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Links to More Goodies . . .

Words to Consider

  • There must be more to life than having everything. -Maurice Sendak
  • The first revolutionary act is to call things by their true names, said Rosa Luxemburg.
  • When you arise in the morning, give thanks for the morning light, for your life and strength. Give thanks for your food and the joy of living. If you see no reason for giving thanks, the fault lies in yourself. —Tecumseh
  • i do it for the joy it brings / because i am a joyful girl / because the world owes me nothing / and we owe each other the world / i do it because it's the least i can do / i do it because i learned it from you / i do it just because i want to / because I want to —"Joyful Girl", Ani DiFranco
  • "Nothing living should ever be treated with contempt. Whatever it is that lives, a man, a tree, or a bird, should be touched gently, because the time is short. Civilization is another word for respect for life." - Elizabeth Goudge, author of The Joy of the Snow
  • "There is nothing I can give you, which you have not; But there is much, very much, that while I cannot give it, you can take. No heaven can come to us unless our hearts find rest in today. Take heaven! No peace lies in the future which is not hidden in this present instant. Take peace! The gloom of the world is but a shadow. Behind it, yet within reach, is joy. There is a radiance and glory in the darkness, could we but see, and to see we have only to look. I beseech you to look. Life is so generous a giver, but we, judging its gifts by their covering, cast them away as ugly, or heavy or hard. Remove the covering, and you will find beneath it a living splendor, woven of love, by wisdom, with power. Welcome it, grasp it, and you touch the angel's hand that brings it to you. Everything we call a trial, a sorrow, or a duty, believe me that angel's hand is there; the gift is there, and the wonder of an overshadowing presence. Our joys too: be not content with them as joys. They, too, conceal diviner gifts. And so, at this time, I greet you. Not quite as the world sends greetings, but with profound esteem and with the prayer that for you now and forever, the day breaks, and the shadows flee away. " (Fra Giovanni 1513 A.D.)

I Am Easily Amused

Art Dolls

  • Valentine Snipped
    My imaginary friends.

Artist Trading Cards

  • Feather
    A sampling of my ATCs. Some available for trade, as noted.

Beadwork

  • DST Pin
    Mostly pins, with some other oddments.

HookWork

  • Seaman's Scarf II
    Crochet of one sort and another . . .

Journal Quilts

  • Bubba's Quilt
    8.5" x 11", approximately, quilts to explore various ideas.

Paper Dolls

  • Pashmina, A Lady from the Mysterious East
    Second childhood? Not quite . . .

