Artemis...

 Thank you, dear girl.  I will never forget you.

Moving On

This morning the house was quiet, as if normal.  It caught my attention enough that I just sat down and listened to it. I've had so many things to do these last few months--students to teach, clients to see, a house to sell, boxes to pack.  My only writing has been in the form of daily lists on sticky notes.  It's felt good to let go of the words.  But here they are again, emerging out of the morning's pause, a bit awkward, a bit unintentional.

The house is nearly empty.  We arrived here all at once but have left slowly over the years, each of us going one at a time. As I looked out across the morning hill, I heard the echoes of so many stories here--young girls who grew up so well, beloved pets who died here, birthday and graduation celebrations, summer camps and trampoline talks, stories of joy and of grief, of deer and foxes and of birds on the feeders, of proms, pianos, parties, and partings...

I let the stories unfold in my memory. There are so many I cherish. As I sat, I silently thanked this house for holding so much of our lives within its walls these last fourteen years, and for being both gracious and sturdy during good times and bad.  As I gather the last bits and traces of our former lives here, it is a peaceful parting.  We are all done here--our work finished. Our memories come along with us while we leave small treasures behind--stones and seashells, a bird house or two, the tire swing.  May many happy stories unfold in the next chapter of this house's life.  May hope and happiness thrive here.

As I move on, I am eager to learn some new routines and to make new discoveries. What will work and what won't?  What did I get rid of that I need and what don't I need that I kept? I have no idea what's ahead but I'm not too worried. I packed hope and courage in one of the boxes.  It's here, somewhere.

See you down the road.

River Birch

I didn't feel like writing these last couple of months, and so I didn't.  I loved letting it go even though I did miss it.  Over the summer I made hundreds of mental notes of dog moments and landscape moments to write down...and then I'd let them go. I enjoyed doing that. It was enough to simply notice things.  I knew I'd come back here though I wasn't sure when or why or what might spark it (or if I even should) and that was ok.

The other day when I was playing with Otis his ball rolled under an amazing tree. As I stood under its leaves I was quickly taken by the orangey-golden glow of the trunk and the filtered sun beams coming through its branches. The papery ruffled gown that formed the trunk was so magnificent that I nearly thanked it out loud for its beauty and jubilance.  If trees have personalities (I tell myself they do), then this one was as friendly as it was whimsical.  We circled the tree many times, admiring its way of being--both playful and profound.  We then quietly resumed our game, as if all this had been just another ordinary moment.

I simply had to tell you about it.

Have a Camel

It's Farm Day today--a very exciting occasion at Springdell Farm--and the heat is so oppressive that I thought I was seeing things when I saw Joshua-the-Camel grazing in the field.  I wandered over to say hello and he was quite perky and very friendly, in a camel-y sort of way.  Joshua was quick to show me his many talents, including a few impressive camel acrobatics which included balancing on just his knees, rolling onto his back and circling his four legs through the air and finally, folding his front legs into a lotus position while stretching his very long, flexible neck to eat the grass behind him.  It was really quite spellbinding! I felt as if I was watching a great camel yogi (or something equally magnificent) performing his morning rituals.  Joshua knew I was impressed and as he batted those big eyelashes at me, I could tell by the sparkle in his eye that he was thoroughly enjoying the attention--and is perhaps a bit used to it!  I asked him for a few pictures and he immediately began to offer me wonderful poses.  He seems particularly happy with his mouth and with each picture, he made sure that it would figure prominently.  His beauty--so fierce, wouldn't you say?

I left Farm Day with a box of beautiful raspberries, sweet corn, fingerling potatoes, tomatoes, honey, and zucchini.  Even better, I forgot about the heat and humidity. After all, Joshua-the-Camel is the essence of cool.

Check out all the activities at Farm Day today!  Say hello to Joshua and meet Patty Pig, a true celebrity.  http://www.springdellfarms.com/

Happy Independence Day!

Otis and Mercy sing the red, white, and blues!

Doodle Doo

I'm in love (again).  This time with a rooster.  I know, I know--he's a rooster, but I love him. I think about how we are going to begin the day together, and my heart soars.  He makes a marvelously grand fuss every morning when I open the coop, carrying on as if he's been counting every single solitary minute of our time apart (and every morning I buy it). But--alas--in one fowl foul swoop he storms right by me to strut atop the can of oats and then yells (directly at me) that he wants his breakfast, and he wants it NOW.  And much to my chagrin, I hustle right over--breathlessly, no less--to get it for him.  The truth is that he's bossy and impatient, and as far as chivalry goes, well, you can forget that.  He's not particularly passionate and he's a very big show-off, but I am hopelessly undone by that magnificent comb and wattle he sports--the brightest and reddest I've ever seen.  Is he not spectacular?

And did I mention all the other girls in his midst? He's surrounded by them. Constantly.
He's killing me.  And I love him.
Long, deep sigh.

Love hurts.

How We Laughed Until We Cried

...and how I will always remember you.

Richard BeGell
1956-2012