Friday, February 6, 2026
Well, a random sampling of wildlife—it’s spring (well, desert spring…) and everyone is out enjoying the beautiful weather!
These are not good photos—the coyote shots were taken one-handed, while being dragged down the street by an enthused Large Dachshund eager to make the acquaintance of said coyote—and I saw the young road runner darting (in fits and starts) across the road as I was heading for the vet’s this afternoon, to pick up the aforementioned Large Dachshund from her grooming appointment.
I stopped the car, some way back in order not to scare him/her into the bushes, and s/he did stop on the curb to look things over from a convenient rock perch—but it was a veeeeery long shot.
The Aforementioned Dachshund is much easier to photograph (see below), as she espouses the Newtonian theorem that an object at rest tends to remain at rest…
Lucy’s assistance was not needed for the photo at left, which—as many of you will instantly recognize—is an owl pellet (the digestive product of a Great Horned Owl (they hang out in the eucalyptus trees in the Back Forty) that I picked up earlier this week. It’s quite a good one, as it contains a lot of easily recognizable bones—can you tell whether they belong to a small bird, or a small rodent? <g>
Even if you can’t, I hope you enjoy the following….
This excerpt really has nothing to do with wildlife, beyond the doves on Minnie’s hat (you know, an adult road runner would make a killer hat decoration…), but just for General Interest….
EXCERPT from A BLESSING FOR A WARRIOR GOING OUT
Copyright © 2026 Diana Gabaldon
[Author’s Note – in the 18th century, a “canape” (with accent over the “e”) was not an hors d’oeuvre, but an item of parlor furniture—a small couch.]
“Tea, please,” Minnie said to the woman who had rushed into the hall as she made her way down it, escorting the taller Viscountess. Like a tug guiding an Indiaman into dock, she thought. “Hot, and with a lot of sugar, if you have any. If not, honey will do. Oh—and what is your name, please?”
“Moira O’Meara,” the cook—for plainly she was the cook, Rafe had not been misled by her apron—said. Her face was ruddy, but bore a wary expression. “You…er….”
“Minerva, the Duchess of Pardloe,” Minnie said, nodding her hat as graciously as the circumstances allowed. “This young woman is going to vomit or faint in the next minute or two. Isn’t there a fainting couch in this place? Or at least a bloody ottoman?”
Thus chivvied, Mrs. O’Meara rose to the occasion and seized the Viscountess’s other arm, then led the troika of women into a small but beautifully furnished sitting room, which contained—thank God, the woman weighed as much as a hogshead of tobacco, or at least felt like it—a very elegant canapè, with gorgeously carved ebony legs and upholstery in heavy black satin with gold-thread embroidery.
Minnie felt alarm on behalf of the upholstery; the Viscountess was heaving gently, hand over her mouth, but it was either the settee or the floor, so she maneuvered the Viscountess onto the canapè, pushed her head unceremoniously down between her knees and said, “Don’t vomit, at least not until I’ve found a towel. Bring a towel!” she shouted toward the open doorway, through which Mrs. O’Meara had vanished, with luck intending to make tea.
Minnie glanced round, but the room appeared to have nothing whatever apropos to her purpose, and with a sigh, she reached through her pocket-slit, untied one of her petticoats, and stepping out of it, shoved it—just in time—under the Viscountess’s chin.
Matters after that were somewhat chaotic, but a quarter of an hour later, Minnie found herself in possession of a proper tea-table on wheels, this equipped with a steaming pot of tea—proper China tea, at that!—with milk, sugar and honey and buttered toast to go along. Two small covered serving dishes discreetly announced the presence of fried sardines and buttered mushrooms. The Viscountess caught a whiff and turned green.
“I’d love a nice fried sardine myself,” Minnie said ingratiatingly to Mrs. O’Meara. “But I’m afraid this young woman….”
“God between us and evil,” the cook said, and seizing the dish in one hand and crossing herself with the other, bore the offending sardines back to the kitchen.
“Oh, Lord.” Minnie took a bite of toast with honey and sighed with bliss. “I haven’t had anything but Naples biscuit and porridge for the last month, I swear. Have you had any breakfast, my dear?”
Amaranthus—the name had finally come back to her—shook her head, looking curdled.
“I couldn’t,”, she said faintly. “That—” she waved a limp hand at the remaining serving dish. “Could you—”
“Of course!” Minnie leapt to her feet and seized the mushrooms—smelling earthy and succulent, but unfortunately looking limp and slimy with butter—taking them out into the hall and depositing them on the reception table, among a number of calling-cards, which she took a moment to peruse before going back to the parlor.
“I really can’t eat comfortably in a hat, can you?” she asked chattily, pulling the long pins from her stylish chapeau and placing it on the tea table. “Do pardon my appearance; I’ve just walked off a ship.”
The young woman stared at the stuffed doves and swallowed, but didn’t say anything. Minnie sighed internally; evidently she was going to have to carry on this conversation by herself.
“How far along are you?” she asked brightly, pointing the remains of her slice of toast at Amaranthus’s mid-section. “About four months?”
Please visit my official webpage for A BLESSING FOR A WARRIOR GOING OUT (Book Ten of my Outlander series of major novels) to access more excerpts from this book, and information about it.
All photos on this webpage were taken and are copyright © by me, Diana Gabaldon.
On Friday, February 6, 2026, this excerpt was also posted on my official Facebook page.