Books, 2009

  • Gatty's Tale, by Kevin Crossley-Holland
    In the year 1203, nine companions set out from Wales on pilgrimage across Europe to Jerusalem. Not all of them will return home. This is the story of Gatty, the field-girl already known and loved by readers of the Arthur trilogy. These four books are Young Adult, but I enjoyed all of them greatly—I'll pass them on to grandchildren at some point, but not yet.
  • King of the Middle March, by Kevin Crossley-Holland
    In the year 1202, newly knighted Arthur de Caldicot finds himself in Venice at the launch of the Fourth Crusade. But jealousies and greed threaten the Crusade—and Arthur struggles to pursue an honorable path, while his own life proves equally perilous.
  • At the Crossing-Places, by Kevin Crossley-Holland
    It is the 1200, and Arthur de Caldicot is about to leave his home to fight in the Crusades. But before he leaves, he must untangle himself from a web of murder and blackmail . . . and the mystery of his birth.
  • The Seeing Stone, by Kevin Crossley-Holland
    The year is 1199—on the border between England and Wales, Arthur de Caldicot waits impatiently to grow up and become a knight. His father's friend Merlin gives him a black stone—a seeing stone—that shows him visions of his namesake, King Arthur. It will be his fate to discover the connection between the two Arthurs.
  • If Ever I Return, Pretty Peggy-O, by Sharyn McCrumb
    60s folksinger Peggy Muryan moves to the small Tennessee town where Sherriff Spencer Arrowood keeps the peace—but someone is stalking her.
  • Three Woman, by Marge Piercy
    A woman, her mother, and her daughter—three lives intertwined.
  • The Seamstress, by Sara Tuvel Bernstein
    A Holocaust memoir. Bernstein was born into a large family in rural Romania, went to Bucharest where she eventually became a dressmaker, and ended up in Ravensbruck. . . and survived.
  • The Word Undone: The Story of the Great War, 1914 to 1918, by G.J. Meyer
    An exhaustive look at World War I, complete with lots of backstory and sketches of the major players . . . good for someone like me, who doesn't remember ever having studied World War I in school, other than someone shot the Archduke and then everyone fought . . .
  • An Incomplete Revenge, by Jacqueline Winspear
    In her fifth outing, Maisie Dobbs delves into a strange series of crimes in a small rural community—features gypsies, hop-picking, arson, and a wartime Zeppelin raid that no one in the village seems to have gotten over.
  • Messenger of Truth, by Jacqueline Winspear
    Nicholas Bassington-Hope has fallen to his death. The police call it an accident, but his twin sister doesn't think so. For Maisie to solve this case, she must explore the art world and the desolate beaches of Kent.
  • The Mystery of Grace, by Charles deLint
    Grace and John—a magical story of the intersections between reality and faery. (Hint: she's dead. He's not.)
  • PaganTime, by Micah Perks
    A memoir of Perks' childhood on her family's commune in the Adirondack wilderness. Strange, interesting, but not altogether enjoyable.
  • The Song of Rhiannon, by Evangeline Walton
    Retelling of the third branch of the Mabinogion: how Manawyddan united with his long-beloved Rhiannon, and what befell them afterward.
  • Prince of Annwn, by Evangeline Walton
    A retelling of the first branch of Welsh Mabinogion, the story of Prince Pwyll and the Grey Man, the Prince of Annwn, and how Pwyll won the Lady Rhiannon to be his wife.
  • The World Without Us, by Alan Weisman
    What would happen if our species disappeared? A close look at the processes by which things fall apart. I am heartened by the notion that things would continue without us.
  • City of Darkness, City of Light, by Marge Piercy
    A novel of the French Revolution, written from the woman's point of view—three women, in this case. An actress, a politician's wife, and a chocolatier.
  • The Story of World War I, by Robert Leckie
    (Adapted for young readers from The American Heritage history of World War I). I bought this one (used at Mr. K's) mainly for the illustrations, which are not only photos, but also contemporary illustrations, cartoons, and so on. It was well worth the $4.
  • Pardonable Lies, by Jacqueline Winspear
    Maisie searches for an aviator presumed dead in the War, but always thought alive by his mother. In the course of the case, she's forced to revisit France.
  • Birds of a Feather, by Jacqueline Winspear
    Maisie searches for a runaway heiress, and in doing so, revisits the agony of the Great War.
  • Maisie Dobbs, by Jacqueline Winspear
    Maisie, daughter of a struggling greengrocer, went into service at 13, studied her way to Cambridge, and served as a nurse on the Western Front. Now it's spring 1929 and she has just opened her detective agency . . .
  • The Great War, by Jay Winter and Blaine Baggett
    Companion to the PBS series, this is a look at World War I and its shaping of the 20th century.
  • The Last Gift of Time, by Carolyn G. Heilbrun
    Subtitled "Life Beyond Sixty," this is Heilbrun's look back at her 60s. Her conclusion: it's been a good life, all things considered.
  • Children of the Wolf, by Jane Yolen
