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.

double rainbow

 The familiarity of home in Maryland was weighing on me a few weeks ago.  For some reason waves of stress and anxiety decided to fill up inside and I began to miss our simple farm life and the endless amounts of tomatoes that would be piling up on my kitchen counter right about now, and I missed my Grandma. But mashed up against these emotions were also genuine feelings of happiness to be living here in this mountain city. There is a lot of life on these streets and so much more exploring to do. You know, it's an interesting thing to want to be in two places at once.

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Kyle and I were finishing up a walk in the woods together as a biker passed us. He was older and looked to be in good shape. He said hello and asked how we were doing, I replied with "great, how about you!" He hollered back at me, "Awesome! Best day of my life!" I loved the contentment and satisfaction wrapped up in his short statement. I want to always find that and hold it close.

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What I need to get over is that there is only something noteworthy about the twenty-something-year-old mind process. I've always thought we are the most bold and free thinking at this stage in the game-- naive too about the world- allowing us to move forward and explore openly and without fear or hesitation. I've thought is was really important to see and do all I could during this time because it would profoundly change the way I viewed the world for the rest of my life. But the truth is- that is not true. That idea needs to leave my body and fly away with the wind because we can and should think boldly and creatively and openly all throughout our lives, and if that is the case, the adventures should never end.

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I'm currently working at a school that Sage attends. She is in a preschool class, while I co-teach a class of three year old children. It's a play-based curriculum and my co-workers have been taught to initiate creative thinking with kids and peacefully break up arguments.  I watch them get down to eye level with the little ones and calmly talk the issues through. I'm always amazed at how well they can sift through the problem and make the situation better. I think, some of these teachers have found their calling and they are damn good at what they do. Me on the other hand, I'm taking notes. Passionately, I am not a teacher like them. Passionately, I am a photographer. But I can try to do this teacher thing for a time period. I can do it.

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Sage is forming friendships with her classmates and seeing them play together on the playground blows my mind. The first moment I saw her little body appear almost four years ago is still so strongly fixated into my memories, I can't believe she is now at this stage -running freely around, her legs moving so fast. Her blond hair is lightening up from the sun and little freckles are forming on her nose. She tells me she wants to grow her hair long and wear earrings. The colorful sentences she speaks gives us just a little view into the world of her thoughts. I think I may always feel pressure within myself to keep fostering that part of her. I want her to always imagine. I want her to always play.

Our living situation is interesting for us. Temporarily we are living in an apartment, but we are not apartment people. I love the comfort that my home-base right now brings my family, but I'm excited to find a small house with a yard. We need a garden, it's weird not seeing Kyle digging in the dirt. He's been resourceful with the space we have, though, and has found ways to utilize his passion for horticulture by creating a compost bin in our sun room and a hydroponic system for a few tomato plants. We even have a herb garden thriving in a small makeshift raised bed. I was just chopping up a few handfuls of basil for a quiche the other night and started laughing at the whole situation.

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The evening sun shines brightly into this space causing the inside to heat up to an uncomfortable  temperature. I find myself sweating and know it's time then to turn the air conditioning on for a bit.  We eat at our kitchen table which we relocated to our living room because of its natural light. Sitting down for a meal together is special and there is no reason to sit and eat in a dark space.

As the sun goes down, I turn off the air. I re-open my windows and a mountain breeze will push in, touching my eyes and cheeks. Soon I can feel it dancing all around from room to room as I get Sage ready for bed.

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The hum of our ceiling fan and the words from my book put me to sleep at night. I like hearing Kyle softly breath next to me and will always envy his ability to fall asleep so easily. His skin is warm and tan from his long days spent outside. Simone makes her little snort sounds from the cool bathroom floor. Sage should be tugging at my toes soon, with her pillow in hand, asking to come in our bed. I'll say yes and she'll snuggle in between us and twirl a piece of my hair the rest of the night with her finger. I'll feel loved and comfortable in that moment and think this is all so ordinary and special.

seasons

Our dog has been my teacher lately. And so has my daughter. Simone continues to remind me of the powerful wisdom she holds of living in the present moment. A few weeks ago she helped with breaking the ice after a frustrating morning walk to the beach with my family---on the way we had learned we forgot the pale and shovel-- Simone was walking too fast on her leash--Sage was whiny --raindrops were slowly falling out of the clouds and onto our heads---I had originally envisioned this walk to the ocean to be much more pleasant. Our moods were not good when we reached the shoreline. I laid out a blanket for us and hoped these bad feelings would melt away and pass as fast as the clouds above us. Simone sat down beside me but quickly decided to get up and walk to the ocean. She slowly let her paws get wet and then all of a sudden that was it--her furry body was leaping into the waves. We watched as her golden coat merged into a dark brown color and her legs moved so instinctively in the water as she paddled into the current- every movement of hers was like medicine to our souls. I looked over at Kyle and smiled and realized that was all we needed. We were by the ocean, our feet were in the sand, the sun was beginning to peek out through the clouds and pour warmth onto our shoulders. We were here together right now in this moment and I could see happiness begin to fill us.

I pulled into the park last week with Sage after a day of packing. Her little body needed to release some energy and I felt anxious to get her to a playground to run around. As I turned the corner though I saw there was a family reunion going on under the park pavilion and immediately a bad word came out of my mouth. I didn't have the energy to socialize with park strangers and I told Sage we were going to go to another park. But then I heard, "Don't be scared, Mommy. They're our friends- don't be scared of our friends. It will be fine." And my heart melted and I knew she was so right. She is such a gem, my greatest treasure.

 We have officially moved off the farm and will be spending a couple months with family to figure out our next move. I thought I would be carrying around more sadness after saying goodbye to that place but it turns out I'm not feeling much of that at all. After we had packed and cleaned everything out, I went around to each room and said thank you. Thank you for keeping us safe. Thank you for adding inspiration into my life. I walked to the door and took a nice long look at the large cluster of windows facing the west. They were always my favorite feature.  When I looked at them, I felt them give me an encouraging hug to get out. Leave!...go!...I felt them say. You guys weren't happy here on this land anymore- go find your happiness--- go learn and grow away from this farm. Go on an adventure- go meet new people-go watch the sun set from another place! And swooooosh- their energy lovingly turned by body around towards the outside. I walked out and shut the door and never even felt the urge to look back.

road signs

I left work and rolled down my car windows. Moving from the cold air conditioned office to this summer warmth feels so good.  As I reverse out of my parking spot, I watch as goosebumps rise on my arms and swear my body is saying 'thank you' in someway.  It tells me, 'Thank you' for moving us into a more natural environment.  I only have about three minutes of this good feeling before the heat begins to consume me and sweat starts to build up on my forehead. I turn right heading towards the highway feeling wisps of my hair flying wildly in the wind. I watch as my hand floats in the tunnel of air through my side mirror.

Modest Mouse tunes pull in through my ears and tug on my heart strings. This band seems to resurface in nostalgia induced moments- or when thoughts seem heavy. In this case, the thoughts inspired their words and rhythm to spill out again.  Inspiration, excitement, sadness, frustrations- it's all swirling around right here.

I've been taking notes. Twenty-six years in and I've been thinking: this world is a bewildering place. The highs and lows involved, the ebb and flow of everything. We all have to be so strong and bold. Some people have to be so, so strong it brings tears to my eyes. I just don't understand.

I've been thinking about change. Change is inevitable. It can come in many forms and being afraid of change is not a healthy or productive thing to be scared of.

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.