In October, I continued my avoidance of reality reading spree and finished *most* of the rest of the Amelia Peabody series by Elizabeth Peters, except for the very last book (in chronological order; stay tuned) and the one posthumously finished and published book, which I'd found disappointing when I first read it, and real life is disappointing enough, I don't need to read a disappointing book. (They might not be in the correct chronological order in the stack, but rest assured they were read in the proper order.) Interestingly, reading books that I know so well I was even more compelled to get to the resolution of the various plot points than I would be on a cold read--knowing what was coming didn't tune me out; it made me more invested.

I also read/finished a handful of nonfiction titles:
More than Hope: Lessons from the Colorado Trail, edited by Jared Champion. I have an essay in this collection, along with 10 other writers. It was interesting to read about other people's approaches to and experiences on the trail. I especially enjoyed Champion's piece, "Backpacking, Ideally" and "Wild Geese" by Katie Jackson. As well as my own, "Eight Kinds of Joy on the Colorado Trail," natch.

Women in the Field: America's Pioneering Women Naturalists by Marcia Myers Bonta is a collection of mini biographies of 25 women naturalists from the 19th and early 20th centuries, which I've owned a long time but had only ready as far as the introduction. It's a fascination view into the challenges and the triumphs of women finding their way and making their mark in a field dominated by men.

Deranged: Finding a Sense of Place in the Landscape and in the Lifespan, by Jill Sisson Quinn, is a collection of braided essays exploring her childhood landscape of Maryland, her home as an adult in Wisconsin, and what it means to belong to a place. 

Tomorrow evening (November 18, 2025) I'll be a guest on the YouTube channel Outside Comfort Zone, talking with Jared Champion about the book More than Hope: Lessons from the Colorado Trail, which Jared compiled and edited and in which my essay "Eight Kinds of Joy on the Colorado Trail" appears. We'll also chat about writing, art, and adventures. If you want to join us, you can tune in here at 7:30 p.m. eastern time. Hope to see you there!

I don't remember how I stumbled on Amy Stewart's newsletter, It's Good to Be Here. I've been a fan of her Miss Kopp lady detective novels for years, and have enjoyed many of her countless other books about plants, trees, and, forthcoming, birds. So when I did come across her newsletter, I was intrigued. And when I discovered that it was mostly about sketching, with a lot of emphasis on travel sketching, I was sold. A prolific writer of historical crime(ish) novels and books about nature, plus an inveterate traveler and artist? Yes please. (It's like she's living my dream life--or as she might put it, wrote my dream job description.

Her posts include a lot of thoughts on creativity, introduction to other artists' work, and a ton of tutorials on various aspects of painting and sketching, which I enjoy a lot, because they're short and down-to-earth, and she doesn't present only "perfect" works of art--she is happy to share videos of art attempts that don't go exactly as planned, and she has the perfect attitude when that happens: oh well. One of the perks of being a subscriber is that she will occasionally do a painting (and painting tutorial) from a photo sent in by a reader. I recently sent her this photo that I took from the wall of Dubrovnik on our last day in Croatia two years ago:

Here is the painting she did from the photo:

I love how she used red ink plus a very limited color palette. It really conveys the depth of the endless red roofs of the city with the Adriatic Sea in the distance, plus the energy of this ancient city. Her tutorial is here, and here's my attempt at the same:

I used a maroon Micron 0.5 pen, rather than a fountain pen, so I didn't quite get the variation in line, but I think it worked well enough, and I really love how the color is softer and earthier than black ink. I would never have thought of using purple for shadows, and it was liberating for me to sketch in the buildings in a slap-dash fashion, rather than using pencil and neat, straight lines (what in real life is neat and straight anyway? Certainly not a Medieval city!).

Here is the painting I did of a similar view (from a slightly different perspective) in my travel journal:

This was also done from a photo, after the fact (I gave up on drawing/painting onsite after the first couple days of our trip). This image was done in all watercolor over pencil--no ink--with a wet-in-wet technique. I like it fine, but it doesn't have the energy the other one has, the texture of the tile roofs is totally lost, and it took much longer to paint (wet-in-wet takes forever to dry!), so it would be impossible to do in real life. I'm excited to try some on-site sketching using a similar technique, with red ink and a few quick swipes of color.