    Fiction based on the true (and controversial) account of feral children in India in the 1920s. Sad, sad, but Yolen is always good.
  • The Starlight Barking, by Dodie Smith
    Followup to The 101 Dalmations (which I need to read again, I think), this features Pongo, Missis, et al, as they solve the mystery of The Great Sleeping.
  • All My Patients Are Under the Bed, by Dr. Louis J. Camuti
    Memoirs of a cat vet (who's allergic to cats), told in highly entertaining style. If you like cats, you will like this.
  • Blitzcat, by Robert Westall
    The Blitz. The firebombing of Coventry. England, bloody England. Lord Gort doesn’t understand war. She’s just a lost cat, trying to find her way home. Her trip will take her into the heart of the war, into the hearts of the people she meets, and perhaps break her own heart . . . I love this book.
  • The Hangman's Beautiful Daughter
    A murder-suicide in Dark Hollow, Tennseess; an old woman with “the sight”; a troubled minister’s wife; a dying elderly man; a poverty-stricken young mother . . . all combine to make Sheriff Spencer Arrowood's life more interesting than usual . . .
  • The Rosewood Casket, by Sharyn McCrumb
    A dying old man and his four sons who have come home to build his casket; Nora Bonesteel, his long-ago sweetheart and the woman with “the sight”; and the box of human bones she brings to be buried with him.
  • King's Oak, by Anne Rivers Siddons
    Andy Calhoun leaves her disaster of a marriage and moves with her daughter to a small town in Georgia “in search of banality.” What she finds, however, is Tom Dabney, poet, magician, and worshipper of the wilderness. He declares war on the poisoner of his woods, and she must choose . . . vintage Siddons, and my favorite of all hers.
  • Yvegenie, by C.J. Cherryh
    Kavi Chernevog has returned from the dead, to trouble Eveshka and Pyetr again . . . and their fifteen-year-old daughter Ilyana, who is, like her mother, a born wizard.
  • Chernevog, by C.J. Cherryh
    Eveshka, the former rusalka, is now married to Pyetr and living with him and his friend Sasha, the half-taught wizard, and she is in the grip of some dark magic. Kavi Chernevog, her muirderer, bespelled by the forest guardians, is awake and has snared Pyetr and Sasha. And the vodoyani, or River-Thing, is awake too . . .
  • Rusalka, by C.J. Cherryh
    Set in the world of pre-Christian Russian folktales, this is the tale of Pyetr Kochievokov, exiled from his native city, and Sasha Misurov, perhaps a fledging wizard, and the murdered daughter of their mentor, the old wizard Uulamets.
  • The Pigtail of Ah Lee Ben Loo, by John Bennett
    A children's book from 1928, featuring stories and poems illustrated with silhouettes. I can't believe my brother was willing to part with this!
  • Growltiger's Last Stand, by T. S Eliot
    Also containing "The Awful Battle of the Pekes and the Pollicles" and "The Jellicle Cats". Illustrations by Errol Le Cain.
  • Rabbit Hill, by Robert Lawson
    One of my fav children's books—the story of the Little Animals on the Hill, when New Folks move into the house. Will they be gardeners? Will they have good garbage? And will there be a Cat? (Lawson, BTW, illustrated The Story of Ferdinand.)
  • Milking the Moon, by Eugene Walter
    A Southerner's story of life on this planet. Walter is from Alabama, and it shows. Fascinating!
  • The Long Descent, by John Michael Greer
    "A User's Guide to the End of the Industrial Age." Greer, also writer of The Archdruid Blog, offers concrete suggestions for dealing with climate change, peak oil, and the decline of our present technological civilization. Well worth reading once, maybe twice.
  • The Love Letters, by Madeleine L'Engle
    Juxtaposes a 20th-century love story and the love affair of a 17th-century nun and a soldier, as both struggle with their vows. Superbly done, as usual.
  • The Woman Who Loved Reindeer, by Meredith Ann Pierce
    "In a wintery land where two moons shine, a young girl named Caribou falls in love with a man who isn't a man at all . . . " YA, but I enjoyed it on an adult level—and I liked the fact that Caribou was independent, took care of herself, and didn't let her falling in love interfere with what she needed to be doing.
  • Lolly Willowes, by Sylvia Townsend Warner
    A single woman's struggle to break away from her controlling family—but so much more than just those bare bones. Definitely a re-read.
  • Heartbreak Hotel, by Anne Rivers Siddons
    More drama from the Deep South. This time, sorority girls and segregation. One of her better novels, IMHO.
  • Sweetwater Creek, by Anne Rivers Siddons
    12-year-old Emily has survived her mother's abandonment and her beloved older brother's death by finding refuge in training her father's Boykin Spaniels. But her troubled new friend threatens to blow a hole in Emily's world and let reality in, with all its troubles. Written in Siddons' usual purple prose, but engrossing as usual—it kept me distracted for a couple of days while I was sick.
  • The Goblin Mirror, by C.J. Cherryh
    As a vague sense of menace threatens the small country of Maggiar, three young princes, a wizard, and a huntsman become caught up in a magical battle to save their land from the Queen of the Goblins. Not her best fantasy, but enjoyable still.

