Running a bit late today, but that's my fault. Anyway, I should try to make this short. It'll probably come out long, anyway.

Today is mine and Spooky's seventh anniversary. Though we actually met in New Orleans in '99, it was a longish courtship, and we didn't get around to the commitment until 2002. But, yeah, seven years. Kind of boggles the noodle.

Not a lot to say about the first part of yesterday. I'm having a perfectly awful time trying to find THE END of "The Sea Troll's Daughter." As sovay has pointed out to me, this is the sort of story that is told, not read, and I think that's part of what's hanging me up. This really is new territory for me, both stylistically and (though not so much) thematically. So, I should have expected the snag. But, more than anything, at this point, it's simply a problem of what happens next, the dreadful artifice of plotting, Atwood's "a what and a what and a what" not revealing itself to me. The deadline looms like Great Cthulhu rising above the sea.

Later, we got out of the house, and drove down to Spooky's parents' farm in South County. It was a wonderful sort of New England summer evening. Cloudy, but warm. Clouds that threatened rain, but no rain. As we drove south, a mist settled over everything, and it was all we could do not to drive all the way to Moonstone or Narragansett. But it was a good visit with her folks. We saw Spider Cat and visited with the Steamsquid. Spooky retrieved a small fraction of her truly vast vinyl collection. Her dad gave us greens from the garden. At her mom's koi pond, we surprised a gorgeous little Eastern Garter Snake (Thamnophis sirtalis sirtalis). The blueberries and apples are getting ripe. We stayed almost until dark. It was so quite and green, after the noise of Federal Hill, I don't think either of us wanted to come back to the city.

And there are photographs:





A water lily in the koi pond, closing for the night.



Ripening blueberries.



Spooky examining the apples.



Spooky's dad cutting mustard greens.







View to the south.



View to the north, mist settling over the barn.



The final resting place of the Moonstone Steam Squid (or is it?).

Photographs Copyright © 2009 by Caitlín R. Kiernan and Kathryn A. Pollnac



Okay. The platypus says I must, must, must go now.

But! I also have a video clip that I'll try to upload to YouTube later today. Oh, and watch for micro-excerpt #12 from The Red Tree at greygirlbeast.