A post a day for a month. Who was I kidding?
It quickly went from a good idea into today-nothing-happened-maybe-tomorrow. So I’m going to try weekly instead.
To start, some small things. I’m laying in the hammock in the back yard. It’s a bit like being by a campfire: my front is warm where the sun hits my black hoodie, my back is cold where the wind chills me through the thin hammock fabric. Add in the smell of woodsmoke from Mike’s place, and it’s kinda nice. My fingers smell like concord grape – I touched my marijuana plant and the stickiness of the resin first smelled dank and dark as I expected, but it’s changing to grape, and now a bit chocolate-y. I need to talk to Mike about drying it for me.
Breakfast today was a hot chocolate and three spiced date cookies from the Kimberley General Store.T he loaf of sourdough I bought was still warm. I went to my swimming spot and sat on my camp chair and watched golden leaves fall into the river with every freshening of the breeze, helped milkweed seeds float away on their fluff, opened my notebook and wrote maybe 8 words. I gave it up in favour of enjoying the sunshine and the beauty spread out before me.
Day 16 – nothing much happened. I thought about writing about my mental health. But thinking about doing something is not the same as actually doing it. Maybe later.
Day 17 – Met Keith and went to the city to see Massive Attack with Katherine. Many thoughts. Again, maybe later.
Day 18 – Went to drop off my knitting for the Great Northern Exhibition. I was surprised by how much it all delighted me, until I remembered how I’d always wanted to enter something to the Binbrook Fair, but never wanted it enough to follow through. I was there early, and they will still trying to get set up, work through technical issues, etc. They hadn’t gotten into the groove of it yet. I saw a woman bring in pieces or art made by her children, and another bring in two laundry baskets full of quilts. Maybe I’ll enter relish next year.
Rainy. Grey. Cool. Damp.
Good day to stay inside and knit while watching The Expanse, Stranger Things and cheesy romcoms. Nothing of any real depth.
It’s Saturday, one without Keith. I kind of like those days. Not that I don’t love days with him, we both also love our separate days.
I did laundry. Thats about the only thing I’ve crossed off my to-do list so far. Unfortunately, knitting in front of Netflix and picnicking by the Beaver River was not on the to-do list. I did them anyway. When you are given a sunny and warm-ish day off, you take advantage of it. The rest can wait until later.
I was really hoping for a warmer spell as I would love to go for one final swim in the river. That does not look like it’s going to happen. The first swim next summer is going to feel really good.
But for now I’m sitting in the sunshine, holding down the hammock in the wind and writing. The air is filed with the sound of the wind in the trees, and a cricket chirping to me from the fire pit. It’s punctuated by tractors filled with rolls of hay and the odd motorcycle out for a ride.
I feel bad that I don’t feel worse about not riding much this summer. I spent a lot of money on insurance for the BMW to just sit in the garage most of the time. Finally talked to Keith about selling it and getting something that is more me, more fun. Something lower to the ground that won’t make me so anxious about falling over. I was surprised by how much I wanted that bike that our neighbour sold for Don’s wife. Or maybe I should’t be.
It’s Friday the 13th. And a full moon. Once upon a long time ago those facts would have meant something to me. Now it’s just a Friday.
It was a CIP day, and I felt on top of things for the first time all week. Thing got cleaned, things got put away, malt got milled. SS DD.
Highlight of the night was the poser going out during a long thunderstorm. It gets really fucking dark out where when that happens. Got the flashlight, lit the candles, and had just realized that it was too dark to read or knit when it came back on.
Jesus, my Friday nights are super thrilling.
I feel really good today. Like, slept well, and my hip or hands don’t ache like a bugger.
Note to self: do more damn yoga.
Hey, thanks Google Photos for reminding that I had the worst (IMHO) interview in my life two years ago today. (Yes, I know bigger things happened on September 11, but not to me and not in my country. Forgive me if I’ve moved on.)
I’d had other offers, but this was the one I wanted, the job that would be best for both Keith and I. I was so sure I had blown it, that I drove to the Collingwood Terminals, stared at the bay and cried for a half hour.
I got home and sent the thank-you-for-your-time email, and proceeded to wait. I’m not sure exactly what happened between then and getting an offer other than getting an update from Robin, but I remember it being long and rollercoaster-ish…just looked back at Google and it was a month+.
It feels odd that it’s been only two years; it feels like it should be longer. The changes in our lives have been huge: urban to rural; renter to homeowner; getting by to happy. there were crappy moments like Keith feeling that this was never going to be home, my anxiety ramping up, the lack of friends, the speed at which I feel off the radar. But the joys are frequent, from small ones like watching birds at the feeder and eating a tomato out of our garden to having the pleasure of watching our relationship grow stronger.
It’s a good life.
Question: What do I want?
Better question: What do I need?
The signs are all here. Leaves are beginning to change colour, some outliers already scarlet and gold. Crickets are louder. The breeze is cooler. Fields are harvested. Daisies are long gone, the Queen Anne’s lace is curling back over its centre and turning brown, the virginia creeper covering the telephone pole and around Mike’s barn is turning a red the colour of an apple in sunshine. The air smells different. The hummingbirds are gone.
I had thought that putting in a garden might help to slow the passage of days a bit, mark them in such a way that they would be like the long slow summers on Highland Road, telling time by what is ripe when.
It didn’t work very well. We missed strawberries, cherries, raspberries completely. It felt like we looked away for a weekend, and the tomatoes fell and sprawled over the ground, competing for space with the cucumbers. Time marched on as fast as always.
But I can still get in some hammock time. I’ve rolled it out from under the magnolia and the sun is hot on my legs and feet. There’s a cicadas in the ash and pine trees, drowning out the crickets, and an enormous honey bee just buzzed past.
It’s all a very perfect reminder to be in the present.
Delight. I was delighted by so much that we saw today. Small children in a Power Wheels/Barbie Car demolition Derby. Two camels in a pasture. A zebra wedged in between donkeys, all jostling to get closer to the hay mow. The smoothness of a lemon ginger shortbread cookie.