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Friday, 03 July 2009

Earl, Napping

Earl-in-window1

Wednesday, 01 July 2009

Just Before Dawn . . .

Mama-and-babies1

we had visitors! Mama has been eating here for a few months; the three babies must have just gotten big enough to  bring to the buffet. The third is up on the rail, eating. They're no bigger than small cats, and just as cute . . . but they already have nice sharp teeth, I can see.

Raccoon-closeup

Got anything else good to eat in there? Huh?

3-baby-raccoons1

Then I opened the screen door and went out to refill the bowls, since they had eaten everything in all three . . . Mama scooted off down the steps, but the youngsters decided to wait. And were duly rewarded: Purina Cat Chow, the choice of discriminating raccoons everywhere!

(Ignore the state of my back porch, which is currently serving as a repository for canning jars, mops and buckets, cardboard being saved both as boxes which might be needed to mail something sometime, shoeboxes—does anyone who ever watched Captain Kangaroo throw away a shoebox? I think not—and just pieces that will be handy to start fires with this winter. Also, I tried to get better pictures, but both my little camera and its operator have their limitations; and it was still darkish outside. It didn't help matters, either, that I was lying on the floor taking pictures through the cat door.)

Monday, 29 June 2009

Lunch

Squirrel-feeder-two

Independence Days #9

For Sharon's Independence Days Challenge.

1. plant something: Set out several tomato plants, also pepper plants in pots. Not planted yet, but we have seeds for winter greens—also perennial greens if we can get a place prepared, now that it's quit raining every single day.

2. harvest something: A tomato! I have a couple of pots of patio tomatoes, and one was ripe (and very good, too); several more should be ready this week. Also some tiny grape-ish tomatoes, eaten straight from the plant. Squash—yellow crooknecks, yellow straightneck, zucchini, pattypan, and one that looks like zucchini, but isn't. And cucumbers; regular ones, some lemon cukes, and something else that isn't either, but is very good. (I really must do a better job of saving seed packets . . . ) Mint, oregano. Leeks. Eggs (both chicken and turkey). Catnip.  Garlic scapes, garlic. Parsley, cutting celery. Sour cherries from a friend's tree—bears had been in it, and she wanted the cherries gone before the bears came back and broke all the branches. A few Northland potatoes; the vines were dying back, so we decided to see what was under there . . . and it was good. One lone turnip, apparently the only survivor.

3. preserve something: Dried more oregano, but it's beginning to bloom, so I'll leave the rest to the bees. Canned 8 quarts of sour cherries.

4. reduce waste: The usual: recycling (plastic, cat food cans, milk jugs). WEEDING/feeding to goats and chickens. Continuing to use clothesline (or wooden drying racks) instead of dryer. Sorted through my stash of plastic trays/6-packs/cups and other miscellaneous planting stuff, and managed to salvage almost all for seed starting next year. Saved styrofoam egg cartons someone gave us for more seed starting.

5. preparation and storage: Replenished flour buckets, bought more yeast. Added to food storage: rice, beans, canned tuna. An extra box of cat litter. Extra vitamins. Olive oil. Bought yarn and began making Christmas gifts. (After all, doesn't everyone want a new hat for Christmas? No? Too bad.) Cleaned and reorganized my sewing space (again) in a probably fruitless effort to be more efficient. Purchased a vintage cherry pitter on eBay so we don't have to borrow John's mother's every year. (It's cast aluminum and should outlast us.)

6. build community food systems: Shared summer squash with a friend of John's.

7. eat the food: Bread. Squash fritters (squash from the garden, and onions from the produce stand). Cucumbers, and the lone tomato. Many grape tomatoes while weeding . . . Dirty rice—rice from storage, chicken livers and hearts from freezer (they came from a friend of John's last year), garlic from the garden, and peppers from the local produce stand. Turkey eggs.

Notes: I have a bottle of sunflower oil, and plan to get out early tomorrow to begin picking St. John's wort blooms to infuse. Mulleins are blooming, too, and I need to infuse them in oil with garlic for earaches this winter.

Okra will be blooming soon. Little tomatoes on the vines, and many many squash and cucumbers. Potatoes are going well. We need to get out there and clear space for winter greens, turnips, cabbage and broccoli, and maybe another planting of some odds and ends, just to see what will happen.

