In the Home Stretch
Last year was dry. Miserably, horribly, ground-crackingly dry. We huddled inside and used water sparingly and dreamed of rain.
So, naturally, this year has had an exceptionally wet start. The past few weeks have been rather grey, with moisture hitting us every day or two. The dogs are a constant mess of mud and grass-stained fur and the land grows greener by the hour. It’s reminded me a lot of winters in California - the smells, the clouds, the dip in spirit I feel as the dark days stretch on. While I’m no fan of the heat, and while the occasional rainy day is an absolute joy, I really do need a glut of sunlight to thrive.
Probably the most exciting find at the farm as of late has been sand lilies, popping up everywhere I walk. They kind of remind me of crocuses, in shape and size - small floral treasures waiting to be ooed and ahhed over. It’s so funny - in imagining this place in warmer weather, I only ever thought of grasses - but now I can’t wait to see what other wildflowers call this place home, too.
Speaking of home, the horses are coming in just a few days (no - I can’t believe it either)! This past weekend, we finished the mud-free plot and strung our fences which means there’re only about seven million other things to do before they get here. In all honesty, though, we’re in the home stretch. I may be falling into bed every night sore and exhausted, asleep within moments of my head hitting the pillow, but I’m also getting up every morning ready to tackle the next obstacle. Every time I think, “I can’t learn this/do this/make this” I prove myself wrong. Not only because I have to (fences don’t string themselves, after all) but because I really, really want to.
Not everything has been flowing quite as intuitively, though. Remember all those e-courses? Well I can outline them. I can film them. But I can’t edit them because my little laptop doesn’t have the power. It chugs and fumes and then just kind of…dies. Luckily for me, I know a man who works for a very large fruit company and can help me get a new machine that can do the job…but it’s going to take a little saving up first. Such is life. Part of me wants to just blow every cent of my business savings on this and a few other long-awaited tools (which I still may do), but I’m doing that cautious thing that may just be procrastination in disguise. We’ll see.
The snow last week did finally give me the inspirational push I needed to finish working on a couple of wintry Ivory Creek rings that have been floating around my bench for a good long while. I may even finish them today! Keep an eye on the shop - I’ll pop them onto those virtual shelves as soon as they’re done. After that, I think it will be time to start work on some greener pieces and a larger collection of treasures. After all, summer is just around the corner!
Tomorrow will mark one week into my Instagram hiatus…and I just have to say - its been a really, really lovely week. Just quiet in my head.
In these first few days, I’ve been trying to really think back to what I used to do for play. Recover the things that were done for the joy of doing them, no sharing or compensation of any kind involved. And let me tell you - I had to go back a long, long way to find them. But I’ve been writing little songs. Baking. Building fairy houses out among the blooming branches and wide blades of grass. Every step feels like a slog through shame and guilt and fear - but it’s a little like doing a deep clean. Sometimes things have to get way messier before they clear back up.
I had a teacher, once, who asked me recognize when I’m having a not-so-good feeling and then sit with it. Instead of pushing it down, locking it away, just be there for awhile and let it fester. Yep - that was the word she used. Fester. In Women Who Run With the Wolves, Estés would describe this as sitting in the mud with yourself, feeling empathy.
Either way you look at it, the idea is to just be there with the feeling. Not try to change it or shape it or filter it or use it. Just BE until that feeling has said what it needs to say and can find rest. So much easier said than done - but oh, the calm when all those voices feel heard and stop fighting for my attention. That is true peace.
