Not really quilting

I haven't managed much quilting this week and I have a batch of things to finish. But I've mostly been writing and reading research material for that writing and waking at 2:30 and plotting how to start the next segment when I get up in the morning and turn on the laptop. I like doing this, I'm not complaining. To me it's exciting and delightful. So is quilting but on a scale of 1 to 10 the writing is at 10 and the quitling is 8 or 8.5. So there's a frustration factor in that no day has enough hours.

I'e spent an extra hour all week walking Molly-dog who belongs to my daughter who, with her family is vacations. I say "extra" hour because we spend an hour morning and lat afternoon but I would spend an hour anyway. I don't at all mind the extra hour, it's good for me and enjoyable -- except that this afternoon she was very interested in a patch of bushes. Suddenly she made a mad rush through them, pulling the leash tight as a formerly sleeping cat dashed for the porch of the house where I presume she lives. The leash was hopelessly tangled and I had to unhook the dog, hod hold her by the collar with one hand as I untangled th leash with the other. Could have been worse -- could have been a thorny bush an the can could have been a skunk.

Picture above is a few of the crop of rose hips in a tangled patch on th beach. They begin sort of golden but gradually turn Christmas tree ball red which is gorgeous. Below is a bit of the beach Molly and I walk. Early in the morning, our walk time, dozens of littl carbs have dug holes with little piles of sand at their entryways. Once in a while one sees on at the entrance. I know next to nothing about the precarious live of those little things -- seems to me they must be very vulnerable to all kinds of birds. So much about nature that is a mystery.