Sheepish

A kindred spirit in November

The simple beauty of this month stuns me each time.

And as we edge ever closer to the shortest day, my natural rhythm follows that of the earth in my locale.  It is the beginning of a season of reflection.  Of stillness and of rest.

I feel it is much easier to be myself in November.

"Mother Earth smiled and rose from her chair.  Now the Autumn blanket was ready.  It had both warmth and light for her children to wear through the cold and the dark.

  And so she took the blanket and spread it out over the land." (S. Perrow)

 

Around here

Hydrangeas are where it's at.  They are quite lovely of course, but are also the only blooms around after the hard frost of last weekend.

We are visited each day by a band of marauding wild turkeys with a liking of birdseed and windfall apples.  I admit to a small chunk of happiness at their presence, with a rapidly mounting fear for my future garden beds.

Left and leaving are the warm and sunshiny days of Summer and early Autumn.  Hard on the heels of this fact came the realization of a need for more soft and squishy places to cozy up inside.  So, sew.  Cushions done.  Duvet covers to come.  

We bought ourselves a kickass woodstove instead of a furnace to get us through this Winter.  And I am steadfastly refusing to listen to any predictions of what is believed to lie in store for us during the colder months.  Not listening.

xoKaren

 

Words escape me

With each day I spend on this piece of land my footing feels more steady.  I am getting to know this homestead - finding my way through all the required tasks to keep the wilds at bay.  It is quiet work I am finding.  Each piece of wood that I stack, each apple gathered from the ancient trees growing in the orchard, each acorn or pinecone or flower added to the collection,  has the power to centre my thoughts on the moment.

I am humbled as I bare witness to the forces at work on this planet.  It is all so much bigger than us.

 

Turn, turn, turn

Signs of change are afoot.  The meadow flowers that have been my markers of time since our move to this place are currently holding strong on goldenrod and asters.

Two of my favourite family members are now off on their own adventures far away from here. Leaving but one close enough to be the willing recipient of daily and somewhat claustrophobic motherly love - for a little longer anyway.  I have been down this road a couple of times now.  I know the inevitability of change.

I know it and grapple with it.  Each change of this magnitude leaves me scrambling to find my footing once again.  Figuring out how to be the Mama that I have always been despite the readying of wings for flight seems an impossible task.  This craft is one I have been working on and sometimes perfecting for 21 years.  And while some aspects of this role stay the same , most become glaringly different.  

And yet, this knowledge I can shoulder.  The hard part is the hole that is left in my days.  Not to mention my heart.  

Digging it

Let me introduce you to my trusty sidekick of late...Madame Shovel.  Seeing me through the shoulder crunching task of digging a garden in terrain where bedrock presents itself quite close to the surface.  

 After creating the above space with an eye towards next years kitchen garden, my focus shifted to next years veggie beds.  It is mind-blowing to me that on a homestead of this size there is no existing vegetable garden.  

Building on what I knew about the bedrock situation, there was never any question that raised beds were the way to go for this homestead.  And the Hugelkultur method seemed like a perfect fit, with lots of fodder to build up the viability and soil quality within the beds.  

 With plenty of cardboard on hand (an unexpected perk of moving and an opportunity to practice gratitude for little things), a row of poplars along the front of our property and acres of grass to be cut the beds were started.

With a couple of visits to our pals and neighbors at Milkhouse Dairy on the horizon, the compost aspect of this process shall be covered...literally.  Then a wee bit of topsoil and a cover crop of buckwheat and Phase 1 of the veggie garden is ready for next Spring.

Except for the fencing.  But, for the moment I live in the land of denial on that subject.

Scenes from a County Road

Well.  We have landed.  And have begun the joyful task of making this house feel like home.

Slowly we are getting a hang of this.  If ever there was an opportunity to learn and practice patience surely it is now.   

Be back soon.

Distraction

There is nothing pretty about my surroundings as of late.  Nothing around that reminds me that it is I who live in this house.  Only boxes.  And packing paper.  An errant tape gun.  

No sewing projects.  No knitting on the go.  As a matter of fact, there is not a single shred of any creative processes at work around these parts.  

My one shining light of distraction from the last few weeks was a trip to the stable where Hazel rides.  

So.  I give you these.  Proof that there is a life during moving prep.  And proof that I am still here. Eager to get back to this space....just a little more tape gun wrangling and I should be good.

Buckwheat and my unravelling resolve

Well folks.  Let it be said that I tried.  From the early days of 2015 I had regular talks with myself about the importance of remaining present in the moment that is.....from the rising to the setting of the sun.  Enjoy these city days for they are numbered I said.   Be mindful of each time you walk to the grocery store or bike to work.    Take in the peace of mind that comes from your 9 year old roaming the neighborhood with her pals - unhurried and enjoying this stage of being a kid.  The ease with which a drink or dinner with friends comes to pass - as spontaneously as things happen when there are kids and families involved anyway.

The arrival of my buckwheat cover crop seeds yesterday marked the end of that.  

(Buckwheat cover crop seeds from Ferme Tournesol)

Suddenly, or not so suddenly if I am being honest with myself, I am gone.  I am thinking of how many raised beds I can get built and how fast.  I am hatching plans in my head about what I can grow this season despite a June 30 moving date.  I am reading about hugelkultur because surely there will be plenty of supplies strewn around to try this gardening process on for size.

I am here.  I am going through my days as I always have.  But with my eyes trained on the finish line...or the starting line depending on how I look at it.

Melancholy and the Infinite Gladness

Little wonder that a touch of melancholy came rolling through this morning along with the chilly winds and rainclouds.  It is hard coming back down to the everyday after a perfectly perfect weekend.

That said, the feeling passes through with the wave that accompanies the acknowledgement of all that I am and all that I have.  From where I stand the future stretches out with many ups and without a doubt an equal number of downs.   But there is a good solid base on which we stand.   Whether present in body or spirit we are together.  

And for that I am infinitely glad.

Happy Monday.xo

 

Best laid plans

Traditionally, the introduction of sunshine and warmth to my days is accompanied by a compulsion to start digging around in the dirt.  With the first daffodil and bloodroot blooms comes the trigger to get those kale, chard and pea seeds planted.

This year, despite the 150 acre homestead where I will soon hang my hat, marks a bit of a blip in the normal sequence of things.  The fact that a moving date of June 30 looms remains at the forefront of things and guides my days.  Besides the reality of there only being 24 hours in a day, a moving date so early in summer does not make for much in the way of harvest potential. Potted plants are it for me this season.  Although I do admit to holding fast to my thought that I can get at least some of the planned garden beds built which would allow for a late crop of greens once we move.  

Because I need a focus...or maybe a distraction I am lining up my plans for inside our new home. While I would absolutely consider myself a planner, these manifestations of my lists are beyond my normal scope of lined scrap paper lists.  Like I said, I need distraction.

Upstairs bathroom. 

Living Room

At the risk of appearing a wee bit obsessive let me just offer this....after a lifetime of waiting for the execution of this dream the last two months of waiting are making me twitchy.  We are so very close now.