Added another small cheap plastic bird feeder to the Cafeteria Tree (as it has become known), and two corn cob feeders for the squirrels . . . I'd really like to have a nice feeder or two, but the last two times we had any, a bear came and destroyed them. Cheap plastic is, in this case, my bear insurance. Also a metal sunflower-and-peanut feeder. (I liked it so well I went back to Lowe's to get another, and they were all gone . . . )  Bought materials (nails and some wood strips; we already have a roll of metal screening—used to periodically replace the back door screens after the cats ruin them) to make a hanging platform feeder to entice cardinals, a "Backyard Birds of the South" book that is easier to find things in than the big bird guide, and a hanging basket (marked down a good bit, thank you very much) to hang on the other side of the hummingbird feeder. I haven't seen any hummingbirds using the feeder; the crocosmias are in full bloom, and those are their first choice. But I like knowing that they have back-up feed. (So do they, apparently; frequently when I'm sitting on the porch crocheting, one will come over, buzz round my head in a companionable fashion, and fly off.) Also, cleaned and repurposed a handle-less steel frying pan (no, I have no idea why we were saving it, other than that we are both hopeless pack rats) as a bird bath down in the rock garden. I've got it up on some rocks until I run across one both on a pedestal and on sale.

I managed to get most of the big pokeweeds out—I always leave a couple outside my workroom window, because I enoy watching the mockingbirds and titmice eat the berries—and they are lying by the path waiting for someone (me, unless I'm very lucky) to haul them to the compost pile. Also did a bunch more weeding, but I'm not getting ahead—only almost-even.

Other than that, not so much. It's been hot, of course, but also terribly humid—I've spent a lot of time sitting in front of the fan, or on the porch when the sun isn't on it. I've gotten some work done on Christmas gifts (doll clothes for Eliza, hats and scarves for others) and some clothes made for the doll I'm dressing for Mom's church bazaar to raffle off, but that's about it.

Today's cooler, less humid, and nice and breezy, so I'm going back out, fill some pots and plant some more things.

Monday, 22 June 2009

Independence Days #8

For Sharon's Independence Days Challenge.

1. plant something: Potted up ginger mint for Mom, then forgot it when we visited. Next time . . . Lemon basil in pots, also regular basil. Umm . . . nothing else, really. It's been raining. And raining. I have more shiso seeds to replant, since it never came up—I think I'll try it in pots this time. Moved a couple more feverfew plants out of the weeds. Found some cleome which has come up in the garlic bed, so I weeded around it. Also, when weeding in the back, discovered several epazote plants.

2. harvest something: Mint, oregano. Leeks. Eggs (both chicken and turkey). Catnip. A few more black raspberries. Garlic scapes. Parsley.One bed of garlic will be ready soon; the tops are beginning to fall over.

3. preserve something: Dried mint and catnip. Started various tinctures and infused oils. Black raspberry sauce.

4. reduce waste: The usual recycling (plastic, cat food cans). WEEDING/feeding to goats and chickens. Continuing to use clothesline (or wooden drying racks) instead of dryer. Used salvaged cardboard boxes to transport young chickens to their new home.  Gathered up several bags of oddments to go to Goodwill.

5. preparation and storage: Added more wooden clothespins (left from tailgate market displays; I'd forgotten about them). Added metal funnels, heavy stainless measuring spoons and cups. Bought a rice cooker! My new favorite kitchen toy . . . small electric appliance, I know, but it has separate settings for white and brown rice, and a vegetable steamer, and is altogether more efficient than my old tiny one. Or so I tell myself. Added more vodka for tinctures.

6. build community food systems: Bartered extra baby chicks for goats milk. Gave my father two loaves of homemade cheese bread for Father's Day. Arranged with Mom to relieve her of some ground ivy next time I'm there. (No, I am not crazy—well, not about this, anyway—ground ivy tincture is supposed to help allergic rhinitis, according to my herbals, and I suffer from it during the winter, so I'm experimenting.)

7. eat the food: Bread. Slaw from local cabbage (not ours, unfortunately; the wet weather did ours in. We shall try again this fall.). Goat liver, pork chops, ground lamb from freezer. Lots of odds and ends from refrigerator . . . every couple of days we've been having rice with whatever bits and pieces I can round up, some soy sauce and garlic and gomasio (I wonder if I could make that myself?).

