greygirlbeast (greygirlbeast) wrote,

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"You flew away like a little bird. Are you all right?"

All the things I really like are immoral, illegal, or fattening. ~ Alexander Woolcott

And here we are on the twenty-fourth day of July, with almost two-thirds of the summer behind us. Slightly more for Rhode Islanders. And I'm trying not to feel panicked. I cannot work or think when I'm panicking. But I feel absolute terror and a sort of claustrophobic sense of suffocation when I think how near we are to the first hints of autumn, which could be as near as three or four weeks. I've spent so much time locked up in this goddamned room, I've hardly seen what little summer we'd had. I need to be able to just leave this room, step away from the computer, and write nothing else whatsoever until the cold returns and I have nothing better remaining for me to do but write.

Rain came last night. Today, it's cooler and overcast. Though, in the middle parlor, it's still 83˚F.

Yesterday, the mail brought my contributor's copy of Ellen Datlow's Fearful Symmetries, which includes my story "Ballad of an Echo Whisperer." Go forth and buy a copy. Now!

Yesterday, I didn't write, for the very reasons above. It was too hot to stay in the House, anyway. We left Providence about two-thirty in the afternoon and drove down to Spooky's parent's place in Saunderstown. The days as much cooler down there. Her dad showed me the most recent issues of Science, and I read "Late Pleistocene Human Skeleton and mtDNA Link Paleoamericans and Modern Native Americans" and "Marine Ice Sheet Collapse Potentially Under Way for the Thwaites Glacier Basin, West Antarctica." The latter posits a global sea level rise of more than three meters (9.8 feet), in addition to sea-level rise from all other sources, should the West Antarctic Ice Sheet collapse, which it will almost certainly do over the next 200-500 years*. One of the authors writes, "Very crudely, we are now committed to global sea level rise equivalent to a permanent Hurricane Sandy storm surge."

And then I passed out in a chair and slept half an hour while Spooky and her mom talked. It was peaceful sleep. I don't get much of that in the city. But the trees calm me.

The blueberry bushes are drooping with ripe berries, and the apple trees are loaded down with ripening apples. Her dad picked berries for us. Spooky took a lot of photos. I added a few more stones to Sméagol's grave.

There are photos behind the cut:

Bok bok.

Buzz buzz.

Wings faster than the eye.

Spooky said, "I have a little friend."

Tiny blackberries.

Foreground, background.

Spider cat.

Fairy table.

Sméagol's grave.

Indian Pipes (Monotropa uniflora)


I rescued this little guy from a plastic laundry basket.

All photographs Copyright © 2014 by Kathryn A. Pollnac

Spooky says to mention that she's sending out eBay packages today. Now, time to make the doughnuts.

Aunt Beast

* Not even a blink of the eye in geological time. How many generations are we capable of caring about?
Tags: "ballad of an echo whisperer", antarctica, anthropology, blueberries, bugs, ellen datlow, fear, global warming, inside, panic, shut in, sméagol, south county, spooky's dad, spooky's mom, summer
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