Whelp (x2)

At the most, I’m laughing at myself for my lame-o attempt to write every day this month. And there is no ‘at the least’. I’m just laughing, and shaking my head, and doing what I can do.

Its been tough, and really good, and full and empty, and things were different than I thought and there has been a veil of sadness and I’m having to arrive at some hard decisions lately. So that is my November. My belly has been very full and complained in the most harmless of ways. It is all such a mix.

I have found the timer for the outside lights and gotten that all set up, those these first nights will probably be lit for the entire night as I’m just not savvy. . . and am craving more and more lights, but not out there. I’m imagining that I’ll end up with enough sparkle lights to leave the main lights alone. Something circus-y and yet deeply satisfying. Darkness fitting itself in and around the light.

We’ll arrive when we arrive, right?

I’m not there yet with healing and self-sufficiency in November, I’ve got a ways to go. There is grief, and dissatisfaction, and a growing need to assert. I’m not all that good with asserting myself and so sometimes I allow things that I should not, because there is noone around to point it out to me, what I am doing, this ‘allowing’.

The kettle is whistling for the hot cocoa to be made. Today was a first snow flurry of the season.

There is more delight than I could have foreseen in these teenaged years. Sometimes its just the tiniest moment between the tumults, but man, they are an entire world of glow. a secret look into the snowglobe of the world.

clamor, tumult, snowglobe shake.

i’m doing fine. My most fervent wish is that you are too.



Christmas chickens

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

okay okay

here we are: the otherside.

I’ve completed the hardest of my projects for this week, and i’m basking. Just momentarily, but still. And, a birthday is completed, and I can’t tell you how glad I am. And the cactus in the houseplant section of my kitchen are blooming. and there is joy in mudville. and tomorrow I get to go feed the chickens again. and that is invigorating. so much so.

so, its not necessarily the otherside, but its well down the path towards it. I can see those greener pastures of january first, i can.

there will be bumps, this is guaranteed.

I’m a bump-ridden kind of girl. But also, I’m a bump rider. I throw my hands up when the car goes over the tracks and I love the thump of my base when I hit the speedbumps. SO.

I wrote this morning about what is in my fridge and how I’m sadly familiar with the liquifaction of zucchini. and thats a bump, but i’m waving my arm around like I just don’t care. Can you see me? More liquid magic for the compost heap, baby.

And, determination. So much determination that maybe next year, I’ll even plant zucchini, just to prove it to myself that there is a way, somehow, someway, to get my kids to eat it. There is. I will lazerpoint my steely eyes on those children and watch them with glee when it happens to them.

The zuke.

(whats funny is that most of my writing this morning had to do with myself being a ‘pantser’ style (by the seat of your pants) writer, a writer without a plan who gets an idea and just runs. This post is a perfect example of the problem with pantsing. No doubt you did not expect the first sentence to lead you through this journey. Neither did I. I’m just along for the ride, like you.)

And herein lies the problem with this every day thing… no, no, i’m not going to say it, or type it, or even think it anymore.

i’m just going on faith here that if you read it, you’ll find something in it that you like. go digging. find something.

maybe my kids won’t need me to play hide the zucchini.

and because I think that sentence is so funny and leads to so much joy and hysteria, i’m going to stop right there.

love you guys. dig for it.


Photo by Angele J on


I spent most of the day at a soccer game in the most brilliantly beautiful warm fall day you could imagine. I mean, take the time to envision the greens against a blue sky, the shock of the sun against the reds, oranges, dark greens, yellows of the tree line.

The boys all in white, and red, running on the green.

Colorwise, I was blown into the stratosphere. Honestly.

And, it was an awesome game, fraught with peril and intrigue.

And, We Won. Which makes it all glimmer and sparkle like a damn tv commercial for main street, america. (think gilmore girls town center at christmas, babes)

Stars Hollow, I believe.

I may have watched too much of that show at one point. I left when Rory hit the skids and went for the rich guy. I hated that guy. Sigh.

Anyhow. My sister and her love were there, my mom and all my kids. My old father in law was hidden elsewhere but was there with his daughter. It was the most beautiful day.

Today we have a birthday party at a trampoline place that I am mildly dreading, and hosting. The noise of the place, the exhaustion of socializing when masked. If I sit down and read a book, with headphones on, do you think people will judge me?

My daughter will judge me.


Fuck. I need a cigarette. Do you think the trampoline park will mind if i smoke?

(i’m not going to smoke. its been over a month now. yeah baby.)


I’m hoping to write more interesting things this coming week, now that I have some days empty, in a row, even. My projects are winding down and after Monday will be primarily finish work on both.

We will see.

So for today, just a tiny bit of whats going on here. today. yesterday.

you got me, i know.


Sigh. The photos can’t capture it. Shocking color yesterday. literally shocking the system.