November Hill farm journal, 72

Things are blooming madly here but in a bizarre turn of weather we’re having highs today in the 30s  along with cold rain and even light snow in some parts of North Carolina. The horses had to come in earlier, but after naps evidenced by shavings all over their backs, Keil and Cody have come back out to snack on dogwood blossoms. I have not seen them do this before so I guess they’re doing their own bizarre thing to match the weather!

I’m having one of those weeks where my head feels like it’s about to explode with the desperate need to do 1001 home, farm, and barn projects. I have my actual plan written down and it is modest and what we need to do next. But instead of focusing on that, I’m on Pinterest and various websites pricing new materials, searching for info, and generally driving myself half mad because truly, I have about 5 years worth of work in my brain this week. 

It’s cold and rainy, I have a cold, and there are literally hundreds of books I want to read sitting in the house in stacks and lined up on my Kindle, but I am too wired to sit down and relax with one of them. Spring fever? A mild mania? I’m not sure, but I hope it passes quickly. 

By the weekend we will have temps in the 80s and maybe that will slow my brain. 

Home, Cleveland, Home Again

Wednesday was one of those perfect early spring days on November Hill, with horses, donkeys, pony,  dogs, and cats enjoying the sunshine and the very nice weather. The porch is a favorite spot and Clem loves it along with the rest of us.

Speaking of porches, I finally got a preliminary estimate for adding the same size porch to the back of our house, replacing the deck, and it’s so much less than what we expected I think it is actually going to be doable pretty soon. It will be so nice having covered relaxing space on the back side of our home.

Wednesday evening my daughter and I flew to Cleveland where she presented her lemur research at the American Association of Physical Anthropologists. It was a fun trip among a great group of dedicated scientists.

As usual, it’s good to be home again. Clementine is growing like a weed, the redbuds have popped, and dogwoods are close to blooming as well. My son and daughter-in-law arrive in a couple of days for a nice spring break visit so the house will be full and I’ll be a happy, happy mom.

Synchronicity and the writing life

I stopped by NCSU’s Gregg Museum today and was charmed to see that all three of their current exhibits held special meaning for me.

“Borderlands” is a poignant set of large photographs and actual items collected by the artist along the US/Mexico border. Clothing, personal articles, pathways through trees and signs of river crossings. The writing project next in line is intimately connected with the border and border crossings and I was stunned to see the artist’s documentation of what is happening there.

“Explorations” is a found object sculptor’s use of seismograph “bowls” she purchased at a government surplus outlet. She has created a way to connect them to the USGS earthquake site and as you’re standing there small arms using golf balls as striking instruments sound the bowls to mark real time seismic activity. There’s also a meter showing your footsteps and the “mark” you’re making on the earth as you walk through the exhibit. Yesterday I was editing a novel chapter titled “Little Earthquakes” and today I was listening to the sounds marking little earthquakes happening around the world.

The third exhibit was called “Liberty” and showcased NC visionary folk artists, which is a special interest of mine. I have several pieces by NC artists working in this genre and I adore the Wilmington, NC artist Minnie Evans, who had work hanging today. What a treat!

The writing life is sometimes difficult because it involves a certain amount of what an old writer friend calls “ass in chair.” But it also has its mystical moments, and today was a treasure chest of them!

The final synchronicity: when I went to the bathroom and washed my hands as I left, I tossed some soap suds onto the counter by accident. Check it out.

November Hill farm journal, 71

We’ve been busy here, and I haven’t had time to write. But we’ve bumped out of the extreme rain mode we were in and are starting to dry out some, which is a good thing. The pollinator beds are all cleared of last year’s growth and everything is coming back, which is so inspiring to see. My farm helper dug out the invasive, non-native roses that were a problem last spring and summer, and cut back the overwhelming butterfly bushes. I couldn’t bring myself to take them out but they were seriously overshading some natives, so they remain, but are under tight control.

A sad event that must be noted: Ciro was returned to his trainer. He is such a great dog, but he was having issues with spooking on leash and also a hyperalertness in every setting but riding in the back seat of our car. We felt the life he would lead with us would be hard for him and one of the jobs we needed him to do was not going to be possible with the spooking. His trainers came to get him and he was overjoyed to see them, so while it was heartbreaking, we are glad he was happy to go back to a more familiar setting where he can relax.

Meanwhile, more research and hard decisions yielded this:

Her name is Clementine (we call her Clem) and she is here and already quite settled in and beginning her training to be a service dog. She is bold, confident, calm, and so sweet. The Corgi boys love her and she loves them back. She comes from a long and strong line of service dogs and we’re happy to welcome her into our family. 

Yesterday ended with a Corgi romp and one of the most gorgeous sunsets I’ve seen in awhile. The herd enjoyed it from the back field and the setting sun put on a show behind them. Talk about living in the light. Keil Bay was of course right in the center of that.

On my way up the path I stopped several times to celebrate this amazing end to the day. 

Puppies, illuminated Bay, sunsets that blaze the skies, all these are remedies for the hard stuff in life. 

Recreating the writing space...

AKA when you need a writing retreat but can’t travel.

That’s where I’ve been the past few weeks. I just had a writing retreat in February and it was wonderful, productive, and both grounding and exhilarating creatively.

Back home, we’ve had rain, and mud, and mud, and rain, and now cold weather and wind. There are too many things on my to do list and getting to the writing time has been hard.

I needed a getaway, a place to do the deep work that I’ve committed to this year, but the garret was a mess. I craved space to spread things out, a room where I can close the door if I want to and leave things sitting. The garret had litter boxes in it, so I couldn’t close it off, but then the kittens started using the bathroom outside the litter boxes and I needed to shake that up to stop it. The litter boxes were moved and the garret door closed until further notice.

Something about seeing the door closed tipped a domino and I went on a wild purging rampage last weekend. I cleared and cleaned, cleaned and cleared. Got ideas, abandoned them. Looked at expensive Pottery Barn desks, shopped in my basement storage room. Moved furniture, got rid of furniture.

Went through every single piece of paper in the room. Sent a feed bag’s worth out the door.

This is what is left.

This wasn’t anywhere on my to do list, but it had to be done to get me writing again.

See the skinny thing hanging on the wall behind my iPad? That’s a storyteller, created by a local artist I love. She’s the guardian of writing time. 

The sun hits the window in the morning and the golden hour illuminates the crow forest outside the window in the late afternoon. And of course there are cats. 

My grandma’s old sewing machine is still in the room for little excursions to the past when a drawer full of buttons and threads of every color mesmerized me.

There are still four large piles of papers that need sorting and filing but guess what? I resubmitted a story today, I edited the novel for over an hour, and I did research on where to submit several other stories and essays awaiting attention. I think the tempest in the teapot has been set free.