Moonlight Express; Or, I Finished My Story!


I finally wrote ‘The End’ on my 130,000 word novel that I’ve been working on since November! Okay, I admit it. I need to go through and clear out a few thousand words. It’s just possible that they’re not all golden! But it feels good to finish this story, about a boy who’s the ninth son of the ninth son of the ninth son in the city of Moonlight, and the guard that goes with him on  his mission to save the city.

We’ve got underwater creatures as big as buildings. We’ve got cliff dwellers and creepy octopus creatures and night rides in the sea.

And guess what I saw when I stepped outside just now. The glowing light of the full moon! I fell blessed. How perfect, thank you, Lord, that I get to create art!


Only Tired… Hmmm

only tired

Look at this interesting picture I found. It was apparently a song entitled: ‘Only Tired’. Now my husband has been gone all week so he’s not here for me to ask. I look at this picture and I wonder. What does it mean?

She’s sitting outside holding a letter. She looks dumbfounded. Above her head a heavenly chorus is honoring a crown.

So, you tell me. Why is this called, ‘Only tired’? Does the letter say something like this:

‘Dear Pondera, I’ve been REALLY tired, while I knoweth that thou art merely ONLY tired. Thereforeth, I’m handing the throne down to you. May the angels rejoice at the choice. Exhausted, Queen McClean’

Or perhaps the letter is a sad one. Someone has gone home to heaven, where the heavenly chorus sings to Jesus the King. Why then is she ‘Only Tired’? It’s a puzzler.

Ooh! I know! She’s a Sunday School Teacher, sitting in the garden, pondering how to teach the children about Jesus the King. She sees the heavenly future so clearly but the little ones are too busy building with earthly blocks and chasing each other around the yard. She wants to point them to the glory going on in higher realms. Only she’s tired.

Galatians 6:9:

Let us not grow weary or become discouraged in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap, if we do not give in.

Also, look at this! The Bible has such beautiful words! As an author I love finding passages like these, and thinking of being tired, I’m feeling like I’m getting older too!

Ecclesiastes 12 Amplified Bible (AMP)

Remember God in Your Youth

12 Remember [thoughtfully] also your Creator in the days of your youth [for you are not your own, but His], before the evil days come or the years draw near when you will say [of physical pleasures], “I have no enjoyment and delight in them”; before the sun and the light, and the moon and the stars are darkened [by impaired vision], and the clouds [of depression] return after the rain [of tears]; in the day when the keepers of the house (hands, arms) tremble, and the strong men (feet, knees) bow themselves, and the grinders (molar teeth) cease because they are few, and those (eyes) who look through the windows grow dim; when the doors (lips) are shut in the streets and the sound of the grinding [of the teeth] is low, and one rises at the sound of a bird and the crowing of a rooster, and all the daughters of music (voice, ears) sing softly. Furthermore, they are afraid of a high place and of dangers on the road; the almond tree (hair) blossoms [white], and the grasshopper (a little thing) is a burden, and the [a]caperberry (desire, appetite) fails. For man goes to his eternal home and the mourners go about the streets and market places. Earnestly remember your Creator before the silver cord [of life] is broken, or the golden bowl is crushed, or the pitcher at the fountain is shattered and the wheel at the cistern is crushed;

A Post Of-olda-post-Clip Show


Here is the first pic I eva did, of smiling bird and pat-a-kit,

Of blogging dreams and playful times, and spouting fluff and near-rhyming rhymes,


Here’s a pic of me, bearable after I took 20 other selfies,

Unfortunately, this was a while ago, my hair is grayer, no!

Humphrey Bogart as Sam Spade 1941

Humphrey Bogart as Sam Spade 1941

And here for some reason we have Bogart in ’43,

Absorb some coolness in the blog, and forget he’s smoking,

garden dance black and white

I love to write poems based on pics with a story dream,

Like this one of romance and her contented gleam,


Or a pic like this, her ancient computer alight,

She’s concentrating on bringing a story to life,


Oh, on this blog I’ve had many things to share,

about children, and God and journeys from here to there,


Ancient sunlight, vintage hopes, happy endings, and inner telescopes,


Book covers, cuddly bits, Friends and no politics,


Here is a pic of my back windshield, there’s a bat! I said, blatant and unconcealed!

