Sequence?

OK, here's the deal:  I started a blog post several days ago.  But I wasn't where I could post all the pictures I wanted, so I didn't.  So now it's in "EDIT" where I can eventually go tidy it up, fix the date and post it.  Or not, because it'll be out of sequence.

But I think I'm past caring about sequence, so here's the deal:  I will be posting about a Most Remarkable Day (with pictures).  And it won't matter so much about sequence anyway, as it deals with meeting one of the  most interesting, talented women I've had the pleasure to cross the path of.  I'll give you a little teaser:  when I was introduced to her (by Mr Dearling, at a fun event in a nearby town) I did NOT -- I repeat, I did not - squeal, and while (not) jumping up and down, declare "Are you really THE...(her name will appear here).

In the meantime, a few recent details:  first, I am writing from the public library in Munising, Michigan, on the fourth of ten days we're spending in the forest cabin of friends.  It's isolated, beautiful, thoroughly modern.  It's comfortable beyond belief, and is heated by a (gas) potbelly stove.  There are rocking chairs, comfortable sofas and a modern kitchen.  This is the third (I think) year we've had this uncommon privilege.  There IS no internet (hence the library) and there's no teevee (except one we could watch tapes or DVDs on if we had any, but we don't).

Mr Dearling spends his days out hiking and his evenings reading.  I spend my days reading, knitting, writing (fiction), daydreaming and napping.  I also spend my evenings in this manner, with the occasional game of Solitaire.  In my lexicon, this is the definition of "bliss".  So far I have finished two books, completed a muffler and a baby cap, finished about 2/3 of the Mason Dixon "Ball Band Dishcloth" (which I've tried unsuccessfully to figure out COUNTLESS times before) and made real progress on a baby wrap.  I'll post pictures and book reviews shortly (but not today).  I'm keeping a daily journal, some of which may be either blog material or at least notes for same.

I also brought along some games (Yahtzee, Bananagrams, Milles Bornes) which I mean to share with Mr Dearling, and I also brought my little Tarot deck for some study.  And lest ye think I'm frittering - I also have two books along for program preparation for the museum...which is admittedly another form of delight.
So to go back a bit (and so that I can work in SOME pictures, which I feel obligated to include - AM I?  Obligated to put in pictures?  It hangs me up sometimes) - here's what occurred before we came up here:

I have a new beau.  A sweetheart.  My version of Raoul the Pool Boy.  His name is Natty Bumpo. ("Pathfinder", get it?)  His voice actually belongs to a fellow named Simon.  He has a British accent.

For some of us (well, ME) finding our way around in this world is challenging.  I cannot read maps.  I don't do "turn north at the gas station".  I'm a "right" or "left" kinda gal.   Never, in any travels, have I seen roads that are red, or state lines that are bright blue.  Because I am numerically dyslexic, things like "miles" don't mean anything to me.  Enter Natty Bumpo.

This is what he looks like at home.  Yes, I know - "geez, Dale-Harriet, that's just a plain ol' GPS thingie."  YES!  And because there are satellites in the arms of seraphim in the heavens, Natty (Simon) Bumpo can tell me how to get where I am going!!  I've tested him, having him take me places I know.  He works as if by magic (other than the time I was going to Barnes & Noble the back way and he almost had a nervous breakdown because I wouldn't turn around;  he's forgiven me). 

I am loving this thing, and will head off to Racine to my Writers' Fall Retreat confident that he will direct me STRAIGHT to my destination.   I have to admit, there are things in this, the 21st century, that I like.  A lot.

The day is passing, and I'm feeling anxious to leave all this civilization and return to the little refuge in the woods.  I can report that the weather is crisp, nearly freezing at night, and that the fall colors are "at peak" as we say up here.  I do know that I could not be happy living ANYWHERE that didn't have four distinct seasons, one of which was Autumn.  The potbelly warms the whole of the cabin, and I love it dearly.

I will therefore leave you with a picture which reminds me of my happy home, as the ONLY thing that could be described as "lacking" in this heavenly place is, of course, my kitties.  So - mindful of the grace, the dignity, the elegance which is my precious Evangeline:

Worshipful Daughter of Bast



 Watch this space;  we'll be coming back into town for at least one more connection to the Outer World.