An Upcoming Anniversary: the Big Handsome Bay

 I didn’t realize when I last posted that this is October, the one-year anniversary month of Keil Bay’s passing. It hit me later that day, after I put up the photo of him and felt him close. His passing was on October 24th, and I am sure I’ll mark the day with another writing, but the memories from his passing and even more from his life with me are very close and strong right now. 

The idea that it has been an entire year since he passed seems wrong somehow. It feels in my mind and in my body and in my heart like it was only a couple of months ago. 

I took this photo a few days ago of one of my favorite autumn plantings in the native pollinator bed closest to the barn. The night Keil Bay passed, my husband gathered these flowers and laid them over the Big Bay, and I don’t think I’ll ever look at this combination of colors and textures again without seeing them on his gorgeous red bay coat. 

His spirit has been with me this entire year, for months and months he was always close, and gradually through the year he sometimes seems further away, like maybe he’s off with good friends: Brio, Maverick, Lily, Salina, and more I do not know. I have summoned him to help me during hard times this late spring and summer, and he’s been right there. 

Often he and Salina are on either side of me, brilliant black and red bay guardians, and now I smile rather than cry when I feel their presence. 

It’s notable to me that although I talk to both Keil and Salina at their gravesites, I mostly feel their spirits up high or on either side of me. They are not resting so much as they are moving with me, and moving in open air and open spaces. It’s the rippling of muscle I remember most, the feel of movement beneath the saddle, the tossing of heads and curving of powerful necks as they shift into their big trots, as they coil to burst forward into gallops. 

October is one of my two favorite months of the year, the opening to my favorite season. Keil’s passing during October was one of the hardest losses of my life, but remembering him, even remembering the occasion of his final breath, is one of the clearest feelings of love I have ever had. 

I know some of you reading here get this because of your own equine friends. I know some might wonder how this could be such a milestone. I don’t really know how to express it other than what I’ve said. Though there is a tribute I wrote to Keil Bay shortly after he passed that is out on submission right now and when it gets accepted somewhere and published, I’ll share it. It’s magical and it captures everything I felt about that night. When I read it to myself I feel the magic of Keil Bay woven into each line. 

Meanwhile, OCTOBER. I am celebrating the beauty of this very special month. 

November Hill farm journal, 223

 The farm is halfway between jungle and autumn these days, but with the weather we’ve had it almost feels like we’re in a holding pattern moving into true fall season. We are not in the area of NC that Helene ravaged through; we got rain and wind and one 15-minute period of what looked like tornado conditions, but thankfully there was no damage. Sadly a good friend in Nash County experienced an actual tornado touching down near her home and I believe 16 people were injured and many businesses were struck down. 

Of course this brings me to western NC which is in our hearts always but especially right now, as so many people there are living with true disaster. My son attended and graduated from UNC-Asheville, we have property in Haywood and Madison counties, and so many of my vacations over the years have taken place in the beautiful western part of my state. We did not sustain much damage on our property there and all the people I know personally who live there are safe. The photos and video I’ve seen are heartbreaking. 

The worst things we’ve experienced in the past week is a washing machine that wouldn’t drain, water under one garage door, and a very strong smell of something decaying in the woods adjacent to our farm. My husband fixed the washing machine, I used fans and some sunshine to dry the garage floor, and a wake of black vultures managed the very potent smell. I am grateful for small problems and quick resolutions. 

Today I’m celebrating a couple of things. 

My essay “She Wants To Swim With Narwhals,” which you can read HERE, has been nominated for the Best of the Net anthology. It’s a huge honor for me and I’m so happy the editors felt it worthy of their nomination. 

I’m also celebrating Keil Bay, who remains with me strong in spirit and support, and who I am thinking of today actually without any tears coming, which I think may be the very first time this has happened since his passing. I scrolled back to find a photo and this one really spoke to me today and made me smile so big my cheeks hurt a little. 

He was and is a saint-king and I miss this kind of Keil Bayness greeting me in the barn. 

I see him galloping right now and kicking up his heels in response. 

The swamp sunflowers are magnificent outside as are the asters and the beauty berry and the possum haw. I am happy for fall, and ready for pumpkins and a little decorative fun, including our annual “graveyard cake.” 

Hope all are safe and if anyone reading here is struggling, I send light and love your way. 

November Hill farm journal, 222

 Happy fall equinox! I am always in highest spirits when this day rolls around again, but this year it’s almost a life changing event to move into this new and my favorite season. Even if the temps are going to mid-80s, even if I have a hundred things to get done on the farm right now, it’s a turning and I’m happy. 

This week I saw a double rainbow that held a lot of meaning for me too, and I’m grateful for that as well. 

I was already stopped to turn so I had the perfect chance to photograph it. 

On the farm: the deciduous trees are starting to look like they’re considering dropping some leaves. The lush green of summer is fading a bit and the dogwoods are already turning colors. The fall flowers (asters, goldenrod, NY ironweed, mistflower) are blooming, and we have a huge crop of maypops along the front porch this year. 

Apache is one more month healthy, the herd is happy, and the cats and dogs are doing well. 

I have returned to an older writing project after a creative brainstorm at Weymouth and will be doing a final edit of a trilogy that I’ve now condensed into one longer novel. This one has a TV pilot episode all but finished and I’d like to move these out as I move into fall. 

I have a couple of short pieces out on submission and that feels good too.

There’s a breeze blowing over the farm, I’m washing the next-to-last horse blanket today, and other than that my only plan is to relax. 

Welcome, autumn! 

Thank You, Weymouth!

 I am so grateful I had a few days/nights at Weymouth Center For The Arts And Humanities as a writer-in-residence last week. It’s been an intense time here this spring and summer with family matters that have taken up so much space in our lives there was not much room for creative work. 

One of my trilogies is now a single hefty novel with a TV pilot episode to boot, and this is only possible because of a few days of retreat time in which I was able to work and enjoy the support of a long-time writing friend while doing so. 

And Weymouth got a new writer’s kitchen! It’s lovely. Every wall looks different but the stove and vent hood is super nice with the tile backsplash. 

So happy for the time and I am definitely feeling renewed with creative energy. 

Our Fig Tree

 

Our son planted this fig tree close to 20 years ago. It was a tiny tree that has taken root and thrived. The past few years it’s been growing huge numbers of very large figs that are feeding our family, offering joy to parents, son, and now my son’s own children. It’s been a true blessing this summer and now on into fall, as we continue to pick the fruit and enjoy the time together as we share this harvest. 

The fig tree symbolizes strength, resilience, power, protection, and longevity. 

All these things have special meaning in our family right now and I’m so grateful to this beautiful tree for providing them for us. 

As I look at the photo, behind and to the left, I see a sunny clearing. I didn’t notice it as I took the photo, but in this moment I realize it’s Keil Bay’s gravesite, with Salina buried just past him. 

Of course Keil Bay and Salina were both strong personalities, loving friends to my family, powerful, protective, and long-lived in body and eternally in spirit. 

We are surrounded by this energy here on November Hill and I feel it every single day.