(Ha ha, just to show you my bat-cave coolness is real,)


Perhaps there’s not an audience for this my cheerful room,

And throngs won’t see my goofy thoughts arise to hold off gloom,

Still I’m glad that someone did, and maybe it was YOU.


Thank you, dear friend, I really appreciate your views!!!


Current Climatic Clencher


Crunch Time!

Now I have to actually figure out what my climatic end scene of the book will be, even though I’m several chapters away from beginning the wave up to it. Here are a few blurry photos I took of my planning notebook!


I used to be able just to think and write, but now I have to draw and color to pull creativity out of myself. I’ve actually enjoying having this notebook and keeping this record of my progress. I’m thinking I’ll get a new notebook for each book that I write! (I’m sure this is not such an original idea, but I’m patting myself on the back, going, ‘wow, cool idea!’)


On to the end!!!

Nighttime Flight


From the current WIP- of course Kye has to learn to ride a Zilkie himself!

‘The next night after the others had gone to sleep, Kye had enough of watching the others ride the Zilkies. He’d explained to Dysian that he was feeling strong enough to ride them too, and that he knew how to rewrap his arms when the bandages got soaked through by the end of each day. But Dysian’s last argument had been that they didn’t have the time, since they were rushing to Eyain, to stop and teach him how. He grinned now as he heard Dysian’s steady drawn-in breath sounds accompanying the snores of several others. Up above the moon was bright and making the wave tops lit to a delicate slate blue. He moved to the edge of the weavecraft and slipped easily into the water, so that the loss of his weight wouldn’t rock the craft.

He swam far enough away to attract the creatures but not so that he lost sight of the weavecrafts. Since their journey began he’d made sure that it was his hand that’d fed the Zilkies many of their treats so that hopefully they’d trust him now, without the added advice of Kenjaro. Anthym had told him that underwater was the best place to make a Zilkie acquaintance. Kye took a deep breath, changed directions and let the bottom of his own feet be visible for a moment as he swam downwards.

The Moonlight dissipated swiftly under here but still there were lyrical slats of water shades to create a new atmosphere. He treaded water gently and felt the depth and the majesty of this world. He couldn’t visit for long, but he had these few moments before the air environment demanded his return.

Still he was surprised when it happened. There was a bend in the waves, a rush of power behind and then beneath him, and Kye barely remembered to accept the seat that was offered to him. He clutched as best he could and became part of the shot fired. The massive feeling of speed burst he and the Zilkie out of the water for just a second of flight. Kye couldn’t help but laugh as the Zilkie and he saluted the wind before they angled back under water again.

Deep, it seemed that the rushing underwater world had become milk and bubbles against the silkiness of this ride. They next time the creature took him back up and achieved arcing flight over the surface Kye couldn’t help himself.

“Woo Hoo!” he cried in exultation, as Anthym had done.’

Zilkie Speed Rider

Here’s a snippet from my current Work in Progress. Aqua Boy type Fantasy!


‘…the force of the approaching Zilkie could be felt like a swirl pushing against his (Kye’s) legs. He came to the surface, treading water. A second later he was rewarded.

“Anthym!” he roared, so loud it left no doubt. “Stop right there!”

The Zilkie soared and there was a flash of red hair, but at least, it seemed that Anthym had heard him. The Zilkie went back under and the second form folded and then broke apart.

A moment later the lad’s red hair cleared, and then his face, laughing and spitting out a bit of extra sea water.

“Did you see that, Kye?” Anthym shouted with joy. “Did you see it? The Zilkie just scooped me up and gave me a ride!”

Kye, treading water beside the excited boy, nodded his head. “How did you know, Lad?” he asked. “That a Zilkie was nearby and you could get on it?”

