November Hill farm journal, 238

 

Up at Stillwater the Monarchs are enjoying the yellow crownbeard. It was a wonderful time up there with family and I was grateful to be there, for the land itself, and for all the wildlife the land supports. 

Also grateful for the swamp sunflowers here on November Hill that had bloomed when I got home. 

Life is good, but busy. My aquarium needed a large water change when I got home so that was the first thing I took care of. Then on to some tidying and ongoing cleaning tasks, back to my client schedule, and moving forward with the punch list:

Subaru for maintenance - check + ouch as it needed a repair we didn’t expect.

Clem to vet for annual wellness exam - yay, we got urine sample before she and I headed to the vet! But alas, the golden girl cried and howled and became so distressed, even on Tramadol, that we turned back home and rescheduled when there are two of us humans to take her. 

Equine vet here for annual check-ups - check. And amazing behavior by Little Man, who has always disliked shots and blood draws, but does so even more after his stay at the vet school last year. However, he stood like a champ and carefully shook his head a few times to release his tension during his exam and blood draw and rabies shot. I was super proud of him. Rafer did very well as usual, and Redford excelled, even with his shy demeanor and sometimes skittish response to all things not the norm for him. He too stood like a champ. Cody was great, and then we were done. 

We’ve had some help again to do some of the farm/land chores we haven’t gotten to, and that has been wonderful. Branches stacked, one dead tree cut and stacked, mowing, some weed-eating. Next is the arena, which needs tidying. 

October and November and December are my favorite months and here we are. I’m writing and editing and reading and soaking in all the joys of home and family. The world is not well and I’m doing what I can to help in small ways with that whole mess. 

I had many wild muscadines this year, most of them from the vines closest to Salina and Keil Bay’s graves, and I ate them with love, and felt the love of those two horses who have been major influences on my life over the years. They remain with me in spirit. The wild grapes reminded me of my favorite poem of autumn.

The Wild Geese

Horseback on Sunday morning,
harvest over, we taste persimmon
and wild grape, sharp sweet
of summer's end. In time's maze 
over fall fields, we name names
that went west from here, names
that rest on graves. We open
a persimmon seed to find the tree
that stands in promise,
pale, in the seed's marrow.
Geese appear high over us,
pass, and the sky closes. Abandon,
as in love or sleep, holds
them to their way, clear,
in the ancient faith: what we need
is here. And we pray, not
for new earth or heaven, but to be
quiet in heart, and in eye
clear. What we need is here.

-Wendell Berry