Back home it’s still freezing nights, though it’s warming up quite a lot in the day time. I’d hoped to have the mints planted before I left, or at least leave them out hardening, which I’d certainly be doing most of the years I’ve been here. This year I decided to leave all of the herb plants indoors. I hope my plant sitter waters them correctly! It has finally warmed up. At not quite 8 am in North Pole, it’s 27 degrees F.

Here in Ithaca, it’s 72 degrees, trees are green, and flowers are blooming or even past. Some photos I took this morning:

Lilacs toward the end of blooming, this morning in Ithaca

Welcome back for another snippet from War’s End. The big question for all of them (aside from how to stay alive and get home) has been how they got from the ship (which was getting decidedly unfriendly) to the surface of Rakal.  Now they may have that answer, though the problem of survival is still there.

“Lyra said if she were frightened enough she might teleport to me. But ….”

“Colo was still after her!” Audi exclaimed. “She went farther to get away from him, and since she wouldn’t leave you, and we were all in physical contact, she brought all of us along. No wonder she’s hungry!”

“Poor baby,” Ginger said as she rummaged in her kit. “Nothing wrong with you, Coralie—no Human mammary system could keep up with the energy demands of a R’il’noid baby who’s just teleported that much mass. No wonder she couldn’t quite manage the energy and momentum matching.”

For more snippets, click on the logo at the top of the page to get to the list for Weekend Writing Warriors, and that at the bottom of the page for the facebook page for Snip Sunday.

I’ll be slow getting around today (most will be next week, if at all) because I’m taking off in a plane about the time this goes live at midnight. (The only way to get connections out of Alaska is via the red-eye.) If I make my connections, I’ll get to upstate New York (Ithaca) well into the afternoon and I am not going to arrive in any condition to be surfing the internet and leaving coherent comments.

Almost any stone will do for pounding, Little Gnu assures me, but for tools to cut, the stone and how it is shaped depends on what is to be cut. Most of the cutting tools he showed me were some form of microcrystalline quartz: chalcedony, flint, jasper or even agate. A few decorative pieces, more for showing off or for grave offerings than for use, were of colored quartz. But his real prize, used only for the most delicate of tasks, was a carefully chipped piece of obsidian as sharp as any steel knife.

“The stone is rare,” he told me, “and not easy to work. Sometimes I can arrange to trade a worked piece for a much larger piece of the raw material. But sometimes a thorn or a spear is driven into the body, and this is the best kind of knife for cutting it out.”

“It is also,” Gazelle remarked, “the best thing for cutting hides. When I can get my hands on it.”

It took me a moment to remember that Little Gnu was not at the gather the year I presented them with obsidian. “Would you like some raw stone to work?” I asked. “I know where I can find some, and it would be easy enough to get it. You could make knives while you cannot walk well enough to hunt.”

He was delighted at the suggestion, and so was Gazelle. “If he has more of that stone, perhaps I could have a knife of my own,” she said, “just to use for cutting tanned skins.”

“I know it is not the truth, and I say so.” The Dolphins of Pern, by Anne McCaffrey. Master Fandarel is contradicting rumors he knows are not true, that the dragonleaders are dragging their heels about settling the Southern Continent.

“We intend to talk to you or at you or at you, but you would be wise to pay attention.” The Dolphins of Pern, by Anne McCaffrey. Larad, speaking for the Lords when they confront Toric.

“I sing the songs of old so that the young do not forget the past.” The Dolphins of Pern, by Anne McCaffrey.  The Tillek (Head of the dolphins) in response to Seball (Masterharper) saying she has much the same position as he has.

“When your Master calls, you go.” The Dolphins of Pern, by Anne McCaffrey.  Readis’s new master and teacher is the Tillek, and she has just called him to join her.

“Stars did not change their courses.” The Skies of Pern, by Anne McCaffrey. Shankolin, one of the conspirators against AIVAS, rehearsing to himself what his father taught him.

“He had a duty to perform, a wrong to right, and a theory he must confirm or forget. The Skies of Pern, by Anne McCaffrey Shankolin again, justifying the terrorism he is planning.

“Maybe I can do something about it when I’m older, but not alone. Tourist Trap, Sue Ann Bowling. Roi dislikes more than one thing about the Confederation, but he knows no one will listen to someone as young as he is.

I miss the strawberry mint, though. It was my favorite last year, but this year it seems unavailable.

