How much midnight do you carry?

*i spent yesterday going through one old journal, making notes, writing down things that i thought were remarkable. Today’s post title got me right in the chest. i think everyone should write about it.

My heart is in the shape of a walnut again. In my older blogs I wrote about my walnut heart many times, in many ways, and all of my worries about it, what it might mean and all the things, all of them.

When I realized this week that I was feeling the pain of it, the hardness in the center of my self, the hurt I am carrying, I realized I had been years without it, and I’m not sure I remarked on that enough. Maybe I didn’t even know my lightness had returned? Is that possible?

My mother-in-love will die very soon, and is definitely in another phase of existence even now. My favorite mentor for decades, I am deep in grief these days and it has been almost unbearable to recognize the walnut as grief.

Was I really grieving the marriage all that time? All those jokes, that mistake of identifying myself as cold, or hard-hearted? Grief? Really? It makes me weep for the woman I have been.

I am deep in the midnight, and the dawn and all the places where there are cracks, I am in there.

love love,



Sinking feeling.

i’ve forgotten my antidepressants for two days. (just as an fyi) Took a late dose today because I’ve started falling off the path into past losses. I even spent a minute resenting that married guy I liked so much who neglected to tell me that he was married. men can really be assholish. I know its gender fluid, that assholish-ery, but I stand by my sentence, as the body of my experience is with male assholes.

my former mother inlaw is in the hospital again, and i’ve been told now, for the third time, that she just has a little bit of time left.

She’s one of my oldest friends. I met her when I was fifteen and loved her even then, and never stopped. I will miss her terribly. I admire her so. I do not envy her children, because they really don’t know what is in store for them, despite all the assurances that they do. maybe they are in fact, different from the rest of us. time will tell i guess.

i don’t like writing bullshit like that there, but feel the need to leave it because i know how common that attitude is in me, full of resentment and past bullshittery…. just so you see me as I am.

Bullshit it is, because grief and how you feel it is yours, and yours alone and i have no right to fling my own ego on this situation.

its going to be a large loss, and we will all feel it.

I’m making cookies. Plain old chocolate chip. Enough to fill the cookie jar and more.

I’ll get through, changed, but through.

love you all.



Eclipse, evidently. (PLENTY)

Yesterday (Friday now) was stupid, folks. I was swamped with feelings of inadequacy and frankly, jealousy. It is not a good look and not something I carry well. Inadequacy I’m familiar with. Jealousy? No.

Like all of us, a work in progress am I. It was just too much yesterday and I did hit the Walking Dead, and hard.

And then I missed a day of writing, And then another. So now I’m writing on a Monday, after a weekend of plenty. Saturday was The last day of CSA pickup before Thanksgiving and I spun in the luxury of plenty. Literally, as I served the people and packed the cranberries, and figuratively as I packed the foods of a feast to come. I really did. Leeks, Potatoes, Spinach, Butternut! Apples! Sage! Onion! I was still hustling to get stuff ready and I looked at the clock and my day was done. SO MUCH PLENTY! Cornucopias overflowing, my friends.

This Thursday is Thanksgiving in these united states. ha, on that ‘united’ . but i digress and thats a grief that I cannot touch these days.

Thanksgiving is one of my most favorites (because hello gluttony! and stuffing, and then more stuffing and potatoes too, oh my god, and gravy…) but it is directly after the anniversary of my dad’s death which was Sunday, and this will be the second year that there is no extended family plenty for me to host, which is a gigantic and enjoyable distraction that makes me feel centered and well. I LOVE having people that I love in my house, it fills me up all sorts of ways…

Sigh. I tried. I opened the invite to all, but with meager responses and drive and covid risk, its been winnowed down. Less than plenty, but understandable and a day free from driving will give many of my family a different sort of ‘plenty’, so i feel that spaciousness for them.

My grief group that I am supposed to write in was last night, but as it was the actual anniversary, I couldn’t do it. For several reasons. another kind of plenty. the anniversary of my dad’s death is not something I focus on, but am aware of. My siblings are more on top of things in that way and I appreciated the focus they gave me, really.

I did some driving for my mom who was having car troubles, and she could only just say she found it a stressful day. I did not dig but just rolled along, because that is what I do. I can roll.

I may be deflated, but I still roll babies.

So say we all.

I hope you have your own loving, gorgeous Plenty this week, and all the weeks.

Is there anything more ‘barn’ than this? Really?
Color overwhelm of Cranberry
Who knew this girl would be so happy being outside in coldness feeding chickens? Who knew?

I like being busy.

I know. Its with a certain amount of chagrin that I say this, knowing how I’ve been complaining these past few weeks.

My projects wrapped up. and while there is a tiny thing I could do, I’m finding myself utterly at a loss and swept away by emotions. I do blame perimenopause for some of it, yes, but not all.

working for myself, at home, is not an easy gig.

i’m thinking i might go binge on the walking dead, because i can hide from the gratuitous gore and just hang on to the mystery of who is going to survive or what will ever cause things to get better. (i’m on season six somewhere so don’t say a word.)

the kids are also away this weekend and i’ve had them for the past two, so there is this gaping maw sensation. I’ve got some entertainment in my social life these days but i’m thinking i’m going to take the weekend off from that too. and so, its just me, and tv.

never fear. i’ve got a crockpot going and have fed the chickens and things look normal from the outside. but still. this month. tsk.

Its nice to think about cooking good food. I’ve been assigned brussel sprouts and butternut. Plus, mashed potatoes. All will be well. I can actually just live on those, anyhow, so we’re good.

love you guys. hope your search for food will be fulfilled.


My ladies, of Flying Carrot Farm


I’ve mentioned before that I am swamped with melancholy in this month and next. The anniversary of my dad’s death and the necessity of sharing birthdays of children with my ex and all the tearing up of my insides at the still new change of holiday appearances, all that? Oh god, the feeling of loss is so damn pervasive, its the chill in my toes of winter. It swamps me, and I am still working on it, but am spending most of my time just looking forward to New Year’s Day, the day everything is finished and everything can begin.

When I say ‘most of my time’ that is mostly a lie. I’m busy, we’re all busy and I don’t necessarily have the time to focus on my inner workings all day. But, BUT, I am aware of a somewhat constant undercurrent of sadness.

So. When a friend told me about a writing group that focused on grief, it did not feel like a horrorshow. It felt like a possibility, a way to purge myself of this feeling, or at least to acknowledge it at a deeper level than just in type, here.

It was tough. I didn’t want to. and sometimes, knowing the depths of loss that people can be in, it can make my grieving of a father, and a man I thought I knew, or the girl i was when i believed in people, feel somehow less significant. When someone is in the rawness of it, and you see, remember and don’t feel it anymore? awe inspiring how human we all are. and how much a part of human life loss and grief are.

I spend a lot of time in shallow waters, and it is much safer there. but the truth isn’t there, and when i woke up this morning (daylight savings be damned) I felt relieved. Somehow the writing of it has released some of it for me today. I’ll take it, even if its temporary.

so thats where i’m at. day 8 of this month of constant writing. So far so good.

the work is ongoing.

-love love.

ball point pen on opened notebook
Photo by Jessica Lynn Lewis on