In no particular order:
ett:
I’m thankful that I noticed the cat who walked in my house through the open patio doors, had a good look around the living room (cat hair on the sofa), and then walked by me like it owned the place, brushed against my leg (which until then I hadn’t realised there was a cat in my house), meowed, and laid itself down by my feet. I firmly told it that I didn’t want a cat, and that at my age life should never imitate fiction.
två:
Clark’s TToT (last week’s grat #8 for the word creacioun,) which reminded me how fun Old English (obsolete dialect) can be. My husband, Peder, after insulting my poppy painting, made me a lovely sliddery dessert with mandarin oranges and sliced banana.
Sliddery comes from the Old English asliderian and slyddrie (Harry Potter: sound familiar?) (obs 1250) last seen in the 1567 reprint in Quam Bonus Deus Israell. Psal. lxxiij. So the next time you slide across the icy patio, you can say, “Well, that was bloody sliddery!”. It’s almost like inventing new words!
tre:
Thankful for my little 1.4L slow cooker that’s suitable for small meals. Fill it up with meat and veg, walk away, come back 6-hours later, and dinner has turned into beef stew. It’s like magic.
fyra:
… that Amazon found my order — and then lost it again on the same day. This is what happens when you look at something too long; it turns into something else, like someone’s lost keys. Or one sock with a hole. Quantum physics at work. Thanks, Max Planck. And you, too, Erwin Schrödinger.
fyra:
Crushed watercolour tablets mixed with gum arabic on 640 gsm black paper. “It was worth trying,” (smiled my husband —he wasn’t enthusiastic, but he smiled as he said it). It was probably the wrong paint for this paper. Or the wrong paper. Or subject matter. But the cinnamon blew back in my face on this one. However …
I am not painting to be ‘good.’ I am painting to set fire to an old silence in me, and I’m thankful for recognising that.
I still believe that every mistake is an invention.
sex:
A 2-hour deluge that refilled the water butts, and will give the lawn a much needed drink. Maybe enough to green-up the grass again; we never waste precious water on the lawn. It always recovers to a lush green when the rain returns and temperatures drop to normal after summer.
After a few days of rain, the flowers set new blossoms, and the sunflowers shot up 6″ and burst into bloom.
sju:
Thankful for Denise’s Six Sentence Story challenge, and the weekly effort she puts into it. My episode for the week is here.
åtta:
Who ever invented lists — thank you. I’m making lists of everything I need to pack: one small bag of necessaries for Reims France and Osnabrück Germany; another bag with clothes and stuff for Århus, and København Denmark; another bag (bigger) for warmer clothes in Sweden. Two weeks away, visiting family — alive & dead. Still Life will go dark until I return. Probably.
nio:
Thankful for a garden centre with a restaurant that serves all day breakfast. Oh, yes, and we also bought some “Busy Lizzie” plants for the pots — autumn colour.
Cosmos. Self-seeded. Anything that self-seeds and survives, has earned its place in my garden.
tio:
Gabriel Lewis and Ghosts of the Rail (music video below) Thankful for finishing a playlist to cover the daily drive from the UK up North.
Welcome to TToT (Ten Things of Thankful) blog hop! Join bloggers from all over the world as we come together to share those things that we are thankful for. Ten is in the name, but no one is counting; feel free to link up no matter how many (or few) you can list. Make sure to go read and comment on the posts, too. The TToT has always been big on making this a friendly community, and getting to know each other through posts and comments is a huge part of that. We’re thankful for you!
Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2025.
It's Still Life 
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