Harvest Moon

(some thoughts here were written months ago)

My days have been busy navigating the summer routines of my job here. The garden work changes seasonally and with this being my first year, I'm seeing the rhythm of the work cycling through for the first time. The Sagittarius in me really enjoys the seasonal work changes and this is the first job I've had since graduating college where the boredom hasn't set in. I keep thinking of ways I can do a better job next year and it's refreshing.

Our garden harvesters, who work mostly alongside Kyle right now, will bring in the goods from the gardens and I will determine what will be processed further and preserved. Chopping, peeling and jarring are jobs that are therapeutic to the people I work with-- and each day the ones that would rather stay inside during these hot summer months sit at the table in our work kitchen and wait to hear from me how they can help with the whole process. Lately I've been in the mood to make pasta sauces. I'll put on some music and pull out three or four cutting boards from the cabinet--put a spread of tomatoes, garlic, basil and onions on the table and together we get started. Our work area fills up quickly with the savory smells of onion and garlic cooking in olive oil. We peel the skins off our tomatoes and add them in the mixture.The sweet and spicy peppers get chopped up and thrown in next, along with squash for the creaminess. Herbs are bundled up and placed in last accompanied by some salt and pepper and honey. The sauce simmers and reduces the rest of the day and the savory smells stream out into the summer air as we leave and enter our work space.

The canning occurs at the end of the day and the final step involves putting the lidded jars filled with sauce in a hot water bath for 25 minutes or so.  I wipe sweat from my face as I use tongs to pull out the finished jars and can't help but feel connected to the past by preserving food with this method. I think of my grandmother often in this kitchen. After I've collected the jars from the water, I wait to hear a little pop letting me know the lid properly sealed. And there it is- the nourishing vitamins from summer tomatoes ready to be consumed in the cold of winter.
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I have a little baby growing in my belly and a brain that can't fill itself with enough words. I've read and reread more books this summer than I think I ever have. They have been a random plethora of reading materials involving eastern spirituality, a gripping memoir of a drug addict who checked himself into rehab and saved his life, the lyrical words of Barbara Kingsolver with Animal Dreams and Prodigal Summer. My first and only parenting book and other novels based on creative living.

Elizabeth Gilbert words were inspiring,

 "...When I talk about "creative living" here....I'm talking about living a life that is driven more strongly by curiosity than by fear."

She goes on to say...

"...creative living is a path for the brave......And while the paths and outcomes of creative living will vary from person to person, I can guarantee you this: A creative life is an amplified life. It' a bigger life, a happier life, an expanded life, and a hell of a lot more interesting life, Living in this manner-- continually and stubbornly bringing forth the jewels that are hidden within you- is a fine art, in and of itself."

I'm grateful to her and people like her that in humble ways pass on the wisdom they have gathered through their own life experiences. They make it clear that life can be a challenge---it can be such a fucking beautiful and sad and thrilling and mundane experience-- but they remind us to keep pushing forward through it all- keep expanding and reaching- keep experiencing- keep finding the colors and goodness.

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I thought of her words as we took off on a plane heading west for a summer trip. I always have a mini panic attack inside myself before flying and as I buckled my daughter in her seat I had scary thoughts dance around in my head. I pushed them away though. What a powerful thing positive thinking is. And you need to be brave to live creativity. The anxiety lifted as the planes wheels left the runway. We flew through the clouds and the whole trip on the other side of the continent was so freeing. We laughed and explored and camped our way down parts of the the pacific coast- all of us wide-eyed with the beauty of it all.

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And months have passed by since I started writing this post. The heat of summer has filtered through and now Autumn is here. The leaves are changing and the Monarchs are out exploring. On the weekends I've been buzzing around my house preparing and nesting for this new baby. I cherish all the little kicks and jabs I feel in my belly and think daily of what a miraculous experience carrying a baby is. I feel like a flower--constantly blooming, blooming, blooming.  Birth is approaching and I'm ready to go on that journey...I'm excited to ride the waves of contractions again and let my body work it's magic naturally and fearlessly. What a thrilling ride it all is.

shift in perceptive

It's been 7 months. I'm not sure I have ever been away from this space for that long. The thought of ending the writing crossed my mind at random points - 'what a silly project that was' I thought. Or was it writers block? I couldn't find the right words to write down.

But now I'm here. And I think I have found them.

Nearly a year into Asheville and we decided to veer off somewhere else. The opportunity came out of nowhere and with surprise to us, the final decision to pack up and go was not a hard one. We left behind jobs we disliked and an overpriced apartment. Sadly, new friends, too. But, honestly, it was harder to always be working for the weekend. And the weekends never lasted long enough. Better work options seemed bleak in that town- moving away felt easier. Yesterday evening I heard a lyric by Feist that resonated with me- ' I know more than I knew before. I didn't rest, I didn't stop…' and I thought, damn right girl- that is how I feel about all that.

Mountains are a constant for us. We followed the Appalachians about five hours north to the foothills of Virginia and moved into a 200 year old farmhouse tucked away in the Shenandoahs. Kyle's new position brought us here as he knew he needed to get back into his element. He needed to get his hands dirty again- I feel the garden and greenhouse environment are his 'soul offices'. He has so much passion for them. I'm envious of him because I can't wait to find mine.

There is a therapeutic element to his job and mine as we interact with groups of individuals with a range of disabilities at different times during our week. The social scientist in me is loving these new interactions with people I initially thought were very different from me. Turns out I was wrong- at the core there is no difference. Human beings have emotional hearts and are pretty similar in the end as we universally have an innate desire to feel validated, loved and free.

