not arrived, I will contact the seller about a refund or some other solution. I did get my copies of Dol Guldur and Teeth of Mordor, and they were all I hoped they would be, and more. Dol Guldur has a wealth of information on lesser Elven-rings that Sauron took from Ost-in-Edhil and bestowed on various underlings, and a cool story cycle about Gandalf's sojourns into the Hill of Sorcery. Imagine Gandalf utilizing a Fell Beast to escape from Khamul the Easterling, Second of the Nine! Fun, wonderfully imaginative stuff, to be sure. It also has -- thank the Valar! -- an encounter table for southern Mirkwood, which (I might add) the actual various Mirkwood modules do not.
Am I writing? A little, touch-ups to the children's story, but nothing more. I did have a great conversation with the Laurel writer Cleveland Payne, who actually was kind enough to give me a signed copy of his latest book, The Silver Pendant. Cleveland is a true gentleman, and is very encouraging and willing to share his experiences with the publication industry and whatnot. It's inspiring to see a fellow author from Laurel making good.
We hurry by some fair abode;
The garden bright amidst the hay,
The yellow wain upon the way,
The dining men, the wind that sweeps
Light locks from off the sun-sweet heaps --
The gable grey, the hoary roof,
Here now -- and now so far aloof.
How sorely then we long to stay
And midst its sweetness wear the day,
And 'neath its changing shadows sit,
And feel ourselves a part of it.
Such rest, such stay, I strove to win
With these same leaves that lie herein.
-- William Morris, from
"The Roots of the Mountains"