Tag: farmlife

Humanity

questions… 5 am.

Lovelovemotherexpletive

Being almost 50.

  • how do i let go if i keep remembering?
  • no really, if I’m still stuck on how a landline works, how’m I supposed to get satellite signals equaling real and true sounding voices?
  • is this it then, the culmination of my life, that i work all the time and worry about the kids?
  • How do i get my fucking jade plant to thrive? i think about it way too much.
  • why are accidents so much more poignant for me now? because i feel my own mortality so much? the ways in which small things can be enormous in a life?
  • Can i work forever? when the kids are gone and i’ve moved into a tiny house with my man somewhere, can i just wake up and go to work, forever? there is always so much to be done. everywhere. all I i want to do is plant stuff.
  • do you know i have to change clothes two or three times a day just to be clean and non-contaminated, depending on what i am doing at the farm, or at the school? the car is a jumbled up closet of farmshoes, and school clothes. the back seat is unusable. yesterday i laid all the seats down to deliver eggs to a store 45 minutes away. then, i played playdough. outfit changes. Is this adulthood?
  • Want some eggs? I have a lot. Finally got rid of a bunch of roosters, and now they are much happier ladies out there. Nobody needs or wants that much cock. No question.
  • I need to go away for a week by myself. Think that will ever happen? No, me neither. And I would miss everyone so much, and I can’t afford to miss a week of work anyways. But I’m pining for it. Ever heard of Woolman Hill? (this is not an invitation for my sister or boyfriend or brother to buy something. got it? don’t piss me off.)
  • Self hair cuts? Yes? or no?
  • I think i’m done here, I’m losing my juju.
  • Love to you,
  • me.

Some of these babies have already been planted in the field now, that’s how quickly things grow these days. and they’re off!!

Humanity

flibbity. or, finding the beauty in the mundane.

Lovelovemotherexpletive

today is another day to miss and mourn my lively senses and their formerly rich role in my life. perhaps.

I’ll still wave my hope flag in the world despite all that is happening and the ways in which the bad guys seem to win all the time. bigger guns, fat wallets, less compassion and zero empathy. fuck ’em all and dig your little garden. or bunker, what have you.

why haven’t the mega-rich all been set on fire?

It is not my hope that they get set on fire, but that I regain my sense of wonder, my ability to find the sparkles amongst the drudgery.

I’ve got these free hours and i’m trying to take care of all the little buggers, the paperwork the health insurance people want, the bill from the eye appointment, the slowdown on paying off the credit card, these small little important things. but i have the time and finally, the will, to pigeonhole the papers. i’m hoping to be able to clean off my kitchen table entirely sometime this week, and the paper piles may be the end of me.

its too soon to garden and i’m craving it. i just keep telling myself its too soon, and i’m spitting at myself. at the farm i am seeding hundreds upon hundreds of babies. kale and choy and many many rainbow chard. it is beautiful in there. but at home? i must wait. sigh.

this is just me, trying to write more, and not all drama-like. the mundane probably has beauty in it too, right?

right?

the beauty of the paper pile? the majesty of the bills?

-lovelove you,

me.

trays of joi choi seedlings just barely out of the dirt.
Humanity

falling leaves, right?

Lovelovemotherexpletive

One of the things i’ve learned from working with farmers, besides the fact that I’m not actually cut out to be an ACTUAL farmer, is that the seasons actually do follow that whole ‘official first day of… ‘ thing. As in, the weather will still be more warm than chilly until the end of the month (22nd?) and the cold will settle in afterwards. And then, the week that ‘winter’ starts, its going to be actually fucking cold.

And I’m not a pumpkin spice person, so I could probably not give less of a shit about all that. I’ll take the warm days and the cool nights forever and ever, amen.

Its been a while, and its ‘fall’ according to kids being back in school and my outdoor laboring jobs slowing down. I’m turning back to working from home, writing, editing, and the like. Well, i’m going to try damn hard. I’m pretty damn fearful I won’t make enough money and it’s still not enough to force me into some other line of work. not yet.

I’m good otherwise. I have the wood I need to get through the cold spell. Though, most of it is in the front yard, waiting to be split and THAT is waiting on me to go buy an ax. I want to memorialize this action somehow, like dress up in a loose and flowy gown with sparkles before I walk into the big box hardware store and purchase my ax. It is a once in a lifetime thing, and it should be special.

Maybe I’ll carry a lit candle.

I should bring my kids with me. Because I want them to have more core memories of me than just ‘lady who does laundry’ and ‘the boring house’ and ‘why can’t we go out to dinner?’ …. yes, i jest. we have a good time, they are sto damn funny. but goddamn. i do see this as a negative of the two-home family. the comparisons are nonstop, and i really do not do well when held up against ‘the weekend house’ and the laisse-faire. and i think i’ve misspelled that. and guess what? i’m not going to search it up or correct it. because i’d much rather have someone contact me about it and engage in a conversation. how bout that?

i’ve got to go soon, my new leaves in flip still include egg washing chores, and i’m off to wash dozens and dozens of them. While i wash, i do a lot of thinking about ‘dispatches from the cooped-up’. I do crack myself up.

See what I did there?

oh my friends, expect more from me. go on. do it.

love love,

kate