“Kenjaro told me!” Anthym exulted.

Kye noticed that they had an audience; most of the others had swum closer to hear. They made a companionable circle of faces in the water, now that they weren’t anxious about Anthym. The weavecraft floated nearby and the Zilkie swam back and forth a few hundred feet away.

“Kenjaro can sense the Zilkies when they come near?” Dysian asked.

“Kenjaro says that Zilkies are like cousins to Otterbys,” said Anthym. “Not as smart though. He says the bigger they are the smaller their brains.”

Kye couldn’t help but grin in the appropriate direction.

“You’ll keep that comment from coming out your mouth, if you’ve got any smarts, Kye,” answered Ajax, who was floating across from him.

“You may tell Kenjaro that human’s brains aren’t built the same,” said Dysian. “We may seem big, but we’re not necessarily dumber.”

Anthym just smiled. “Kenjaro says he’s not sure about that, Mister.”

Tebahk shook his head. “Are you really hearing all of these things from the Otterby?” he asked. “How is that possible?”

“It’s a long story, Mister,” Anthym replied.

“And the Zilkie came right up to you!” Tebahk went on in amazement. “You rode it like you’d been training for years, Lad!”

“Can I ride him some more?” asked Anthym, looking at Kye.

“Let’s think about this,” said Dysian. “Anthym, ask Kenjaro if you’re the only rider a Zilkie will accept from our group.”

“Kenjaro says,” answered Anthym a few seconds later, “that with his help, other Zilkies would probably be willing to accept us. Three should be all we need to go north.”

“Three!” exclaimed Tebahk. “I’m still astounded that even one came so close to you!”

“Well, can I?” demanded Anthym, itching to continue his ride on the Zilkie.

“Not unless you can direct its movements, instead of it taking you for a ride!” answered Dysian. “Tebahk, how do your people control the Zilkie’s?”

“I can show you that, if the Otterby really can convince three of the creatures to come near you. Directing a Zilkie is similar to the way you ride your Korgies.”

“Don’t worry, Mister!” interrupted Anthym. “I’ll jump off if the Zilkie takes me too far away! Can I?”

Dysian gave in with a laugh. “Oh, all right, Anthym. At least falling off a Zilkie doesn’t hurt like falling off a Korgie does.” ‘

In the Pocket of His Love

pocket mirror

Above is apparently, a painting on a pocket mirror, done in 1796. The verse says:

  ‘Misfortune ne’er invade her breast,

                              But peace which knows no end!’

Now, I’ve  been a little down lately. It seems to me that I fail a lot, and this occurs to my mind late at night. I ask the Lord forgiveness, but I’m not sure for what and have no drive to change things. I miss my boy.

‘Home to Heaven where he will be,

Happy for all eternity.

Up there he’s having a party,

and whole new worlds to see…’

But there’s others I want to come. People in trouble I care about. Prayers for souls that rise like aches.

Nighttime is when it all visits me.

But I won’t quit. I’ll always hold on to the knowledge of His love for me.

Whether or not I deserve it, or if I’ve accomplished anything or followed the rules or learned to love others just a teensy bit more than before, and much more than myself.

At night I want to be a child, dancing in the sun,

In a field where Christopher Robin might run.

Or a hobbit.

I will remain in His pocket.

I Need to Get OUT There!


Look how intrepid, oh marvelous trot~

With riding-cap and socks-a-polka-dot.

Double-button waist coat

and little leather gloves,

poofy-sleeves and swirl-skirt and bright (green?) skies above.


A little smile shines in her eyes,

says she’s in the moment and doesn’t realize.

How tiny is her waist and how energetic her face,

and how the years,

go fleeting like gears,

and our bodies can’t keep up the pace.


Looking for my younger self,

in the oh-so distant past.

Striding panting up this hillside,

yet here I’ll be in the moment at last.


A fresh breeze will call to me,

like a love song of old.

