you could call it writers' bloc. or blogger bloc. or more aptly just foggy brained. but i cannot think of a word to write to you. i spoke several weeks ago of a feeling of surreality. of not fully grasping my present. and here it is again. on the eve --or the penultimate eve-- of our departure i am a shell of my former farmer self. i have been so preoccupied with the details of the move that i in turn become even more preoccupied with consuming every last moment on the farm. which creates this overly sensitized being where i am so dramatically in-tuned to my surroundings that i must look like i'm on psychedelics.
like yesterday afternoon when the lightening storm swept over the farm and i stood on the back patio, arms akimbo, breathing in the whooshes of rain along with the clouds. wondering how the sky knew that when i let go of a breath it should let the rain fall harder.
like this evening as we drove across the farm in elizabeth's '79 vw bus, the speakers blaring a 1920s era jazz tape, the stars already high in their position. i let nick talk and talk as i silently tried to count each star and turn the music up ever louder humming to myself a tune i had never heard before.
or just now as i walked through the dark pig pen to check on our sick sow mavis. the air was completely black. and i wasn't scared. i'm not scared of the dark on this farm. but i was attuned if you will. attuned to the indelible presence of bubba, the 800 pound boar, who was somewhere in that pen. lurking, the only way a boar of that caliber can exist at that hour, no matter their kindness in the daylight hours. i heard every ant that crossed a leaf. every mosquito that landed on mavis. every chicken's rustling feathers settling as i scooped feed to the sow and poured water on her hot head and back. listening for bubba. i looked like a jumping hot potato with every sound.
i will embraced the crazy that has overtaken me. i know that the farm still needs me, even if i have done farm chores in my underwear (it IS hot) for the past 3 days. even though i have been making a valiant effort to drink All Of Our Wine by myself. even though i only have 2 more days here.
i'm trying to reconcile leaving with being madly in love with a piece of land. with the ecosystem that this land has fostered. it's not pretty. so i thank you for having gotten as far as you have.
with tuesday night now turning, dutifully to wednesday, i can safely say, that we are leaving tomorrow. the truck is two-thirds packed. i will try to reign in the crazy so that i can bid adieu to this place with some dignity and with some clothes on.
1. the sunnies finally bloomed. i was so thrilled, they had been mocking me along for the past 2 weeks. i was sure i was going to miss their entrance.
2. in a surprise turn nick collected honey sunday evening. loads of it. and he does it without any mask or suit or gloves or smoking. it is bad ass. i say it is dangerous and beg him not to do it and stand with an epi pen, paralyzed at the front door, as he beekeeps. but i must say, the boy has a way with his bees.
3. tequila sunrise peppers. hate the name. love the color.
4. the steam was so intense in the morning's mugginess that the camera lens kept fogging.