It is still getting lighter. The days are increasing by 7 minutes a day, and by the middle of the week we will no longer have civil twilight – the sun will never go more than 6 ° below the horizon. Legally, we could drive all night without turning on our headlights. Not that night is very long. The sun rose this morning at 4:33, and it will set 18 hours and 30 minutes later at 11:04. By the end of the month it will be setting after midnight. (It already is, in Nome, thanks to the rather screwy definition of Alaska Standard Time.) But at least it’s warming up, though we had some snow flurries last night.

The Farmers’ Market isn’t actually open yet, but the vendors had a cleanup last Saturday. The picture is of the vendors’ parking lot. They are trying to pump out the water, but I suspect it will still be pretty wet when the market opens.

And if I needed any more doubts about my sanity, after just finishing the A to Z challenge I’ve signed up for the 2013 Blogathon. Expect some short bits about my experience with self publishing on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays.

Welcome to another snippet from War’s End. Coralie has just realized she has no more milk for Michelle, who’s been nursing almost continuously. Kelty and Ginger seem to have figured it out, and Ginger is speaking first.

“Coralie, it’s not you, and I have some milk substitute in my kit. Remember what happened the last thing on the ship? Just before we wound up here?”

“That man — he grabbed Michelle from me. She was afraid of him, and — but he was moving away from me! And Michelle was back in my arms! I thought — but he can’t have given her back to me.” Her eyes widened as she remembered the conversation with Elyra.

The conversation was before they were even on the ship, but you’ll have to wait until next week to find out what Elyra said.

For more snippets, click the logo at the top for Weekend Writing Warriors, or the one at the bottom for Snip Sunday.

Well, they’ve left.

I keep telling myself not to become attached to individuals of the People, because they age quickly and will die all too soon. On that basis, it is a very good thing that Songbird, Giraffe and WildDog will not be staying with me this year.

I will miss them.

I will even miss Meerkat, who has finally realized I have no interest in her as a mate and set out, very much behind my back, to seduce Lion, who lost his mate to a fever last year. I hope Lion knows what he is in for!

Not that Gazelle, the mate of Little Gnu, is not a good cook and clothing maker, or that her daughter does not remind me of Songbird as I first knew her. Gazelle has also taken to the fish traps, and we eat well even without a hunter.

Little Gnu has turned out to be remarkably adept at knapping stone. Giraffe did make a small spear point for WildDog, but he spent a great deal of time doing it. Little Gnu has almost finished his supply of stone, and every tool he has made is a success. He is not very talkative, but he has managed to make me understand that different tools are best made from different types of stone.

“If I bring you several kinds of stone,” I said, “can you show me what each is best for?”

He beamed as he has not done since the elephant attacked him. I think I may learn more about stone tools than I had intended.

Jarn’s Journal is a part of the remote back story of my science fiction universe. The entire journal to date is on my author site.

 “Out of darkness comes even greater dark.” Elfreda’s warning to Hertha that vengeance is not the answer. “The Toads of Grimmerdale.”

“In these days we take what fortune offers, we do not often please ourselves.” Hertha, coming to the inn alone and on foot. “The Toads of Grimmedale.”

“A man mostly made his own luck.” Trystan is certainly trying to make his. “The Toads of Grimmerdale.”

“When one is driven by a lash one takes any way to free oneself.” Trystan, recognizing that Hertha’s desire for revenge, though mistaken, is something he can fully understand. “The Toads of Grimmerdale.”

“To seek death willingly is also a sin.” The Abbess, warning Hertha against trying to go again into the Waste to free her baby. “Changeling.”

“We all choose our own roads, some with less cause than you.”  The abbess as Hertha starts into the Waste. “Changeling.”

“Don’t try to ford anything you’re not sure of.” Bowling, Tourist Trap. Timi’s advice to Flame as she sets off to find Roi, but it’s a pretty good general rule.

Mr. Darcy’s Diary

It is close to Pride and Prejudice as far as those scenes which mirror those Jane Austen wrote. The scenes with both Darcy and Elizabeth mostly retain the Austen dialog, and the additional scenes in the overlapping time period are mostly those strongly hinted at in the original—Lady Catherine’s descent on Darcy after seeing Elizabeth, for instance. It starts slightly earlier than Pride and Prejudice, with Wickham’s attempt to seduce Georgiana, and continues on for about six months after Austen’s novel ends. I found the extra scenes at the end one of the less satisfying parts of the novel, but I have to say that as a whole it is a very enjoyable read.

Next month I think I will have to reread the original Pride and Prejudice, if only to get my head straight on exactly what Jane Austen herself wrote. After that, I think I will reread what has so far been my favorite retelling from Darcy’s point of view, Pamela Aidan’s Fitzwilliam Darcy, Gentleman.