November Hill farm journal, 224

 

We are having really beautiful weather on November Hill, with days ranging from the 60s into upper 70s and nights in the low-mid 40s. And no rain for a couple of weeks, which is kind of nice but probably not something we want to go on for too much longer.

This millipede curled up in the night and I happened upon him one morning. The symmetry is so pleasing to the eye, and the tiny legs look like embroidery thread to me. 

We have leaves falling and fall plants still in bloom. Three pumpkins on the driveway ledge. A new native plant bed in progress as I move volunteers from odd spaces. The herd is happy and on day-time turn-out now. 

The honey bees are moving toward their winter mode, but still have plenty of forage and days warm enough to go get it. 

The North Carolina Botanical Garden opened up a virtual session for one of the core classes I need to complete my advanced native plant studies certificate program, but I missed the registration and it filled instantly. I did get on the waiting list though and just learned I’ve been moved into the class, so yay! I’m happy to have this class to focus on in November. 

I am doing some weeding each day, some barn and horse time each day, and trying to get back to my daily yoga here at home. This past weekend was my writing weekend via Zoom and it energized me to moving forward with a submission and led me back into one of the novels-in-progress. 

Time with family, precious grandchildren, and a season away from the very hard summer are all welcome this week as I move toward my mother’s 92nd birthday and to the one year anniversary of Keil Bay’s passing. 

It’s a tender week but I feel strong. Though I did something to my lower back last week and it’s on again, off again aching. It just occurred to me that the lower back is my base of support. It is understandably tired from holding up so much emotion through a season of pain and horror at what humans are capable of when not self-aware and not mentally stable. 

I haven’t talked about it here but my mom has dementia and part of the difficulty of the summer was not being able to talk to her about what was going on. And not having Keil Bay physically present was also hard. I think the focus of fall this year is honoring the sense of loss of my own personal supports during a time when I needed them. And also honoring my ability to keep going even without them being there for me the way I was used to. And to take care of my very tired back! Yoga with Adriene here I come!

When I look at the millipede, I see a long vulnerable body curled up tight, stronger and safer in its form. I’ll be doing my own version of that curling up when I need to, and thinking how we can be both safe and tightly furled while also symmetrical and beautiful. 

Northern Lights On November Hill

 Of course this is happening in October, is all I can say. 

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!