November Hill farm journal, 237

 

Walking along the wood’s edge recently I noticed these three pinecones in this exact position. Did they fall that way? Did a squirrel position them? I don’t know, but the symmetry caught my eye and made me smile. I view three as a sacred number and I loved this moment of noticing. 

A few more moments since I last posted:

Grandchildren harvesting figs and the last of the blueberries with their grandpa.

A painted pony trotting like a show pony up the grass paddock hill for breakfast.

Two little donkeys lining up for grooming. 

Wild muscadines ripening right over Keil Bay’s gravesite. 

Tidying up the farm some with mowing and trimming. 

Honeybees coming up the hill from Arcadia to drink from the base of the water hydrant, for the minerals in the earth, I think, since they have fresh water available in their apiary.

The dream I had of galloping on Keil Bay, all over the world, just the two of us checking things out at high speed. 

Clean sheets after a long day. 

The farm is doing its late summer thing right now. I put up the firefly habitat sign with my husband’s help yesterday, we switched the gate wreaths from summer to fall, and though it still feels like we’re living in a jungle, there are signs that autumn is very close. Some cool nights, less warm days, dogwoods changing color. 

May we all find joy in this turning of the season. 

Oh my gosh, this is my dream come true…

 

Say something, do something

“My philosophy is very simple,” Representative Lewis once told an audience. “When you see something that is not right, not fair, not just, say something! Do something! Get in trouble, good trouble, necessary trouble.”

November Hill farm journal, 236

 

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. 

An anniversary of trauma + an aquarium

 

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.