Sunday . . . on finishing . . .

Our possessions talk to us. Yes, we can walk through our apartments, our homes, and all our 'things' present us with dialogue. African violet? "Have you watered me?" Laundry basket? "You're late!" Mending basket? "When are you going to tackle me?" Pile of unread magazines? Dishes in sink? And writerly types, "When will you update your synopsis?"

But some of what we choose to keep close to us carry memories: An ivory elephant, an indigo-cloth covered box from my aunt who lived in post World War II Japan, a print of mermaids by Melissa Cole, a Spokane artist, another of Frida Khalo, a Turkish bowl with vivid red tulips. These objects we surround ourselves with nurture us and define us. We keep close those things that remind us of who and what we love.

This week the daily writing goes well (those word counts are racking up). I would get a sticker from Rachel (who teaches music) for having exceeded my goals every day this week. Two books came through on interlibrary loan. One from the Library of Congress, Thomas Cook's An Exile's Lamentations, written probably about 1841 to record his experiences as a prisoner on infamous Norfolk Island. And the other, First Australians: An Illustrated History (eds. Rachel Perkins and Marcia Langton) told from an aboriginal point of view, lavish with discussion and photographs of artwork from the 19th Century. I'd much rather read either of these books than dig into that mending basket! And it's Sunday. Time to heed the bird calls just outside my window and walk amid the lilacs in Manito Park.

At the end of each day, I check my office to see that all is cleared away, whether writing, research, quilting, or whatever project is current. For morning begins with writing Years of Stone, and I want my fingers to know the story.

You can see a preview of First Australians in a slide show or a video. The book also is available on amazon.