Yesterday, I again managed five pages (13, 14, 15, 16, and 17). Fuck, I wish I could have shown this sort of determination back in May, when I originally sat down to write this series. Today, unless something stupid happens, I'll finish #4. I'm on the fence about whether I'm going to immediately begin #5 and attempt to finish the series before we go home. In theory, if I work through Xmas, at five pages a day I'd be done by Friday at the latest. But I hate that I've been in the Catskills since the 5th hardly left the cabin. If I delay finishing Alabaster: The Good, the Bad, and the Bird until we're back in Rhode Island, I'll have a few days to enjoy Woodstock. But I want this thing over and out of my face. So, I go round and round.
By the way, Sirenia Digest #107 will definitely be late. I managed to get every issue this year out on time, until this month. Apologies. Eleven out of twelve isn't so bad.
I did get out for a brief walk in the woods yesterday, but the bitter cold soon drove me back indoors. I was once a hardy beast, and now I'm a shadow.
My copy of Roadside Geology of New York arrived yesterday. This part of the state is a wonderland of Devonian sedimentary strata.
Marco Polo came to visit us again this morning. I'd watched her frolicking in the snow, and I realized I'd never seen a cat play in snow before. Sophie hated the stuff, on those few instances she encountered it, and Hubero seems indifferent. Anyway, Marco came in, prowled about, got annoyed we had no cat food (or any suitable substitute), then left.
"Let me in, humans! The turkeys are coming!"
I haven't much else to say for the moment, not to say here. It's Solstice, isn't it? So, the days will grow longer again, and slowly the dark and the chill will be pushed back for another trip around the sun.