Coyote Lodge is the name we've given to this place, because the first night we spent here was filled with the songs of coyotes. The dogs and I heard them again this morning, early, when we were out for our walk. They were singing from the mountain on the other side of the valley, a lovely song of virtuoso glissandos and diminuendos and stacatto yelps and yips and barks. The dogs (Lady and Toro--Zach is in Texas with Bill) paused, pricked their ears, and listened, then decided that this wasn't a message meant for them and went on about the business of smelling deer scent along the snowy road.
Coyote isn't as large as it looks in the photo, but it's just the right size for us: living/dining/kitchen in one open space on the main level, with a bedroom; an open loft above, where I have my writing studio. It's at the back of the house (you're looking at the front), and the window looks out on the pine-covered ridge you see rising sharply behind us. On the lower level, the garage and Bill's workshop. I love the logs, like living inside trees.
Whether it's the view from my window, or the solitude, or not having to cook supper for Bill--whatever, the writing is going well and happily. I've finished the first of three planned sections of the book--the easiest, about our life at Meadow Knoll. Hoping to finish a draft of the second part before I leave here at the end of the month.
Fiber stuff. This is the new quilt I'm working on for the large wall in the living area. Bill hung Bluebonnet high under the upper window, the one you can see just under the gable, and the quilt will go below her. Bluebonnet? Oh, yes. Our big longhorn skull, which Bill bought at the Canton TX flea market a few years ago, for me to use in a photo shoot. You'll see Bluebonnet on the back of Spanish Dagger, when it comes out in April. This photo is not mine, and the quilt is not an original--not my original, I mean. It's a kit, because I just don't have the time to hunt for quilt fabric. And because it's the perfect color and size for the space it's to fill. I've strip-pieced the center section. I only have evenings to work on it, since the days are filled with writing--hope to get the top pieced before I leave, and will take it back to Texas for hand-quilting.
Reading note. Traveling to a strange new landscape is a kind of romance. You become intensely aware of the world where you are, but also oblivious to the rest of the world at the same time. Like love, travel makes you innocent again.--Diane Ackerman, The Moon by Whale Light