Every once in a while something magical happens and I create a doll that speaks to me, like this mermaid I have named Ghislaine. I keep a doll like her for myself as proof that this magic can happen, and as a model and inspiration for future creations.

Today I am working with bags full of fleece, “three bags full” and more, and a perspiry task it is, stuffing the bulky bags back on the top shelf, after choosing a handful to wash and pull apart gently sideways to see what kind of doll wig it might make.

This morning I spent time out in the gardens, pulling out overgrown borage to make room for what I think may be pumpkin vines that need more space. In the back woods, hidden under jewelweed, large juicy blackberries are ready to eat.  I picked a bouquet of poppies, queen anne’s lace, radish blossoms, and mint.

I’m watching the tides, waiting for a high tide so that I can  photograph Fort Popham reflected in a pool. Maybe tomorrow morning around eight o-clock I will take a trip to the coast with my camera.

I wonder how the President and his family liked Acadia National Park this past weekend.  What a wonderful move my family  made, deciding to live in Maine, a short distance away from the coast.

Now I return to a bevy of mermaids who are  awaiting net veils and shells and other bits of glamour.