I have numerous projects of this scale that I want to get to this summer, but I've refused to try and complete them all in the first weeks of summer. My utility room/pantry needs to be cleaned and reorganized; Daniel's carpet needs to be ripped out and replaced; and the cabinets in the kitchen need (desperately) to be scrubbed inside and out. And so on. I've opted to do all this around the things I want to do--like spending time with Gary and the boys, reading, writing, and gardening. I guess, what I'm saying is that after several months of fretting about deadlines, it's nice to do things on my own time. I don't mind working hard, I'd just like a few minutes here and there to appreciate the results of it.
This morning I watered the garden, weeded, and harvested lettuce and took time to appreciate my flowers. Roses, tiger lilies, Irises, geraniums, and begonias are all blooming. I've decided that there needs to be more flowers in my life, more moments of whites, yellows, reds, and oranges.
The garden can be left for a day here and there now so I have other outside projects to get to. My next project is to sand all those gourds I grew last year, drill holes in them and paint them. I expect this to take all summer. And this year, I will put in the path around the rose bed I built from rock and mortar last year and build other beds in C shapes around that. Someday there will be a fountain built from salvaged materials and more rock.
Meanwhile, the Dog Story (Have I mentioned that it needs a better title?) is flying toward the close. It's actually been hard to put it down today. This is the advantage to shorter projects. Completion is never far away. You are several chapters (probably not the right word for a short story) behind me at this point. I can see the entire world I've created--which is far bigger than the story on the page--and it all fits together better than I expected it to.
If you are following along or have just joined or are lost--here are the links to the previous sections. When I have more time, I'll add them to the side bar. (Meanwhile--click on the roman numerals)
They swarmed like bees to a queen, brushing against her in their excitement, keeping limbs, wings, tails, talons from the fringes where morning daylight burned.
They had News. A Creeper had found a way in.
She knew that. She also knew the Creeper had been dispatched quickly by One of the Whole and that a second attempt had been rebuffed by the oldest of them before it got past the inner boundaries. It is not news if he was caught.
The Creeper came forward. I was too greedy, he admitted. But they don't know how I got in. They think it was a moment of inattentiveness at the windows.
She gave Creeper's words little credence. Darkness was the mother of many fools.
He must have sensed her indifference. The young one dreams—the entrance is narrow and fleeting, but it is there.
They leave it unguarded? This didn't sound like the Whole.
They don't know he's having the dreams yet.
She thrilled. The boy was young—too young to be having the dream. But perhaps it was possible. If it was true then they didn't have much time. The Whole wasn't without its strengths, as much as she hated to admit to it, and one of those was their attentiveness. Maybe. If we move very fast . . .
In days. In days, the crowd agreed. A shudder of excitement went through them collectively and the chant rose in dissonant rhythms. We kill. We kill. We kill.
Kill. Yess. We kill. But first we return some favors.
The hissing rose, wings beating rapidly, maws gaping in rapture, sending a chilling breeze out on the wind looking for a mark.