Telling of God’s sense of adventure,

and the landscape so bold.

And yet delicate- the branches, the ornate lacery,

Walking (or bike-riding) is a journey that’s good for me!


This gift is daily for me to find,

Trails underfoot and grassy pathways unwind.




Snippet From My Favorite Professor

smuggler's den

Here’s a scene from my book, which I’ve never published yet. It’s kind of special to me. Formerly titled; The Professor Finds a Way, and currently titled Sagistic. In this scene Finklebrecht- nicknamed ‘Finch’- is teaching his soldier partner Attaclearon how to talk to gnomes.

Suddenly Attaclearon jumped.

“Whoa!” he said. Finklebrecht looked over and met the gnome’s eyes. Vanhi had just finished breakfast and joined them, and now he’d evidently spoken in Attaclearon’s mind again.

“Your partner is annoyed with you,” sent Vanhi as a message in Finklebrecht’s mind, and stating the obvious. “I can feel a strong impression of his emotion.”

“He’s had a difficult time being saddled with me,” sent Finklebrecht back, shutting his eyes.

“Gnome seems to be talking to both of us at the same time,” muttered Attaclearon. “Tell me again how to talk back to him, Finch.”

Finklebrecht explained. Patiently.

“His thoughts go directly to no target,” sent Vanhi. “I can’t receive them.”

            “Put your thoughts in a box, Attaclearon, and send them out,” said Finch again. Attaclearon scrunched down, with his eyes clamped closed. But he only sat still for a few seconds before he expelled his breath with impatience.

“Quit wiggling and concentrate,” scolded Finklebrecht.

“Just what box are you talking about, Finch?”

The box. The one in your mind. Don’t you see it when Vanhi talks to you?”

“There’s no box, Finch. He just talks to me; that’s all.”

“Not all humans can communicate with us, Finch,” put in Vanhi. “This has been noted before.”

“Maybe the gnomes should talk to Captain Bann,” said Attaclearon out loud. “Tell him, Finch.”

Finklebrecht sighed.

“I don’t need to tell him. Vanhi can hear and understand you just fine, Attaclearon. You already figured that out with Seskanu. They just aren’t comfortable relating to too many humans at once.”

“Just tell me about this box, Finch. Is it a wooden box?”

“No, idiot. Think of it like a frame, then.”

“A frame. Like a picture frame?”

“Like your mind is a chalkboard and I’ve just drawn a box on it with white chalk.”

“What’s inside the box? And do you close the lid?”

“There’s no lid, Attaclearon! Four lines, connected at the corners! Like this!”

“Well, you don’t have to shout.”

“Close your eyes. Sit still. Make your mind a chalkboard and draw four lines on it in the shape of a square.”

“Could’ve said that in the first place,” mumbled his friend.

“You see it? You’ve got a box?”

“Big box or small?”

Finklebrecht spoke very careful.

“Big enough to see the message inside it.”

“What message?”

“The one you’re going to send. Tell Vanhi you’ve got black fur from your navel to your neck.”

“I’ll tell him your bird brain fits in a box.”

“Quit picking for nits.”

“Quit ruffling your pinions.”

“I don’t know what you’re going on about anyway. I’m not riding off into danger this time. The unicorn won’t do me any harm.”

“You attract worms. You’ll find trouble in no time.”

“Attaclearon, you’ve the more challenging job. You have to hide Vanhi, deal with these prisoners and escort both the gnomes home if I don’t get back in time with Jisette. Just you be careful.”

Attaclearon sighed, and then he closed his eyes. It took a few seconds, but then Vanhi jumped beside him.

“Whoa!” the gnome sent.

“What is it?” sent Finklebrecht back to him.

“It was your partner. He just said something to me. He’s figured it out, Finch.”

            Finklebrecht opened his eyes and stared at Attaclearon, and then he smiled. He clamped his hand on Attaclearon’s shoulder.

“Good job, my friend,” he said to him. “I knew I was leaving Vanhi and Seskanu in good hands.”