Thoughts on the creative process, and something beautiful.

 Back in the fall I found someone whose work reminded me, in a loose way, of the kind of farm sign I’ve been wanting for 15 years. The first couple of years we lived here, my husband took photos from the front and one November he captured what is for me the essence of our farm and why we named it November Hill. I’ve tried to explain what I wanted to various artists and sign makers since then, but no one seemed to get what I was imagining, and so I just waited.

Based on the portfolio of this artist, who specializes in home paintings and does some signs, I felt like she could do what I wanted, if only I could explain it properly to her.

I sent her the photo and a few images harvested from Pinterest of various farm signs, showing her the way I want to hang it, the style (such a nebulous concept) of the overall effect I was seeking, and she and I went back and forth for a few weeks about colors and fonts and sizes and when we had a basic sense of what she would do, I paid her half and she promised to get to work. 

Thanksgiving came and went. I sent her an email promising I wasn’t rushing her but just checking in. She said she was working on it but was behind due to a large number of orders. 

Christmas came and went. She said she was still struggling to get caught up with orders and assured me she would get the sign done by the end of the year. I need to say that I had no concern at all about her actually doing the work and getting it to me. She has many good reviews from happy customers. But I was getting a sense, mostly just a faint feeling, that she was struggling not with having too many projects, but with my project in particular.

I had built up the idea when I described it to her. Explained how much I wanted this specific look, that I had been searching for the right artist for years. I think I transmitted my own vision so perfectly it locked her into something that became a huge constraint. She so clearly wanted to give me what I was asking for. 

When the new year came and we were well into January, I checked in again. She apologized profusely and I told her there was no rush, no pressure, that I simply couldn’t wait to see it and that I would be happy to wait because I felt like she was the person to do it, and if it took months more, that was okay. 

I promised myself I would leave her alone and not check in again. 

Today, I got a message from her saying it was finally done. She sent a photo. And I can’t explain how, but I could feel her tentative fear - what if I didn’t like it. What if I hated it. What if I had waited this long and hated it. Possibly the worst scenario - what if I said something mediocre, like, okay, thanks, that looks fine.

I know she wanted me to love it and I know I wanted to love it. I opened the attached photo and thankfully, it blew me away. I cried. I’m so happy with the result - it’s exactly as I had imagined it, and I wrote back more than I’ve written here in this post telling her just how much I love it.

She confessed that she was terrified to start the project. That she got my vision from the start, but wasn’t sure she could bring it out of her paint brush onto the wood. Isn’t this how we all feel with writing, painting, creating? We have that idea, it’s so clear in our minds. But to bring it to fruition in whatever artistic medium we work in is always the tricky part. The hard part. Sometimes not even possible. 

I’m so happy she did it. I think I’d have appreciated her efforts even if they had not quite matched what I hoped for, but sometimes these things work out perfectly and she’s sending it tomorrow. I just cannot WAIT to hang it up and see it every time I drive through our farm gates. 

I’m not sure what the moral of this story is. Look for what you want, go with your gut, be patient, and when you get what you hoped for, savor the heck out of it. I’m sharing her photo and will of course share it in its new location soon.

November Hill farm journal, 119

 Well, another week, several more days of rainfall. I am grateful we’re not in drought but now we’re in tropical rainforest territory, though cold. The horses have to have their sheets on as I do not want Keil Bay getting chilled, and they are all weary of mushy ground. Thankfully the sun came out this afternoon and it looks like sun tomorrow, then I see rain on the forecast several more days this week.

I’m seriously thinking we need to cover our arena - not enclose it, but have a nice cover that lets us see through it from the house to the back. The idea of huge equipment back there totally freaks me out though.

Meanwhile, we’re making some progress getting stone put in to the stormwater creek bed in the front field. We’ll leave large gap areas in the flat spaces for the horses go to through, but the sections that are deep/steep are getting stone, and then in the fenced off bird habitat area we’ll do more extensive stonework, as that’s an area where water tends to pool out. If I can get some research done I’d love to put in a small water feature for birds and frogs. 

The barn roof repair was completed nicely and now we’re awaiting shingles that are on order so the house can get its new roof. The deck in back is next, though I keep shifting my plans for what we’ll do with it.

I’m worried about the two bee hives, Hegemone and Artemis. I peeked at them on admittedly a colder than they like day and the upper boxes were super empty looking from above. I hope they were in cluster below. One hopeful sign - Hegemone girls have propolised their bottom entrance hole (about the size of a half dollar) so that it’s now a bee-sized hole only. As I noticed this and leaned down to check it out, amazed, one of the girls came to the hole and peeked back at me! 

Keeping my fingers crossed they make it through the winter. They have sugar patties available to them and have been taking that thus far.

I’m about halfway through my Taxonomy and Winter Flora native plant studies classes and am enjoying being active in that program again. Mostly on Zoom, though we have met for winter garden walks with everyone masked and distanced. 

This weekend past was both a friend’s book launch party via Crowdcast and my monthly writing retreat via Zoom, so it’s been busy here!

