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fondlyfoldingchairs
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Name: Roux
Gender: Female
Interests: forests, groves, jungles, parks, thickets, timberland, trees, wealds, woods, hinterlands, ponds, rivers, seas, oceans, tides, the briny deep, lakes, brooks, creeks, watercourses, rills, rindles, runnels, fold belts, mountains, hills, valleys, dales, trails, orchards, horticulture, forestry, plains, prairies, canyons, glens, gorges, swales, swamplands, bogs, marshes, glades, fens, mires, moors, channels, morass', quagmires, arboretums, ranches, grasslands, farms, acreages, gardens...
Expertise: bibliophilism, hoydenism
Message: message me
Member Since:
7/9/2003
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| Lookie here, ya'll. I've moved. heapsofbirds.blogspot.com. Come see me. | | |
| The wind caught my seat belt, sending it thumping madly against my chest, and I seriously thought it was my heart escaping.
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| I have problems with Winter. Snarly, snarky, surly problems. I don't like feeling this way. Especially when, honestly, I love the way the weather looks. The sky around the farm is so amazingly deep. Great gusty gray clouds burling through. And the pasture is all dried and golden brown, and it sings in the wind. How is this not contentment? I have been so happy at the farm in a real, easy, normal sort of way. The occasional serious, stomach-turning glimpse of joy has made the aware of it. But now, with the short days and the dark rain, I sit there sad, watching the cottonwood lose its leaves. I wonder if maybe I should be medicated during this time? Would it make me more even? Would I still be able to write like I write now which is something I love? Would I still see the contrasts? I think maybe I will just take this time, this nasty season, with its yearning and its ill-fitting daily tasks, because it makes me aware of how much of me wants to just pick up and leave at any given moment. It is good to know yourself.
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| Oh my how life does sway. Like the rye grass amid the crimson clover. There have been days where we sweat through our clothes. And days when the work seems too hard, or the sleep insufficient, or the reward too far off. But then the wind starts to blow and the temperature drops and I get to put my sweater on and go for a walk down the farm lane. I've been reading a lot of short stories lately. Such an amazing genre. And I have been spending a great deal of time with some spectacular people. I am happy still. | | |
| So it has been over a month and I thought perhaps it was time to jot down a quick bit of info. I am soooo busy!! And happy. The farm is good and busy and productive and the weather has had me loving my life a lot. I have decided to stay on the farm a while longer. Possibly through June, so happy am I. I was listening to Starflyer 59's "fell in love at 22" the other day and chuckled to myself at how old 22 used to seem. And here I am, 24!! Then I realized that I purchased that album when I was 15. So yeah, 22 would seem a way off. Such a long way off, come and gone. Made me a bit nostalgic. Pecan harvesting is upon us. I shovel huge shovelfuls of leaves, sticks, pecans, and spiders into the hopper of this big sorting machine. And I feel strong and a bit like a sailor shoveling coal on a ship. And then I move to the other side and diligently pick out bad pecans from good and feel transported back to the industrial revolution, or maybe I just feel like Lucy in the chocolate factory, stuffing pecans into my pockets. Life is good. Et tu? | | |
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