Notes: John's friend who lets us pick his sour cherries and apples got hit by hail last week, so there will be no sour cherries this year, and if I want homemade applesauce—which of course I do; I only have a dozen jars left—we will have to buy apples from one of the orchards. Fortunately, he still has plenty of lamb and chicken.

Bee balm is blooming: pink in the front flowerbed and red at the edge of the garden. Daylilies, too, in several colors (now that I have figured out the new Photoshop—sort of—and iPhoto, I need to get out with the camera again)—cream with a purple throat, pale yellow with pink ruffled edges, two reds, and the old standby oranges; and a lone purple gladiolus, and Quyeen Anne's Lace and anise hyssop and the little wild St. John's Wort in the jungle that is the back bed. And a chicory plant has materialized in the drive—I have warned John that he is not to back up any further until I get seeds! The rhubarb is holding its own, but is not liking all this water! Got the asparagus bed mostly weeded (damn Spanish needles), leaving several thistles for the goldfinches. Weeded under the grapevine, and found more poison ivy . . . I must go down into the hollow and see about some jewelweed to make poison ivy soap. There are a few more black raspberries, enough to go on cereal (I may splurge at the grocery store this week and buy some Special K or something relatively innocuous; we haven't had any bought cereal in ages and ages), and the blackberries will be ripe soon. There aren't so many as usual; several of the vines succumbed to the drought last year, but there will still be plenty. Tomatoes on the vines, but if we don't get some sun we will be eating green tomatoes . . . bitty summer squash, too, but they also need sun.

We have put the dead spruce tree on the south side to good use (does this count as reducing waste?)—it died last summer during the drought, and we have hung it with a suet feeder, a couple of small bird feeders, a thistle sock, and are planning another feeder or two later this summer (whenever I find some on sale or have more disposable income than at present; possibly after the alternator for my car, and the dentist for both of us, and whatever shows up after that . . . ), and I saw this very cool hanging bird-waterer-bath thingy in some catalog today (both our concrete bird baths are old and cracked with repeated  freezings, and the cats nap in them). . . The side porch is our outdoor living room; I have my tea and John his coffee there in the morning, after we feed the cats and water the plants and throw out some peanuts for the blue jays. The little downy woodpecker comes to the suet on the big feeder (on a post in the yard), the goldfinches come to the thistle sock, the jays steal peanuts out of the blueberry bushes and the rock garden, and the chickadees and titmice come to the little feeders . . . and so does a squirrel or two. They like one of them because they can lift the lid and eat sunflower seeds right out of the top; the birds use the other one. The cardinals don't come around to the side often; they prefer the big feeder in the back. We need a platform feeder on a post for them, I think. And this afternoon one of the chickadees lit briefly on my hanging basket of philodendron, not six feet from where I was sitting (and three cats were sleeping), so I have hung another feeder on an empty hook under the roof. We'll see whether he comes to it.

Yesterday I saw the first hummingbird; he buzzed around my head while I was sitting on the porch crocheting, on his way to investigate the hanging basket of petunias. Today there were two of them . . . they haven't usually come around on the side. The feeder is hanging on the grape arbor, but the grapevines have covered it more than usual, so I think I will attempt to find the unused shepherd's crook I bought a couple of years ago for another feeder, but it was too low and I never used it—I can put it up among the Jerusalem artichokes and hang my hummingbird feeder on it.

Life's pretty good, if a trifle damp t hese days.

Friday, 19 June 2009

Surveying the Territory

Victoria-on-the-roof Victoria, on the roof . . . that triangular hole is just that: a hole up under the roof, where she goes in. She spends the better part of the day napping in the attic. (Though, in these days of 90+ heat, you'd think it would be awfully hot up there . . )

Thursday, 18 June 2009

Front Yard

Speedwell-and-costmary
 or what passes for it . . . speedwell, rose campion, and costmary.

Wednesday, 17 June 2009

Motherwort

Motherwort

Tuesday, 16 June 2009

Apple Mint

Apple-mint2

Monday, 15 June 2009

June is Pagan Values Month

Nurture life. Walk in love and beauty. Trust the knowledge that comes through the body. Speak the truth about conflict, pain, and suffering. Take only what you need. Think about the consequences of your actions for seven generations. Approach the taking of life with great restraint. Practice great generosity. Repair the web.
—Quote from Carol Christ, by way of Sia at Full Circle

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