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A maintenance employee came over to our house the other day to fix molding in our bathroom. He's an older, hairy man. Nice and gentle. Heavy smoker. I can smell it on him and hear that raspy cough that accompanies that habit once its reeled you in so tight there's no way of escaping. Anyway, he lugs in many different types of tools and a can full of white paint. Outside he sets up his saw and cuts molding pieces for the different areas that need fixing up. He works and works and works. He spends most of the day in the bathroom fixing the specific areas. At the end of the day, I came back inside just in time to see the final product as he was finishing up. I was impressed. You are so talented! I tell him. He laughs and I can tell he doesn't necessary believe in the compliment I gave him. But it was true. He is an artist to me. He gathers his tools and puts them back in his red truck. He lights a cigarette and drives off. I imagine him going back to his house to let his dogs out- first grabbing a cold beer from the refrigerator- thinking about making steak and potatoes for dinner.

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I'm understanding how my environments play such a deep role with my personal creative process. The character of the space I live in presently is inspiring to me- after all, I felt the energy to finally sit down and write again. I'm anxious to start taking pictures with my 'big camera'- and go through with building up my photography. I'm excited to round up some new music and to cook with new spices. I've even started dreaming about a baby. First time in four years. I'm not even sure when the right time for that will be, but the idea doesn't seem as outlandish as it has in the past.

southern roots

I left only for a night but now that I'm back home and rested, I feel like I was gone for a week. This trip was a special one. I got to navigate around airports by myself with wide-open eyes- listening to my favorite music; in pursuit of dear friends I haven't seen in years. Once I got to them each one unraveled to me significant events that had happened to them since the last time we had been together. My brain felt like a sponge and I thought of my daughter as I diligently soaked in everything. Their stories were so meaningful to me. And now that I'm home I feel I read through six good books that weekend.

One is married; two are engaged; one can dance around so gracefully with the soccer ball, she plays professionally; another is starting to really open up and find herself; and the friend I knew the least about just watched her precious father die two weeks ago. Tears never even came close to escaping her eyes when talking about the experience. She explained that she knew it was coming and was prepared. I was taken back by her strength and the powerful statements she made, like:  "I feel I haven't slept for six months. I'm so ready to sleep now." 



















All night I felt like I was being hugged by the warm winter winds. We celebrated our friendships at a bar that reminded me of a tree house. The lighting was perfect and I couldn't help but notice all the naturally beautiful people around me. We migrated next into the city where the big buildings surrounded us.

The next afternoon as we all packed up to head back to our homes, we promised to reconnect much sooner the next time. Four years from now would just be way too long.

I put my headphones on once I was at the airport- excited to take in the final part of this little adventure I was on. Feist came on..."I feel it all. I feel it all." I thought of my family. I was happy to be heading to them. And then I thought of heartstrings. It's so interesting how you feel like your own heart is running around in your children. You don't want to be away from them for long. I took a short nap on the plane ride home and met Kyle outside. As the car pulled up, I noticed immediately he gave himself a hair cut and it looked so good. It's shorter and reminds me of when we first met. I put my bag in the backseat and hopped in the car- feeling thankful for the people in my life right now and excited for the friendships I have not made yet.

a post in photos: we made it to the coastline

decorative trail

The camelbak was filled. Snacks were packed. Sneakers were on. My camera was safely wrapped in a blanket and tucked away in a bag. My baby was on my back.

The first part to this trail is a killer- the incline just seems to grow and grow as the trail changes from dirt to rock; the larger rocks indicating the steepest part has arrived. I carried Sage for about a mile up I would say but felt discouraged once we met up with these bigger rocks. I continued up the trail a couple more feet and then asked to make a switch with my sister. I felt bad handing the weight of Sage over to her especially during this part of the hike, but I wasn't feeling very powerful.  My sister took over, though, and carried her niece up on her back with no problem at all. I marveled a bit as she gracefully powered ahead of me, seemingly bouncing off these big rocks like she had springs on the bottom of her shoes. I advanced up behind her, noticing how my hands met my knees with each big step I took. Upward we moved. Sweat poured down the side of my face. I concentrated on my breaths.

When we made it to the top, the rocky trial turned back to dirt and the terrain leveled out. The sunlight peered in through the canopy of leaves above us- decorating the trail with a beautiful leafy pattern. It felt cool and refreshing up there. It felt whimsical and remote. This is why we hike. Of course, like always, we walked past other hikers. Some hike solo, some have dogs, some are friendly, some just walk right by making no eye contact at all. There must be something on their mind, I think. They appear to be mangling through some thoughts- searching for some clarity. I hope they are able to find it.

Once we made it to the overlook. We stayed there for a bit and relaxed. Heading back down is always easier. Conversation flows better. Our bodies felt tired in a good way. My head felt less cloudy. Sage slept soundly on my back, holding onto me tightly. I thought, her eyes saw good things today, I hope she's dreaming of butterflies and mountaintops.

a trip north

We traveled to my Momma's hometown last weekend. The trip went by fast. It was great to see relatives and the ocean. The beaches in that small coastal town have so much character--a character that I sadly only started to appreciate and recognize my past few visits. There isn't much sand on them. Most are actually covered by rocks that have tumbled in from the sea. Large boulders peak out from the ocean in areas, and when the tide is low people can walk and climb all over them. Starfish, snails and other sea life will bask in the shallow pools that surround the perimeter of these large rocks during this time. They always look so beautiful. I wonder how they handle ocean life. They are so fragile and it seems like it would be a rough and dark one to me.

Sage is intimidated by the sand and ocean waves. She took a nice long nap on the beach when we were there, but when she woke up she held me tight and I don't think her thumb left her mouth once. She was much more content chasing bunnies in my Grandmother's yard and coloring in her notebook. I'm really hoping one day she will look forward to building sand castles and playing in the ocean waves. When I was a little girl the beach was such a magical place.