This week we have an arborist coming to assess the large oaks around the barn and house, as well as the two hickory trees in our back yard. All of them are beginning to grow toward house or barn and need to be pruned, and I’d like someone to do it with an eye toward the health of the trees at the same time. I’m very interested to see this work done once we get it scheduled.

Keil has had a number of slightly off days but looked really good today, so I hope we’re back to some normal weeks again. He had chiro here last week and had a minor pelvic adjustment but was mostly clear, which is terrific. And although he is done with his 5 p.m. medication buckets, he now gets 5 p.m. extra pellet buckets because I knew he’d be upset if we just stopped. He’s 31. He can use the calories. He can use the pampering. And he loves it. 

That’s about it! Hope all are hanging in there through this wintry month (for some of us much more so than others, and I’m not complaining about anything but the rain here!).

            

It’s A Dog’s Life on November Hill

 

November Hill farm journal, 118

 We’re in a cold snap this week, highs in the upper 30s, lows in the low 20s, and we also had a dusting of snow (after a night of near-solid cold rain) so are back to square one with the mud factor. We’ve had horses in blankets for 2 days straight now, somewhat unusual for us, but I don’t want Keil Bay getting cold. He’s doing well for the most part.

In spite of the cold and the ongoing wetness, the time came this week to move on with some of the postponed repairs at the barn. The roof repairs were done yesterday, and will be finished up on Monday. It’s a relief to have that mostly done. Next is rebuilding one of the interior stall doors, bringing in some footing for the two shelters, and doing something with the barn aisle - either packed stone screenings with mats on top or ??? - it’s time. Depending on how easily that goes we may do some work on the feed room as well. 

My farm helper has been doing some pruning of the giant butterfly bush and the hollies in front of our porch, to get a jump on that before they start growing like mad as spring sets in. He also worked on creating a hugelkultur berm where an old and dead tree tipped over in the side strip, which happened to fall in a way that will be a great place to do the berm and create a storm water break over there. 

Next up, though, is a new roof on the house, which is still sitting under the original roof that was put on 25 years ago. We’re moving to a metal roof and I’ll be relieved when it’s over and done with! Then the back deck is up for replacement. These two things will be both invasive and difficult to live with if they go on for longer than a day, which I guess I need to steel myself that they will. There are days when I feel like it would be easier to buy a new farm than manage this one! 

Inside, we’ve moved the old sofa on to Habitat, and the new one is here and ready to be installed today. I’m enjoying the sofette and now the little ottoman I got to go with it. The dogs are not amused that their big sofa is gone and for now there’s just the floor along that wall! 

One thing I’ve made sure to do with these new sofas is get very lightweight throws for ease of washing and drying. The quilt I had on the large sofa was king-sized and very heavy, and with three dogs who have access to a back yard 24/7, I had to wash it at least once a week. The new one is super light and will be very easy to toss in the wash and will dry quickly.

I may have gone overboard with the size of the throw pillows I ordered - they’re great, but take up a lot of room on the sofette. Thinking of some kind of dedicated throw pillow caddy where they can be used when needed but put aside when not. 

This week’s weather has made me decide I’m officially ready for spring. Not that I can summon it in any way but I’m ready for slightly warmer temperatures again. 

In other news, I reembarked on Julia Cameron’s 12-week Artist’s Way exercises last week. I’m happy to bring some structure into creative efforts and routine, and also eager to move into her new book once I complete this 12 weeks of work.

Almost February! Hoping we get a bit warmer weather moving forward and that the vaccine for Covid gains a lot of ground in terms of being out there for everyone to access. I’m happy to see the efforts being put to that task. 

Book Review: The Part That Burns, a memoir by Jeannine Ouellette

 

Jeannine Ouellette’s memoir in fragments, The Part That Burns, reads like a shattered mirror that the author reassembles as you go, pulled forward by writing that’s precise and beautiful both in its parts and as a whole.

Often when I read I mark sentences that shine, soar, stop me in my tracks with their potency. A good book usually has a handful, a great book more than that. This book has so many it’s hard to pull them out. I searched for a line or two that I might share here, but find myself highlighting entire paragraphs. Beyond this, the fragmented structure Ouellette employs to tell this story is itself masterful and compelling. 

Ouellette spans the time between her own childhood and motherhood, sharing potent memories of herself as child, daughter, mother, and the places in between, as well as the intersections between all these selves. I think again of mirrors, the ones in the fun house at the fair, where you see many reflections from many angles, some distortions of who we are, some closer to reality, but all real in that place in time, from our perspective as we look at what we see in the panels around us.

Make no mistake: this narrator’s voice is clear and true, and you’ll want to know where she goes next. You’ll hold your breath at times, and you’ll pull for her to reach her destinations safely.

A story of childhood sexual abuse, a story of a girl who journeys and survives, eventually thrives, this is not the usual memoir with this subject at its core. It’s a map of the path this narrator took, not in sequence, but the way you would hear it if she told it to a friend, or a therapist, in remembered pieces, so you come to the whole almost by surprise, with a little gasp of wow as you see where she ends up. 

Very highly recommended.