billie hinton’s camera-obscura:
life and lessons on November Hill Farm
Beautiful butterfly on a beautiful rattlesnake master on a beautiful Sunday.
Sundays are family days with all of us here on the farm. How amazing is it to have all my loved ones close, including the animal family members?
We’re living in difficult times. I believe that people acting without integrity will eventually realize the consequences of their actions, and I believe this goes for all of us.
Find the beauty and let it speak.
I’m sure it is no accident that in this one year anniversary week of the most traumatic event thus far in my life I ended up being given an aquarium via my local buy nothing group. A pathway back to something from my childhood, my dad’s love of aquariums, his caretaking and teaching about the fish I watched endlessly in our living room. We didn’t have a TV at that time and the aquarium and the stereo with my parents’ vinyl albums were both exciting and soothing.
In my life I’ve experienced trauma: the loss of beloved animals, losing a friend to suicide, rape, so many moments during my work in child and family services, including being singly responsible for yelling loudly enough and long enough to make sure children at risk of violence were moved to safety. I’ve sat with children and teens still wearing blood from suicide attempts, gone to homes and been met at the door by gang members pointing guns at me, I have worked on cases so disturbing I would go home at the end of the day and just sit, exhausted, letting the awfulness leave my body before sleep. I’m leaving a few things out here that are deeply personal.
And yet none of these things are the most traumatic. Last year on this day and the three weeks that followed became the worst experience I’ve lived through. I won’t go into it here because it involves people I love dearly. What I want to say is that I feel it in my body. Thankfully it’s manageable because of my understanding of trauma and anniversary events. And because I resumed therapy to do EMDR and other somatic work to address this experience.
We hold things that happen to us in our muscles and our brain and our sensory awareness. There’s a sensation that I can still feel as I type this that came out of what I lived through last year. It’s hard to describe but it’s grainy and there’s a smell and an internal, visceral sensation that I can remember distinctly. As I type this I also hear the bubbling of the aquarium filter and that too carries muscle memory: safety, peace, loving parents, joy.
That the aquarium, with two tetras and colors that I might have chosen myself came to me last week is pure serendipity and synchronicity. It’s also both of those things that when I pulled my daily Woodland Wardens card, it was this:
Keil Bay is still with me. So is my dad. It won’t surprise me at all when my mom shows up in her comforting way.
May we all find our healing with things that hurt us.
On behalf of my herd, including the goddess mare Salina and my first beloved horse Bo-Jinx, who are with me in spirit, and now joined by the amazing Keil Bay, I’m offering the link to a post I wrote in 2010.
It’s getting a lot of hits this week in the archives and everything I wrote then I still believe to be true today.
There are so many ways this expands to current affairs too. We must do better in all our relationships with our animal family, our communities, our regard for one another as human beings, and our mother Earth.
The pollinator beds are very busy right now, with coneflower in full bloom, milkweed awaiting its very hungry caterpillars, and passiflora stretching through the bed and climbing to the sky. I have managed to get some of the smartweed and stilt grass out the past few days and that will continue on through the season, but it’s so good to see things busy right now.
In this same bed the narrow leaf mountain mint is blooming, Stokes asters still going, the aromatic asters are budding, and the prickly horse nettle is coming to its close. Once the blooms are done I will pull it out, with gloves, and clear that space for other plants coming in.
Last week as I removed the smartweed and stilt grass in one section of this bed, I came upon an Eastern box turtle who is undoubtedly awaiting maypop fruit from the passiflora. I’m so happy this turtle has found passiflora’s gift.
Across the driveway the two-level bed is happy in deep pink right now, with the bergamot and the New England asters going strong. The short leaf mountain mint on the upper level is just popping, and while it’s flowers are not as visible here, they are a hotbed of activity, beloved by pollinators. The button bush is nearing bloom time and I’m using my electric weedeater to keep the strip up along the fence clear, as I have plans for that in the fall. I’ve cut the Canadian goldenrod, which is my biggest planting mistake in this bed, three times already, to keep it from completely overpowering the early summer stars. Still to come in this bed are more asters, swamp sunflower, beautyberry, and yes, the goldenrod, which while very aggressive, are also extremely good for pollinators in the fall.
In the potager and back yard we have tomatoes, okra, cucumbers, various greens, peppers, yellow squash, eggplant, blueberries, blackberries, and figs growing. My husband has taken on the potager this year and we’re enjoying the harvest.
Tomorrow is the summer solstice and this year it appears to be the opening to a string of very hot days when horse and pony will be hosed, donkeys will roll in their dust circles, fans will blow, and humans will take a lot of showers. This is summer in NC, and we’ll get through to fall as we always do. I will keep pushing forward with chores and words and hugs from grandkids, with books and a few amazing TV series (if you haven’t watched Pernille on Netflix I highly recommend it), a few good films, maybe some painting inside the house if I can muster myself, and the little signs that let me know, yes, it’s hot right now, but just wait, autumn is coming.
My husband took this photo of the very long black snake in the barnyard this week. Wow! Hopefully this snake is working for us with mouse patrol around the barn and keeping venomous snakes away. Though I wouldn’t mind if he (or she) broadens the territory some, as I encountered what I am almost certain was a copperhead in my upper pollinator bed beside the house on Saturday.
We had many days of rain last week and gray skies, and I finally got out on Saturday with some energy to continue garden bed tasks. I didn’t take any photos but the milkweed is attracting so many bees right now, and also butterflies. A few things in bloom other than the milkweed: butterfly weed, Stokes aster, horse nettle (prickly and frankly annoying but the bees love it so I let them have their pollen), coneflowers, narrow-leafed mountain mint, and New England asters.
What’s coming soon: bee balm, short-leafed mountain mint, and probably some things I missed.
The figwort is coming up really nicely and many other things are thriving and will be in bloom later in the season.
It is a jungle and although I said a few weeks ago that I have officially lost control, I might temper that just a bit to say I am hanging on by a thread, but not ready to give up yet!
The main thing is the smartweed, which is just driving me mad in the pollinator beds. I need to fix my long-handled 4-prong fork, which will make it a lot easier to pull out without disturbing the natives and the insects. And also will allow me to keep some distance from snakes and poison ivy, which, yes, has come into the upper two beds. Ugh.
Our big chainsaw is finally out of the shop, so hopefully one morning this week my husband can bring it into Poplar Folly and cut some fallen branches and one actual dead tree into suitable lengths to line my woodland path. I have made a good start on it and will keep the path clear even as the jungle encroaches down there. A lot of what is coming up back there are natives, so if I can keep the emerging pathway clear and keep the Japanese honeysuckle and stiltweed knocked down, that will be a big step forward. It’s a work in progress but having a clear path will make everything else easier.
The herd is good, the pack is happy, and the curiosity of cats is sassy as usual. We’re all busy and managing the things life tosses in our paths.
I’m managing the loss of my mom pretty well. I burst into tears yesterday because I suddenly really, really missed Keil Bay. I have his bridle in my garret now and when I hold it I can feel his jaws, his ears, his throat and muzzle in my hands.
It’s June. Yesterday morning it was 50 degrees F when I woke up. I wish that were the new normal, but we’re looking at high 80s and low 90s this week, so the NC temperature pendulum is swinging back to summer temps.
