The garlic is up. The spinach has sprouted. Collards and leeks have wintered over. Daffodils, grape hyacinth, scilla siberica and wild tulips are blooming. The sky is gray today; the windows are speckled with rain. It's a day to read and bake cookies.
I need to find a new home for our horses, Gwen and KJ.
Now that Cate isn't here to care for them, it's too much.
I haven't ridden since I broke my shoulder in a fall when KJ took off at a gallop just before the opening of Pirates of Penzance last fall. (I was afraid I'd have to dance in a sling.)
I'm living alone now, and am happy to be so. To everything there is a season.
I have been reading a lot of contemporary Nigerian fiction in preparation for my trip in Septemeber. My Anthony is due to come home mid June, and I can't wait to see him.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Resurrection for Christmas
I hope this Christmas finds you healthy and happy. I am both. Joe and I continue together slowly renovating the little farmhouse, enlarging and cultivating the gardens, planting trees, building a stone fence. We’ve winnowed our livestock down to two horses, several laying hens and a rooster.
Although it feels lonely this Christmas with both Cate and Anthony in South Dakota, I've decorated my homestead with a candle in each window, fir boughs and bows in the window boxes and an enormous wreath in front of the picture window. I have been making Christmas cookies, so many, that I am getting fat.
I was able to visit Anthony in Rapid City in November to see him perform the role of “Grandpa” in You Can’t Take It With You. Lionel Barrymore couldn’t hold a candle to him. I met his friends and teachers, and the whole time there I was filled with such happiness and pride. He’s doing well academically, socially and athletically. But most of all I am proud because he’s becoming a thoughtful young man of integrity, kindness and determination. Catie flew out to SD with me to spend time with her dad, brother, sister, Alia, and Staci, Alia’s mom. Cate has taken a leave of absence from Mount Holyoke while she sorts out many things that are troubling her. It is good for her to be surrounded by the love of her SD family. She plans to return to Maine in January, and has said she’d like to return to MHC in the fall of 2011. If you remember how hard growing up can be, say a prayer for her today.
A few nights ago I watched the film, “Precious,” and I thought about how invisible most of us are to one another. We make assumptions and are dismissive of one another. I think we work to avoid relationships. For me, I sometimes don’t want to be bothered. I’m afraid the other person, if I get to know him or her, will start asking things of me, will drain my time and resources, will expect too much. This has happened. If I open myself to others, it will assuredly happen again. There are many people seeking answers, wanting to be rescued, needing to be angry and to blame, hurting.
The temptation is to withdraw into myself, into a dry comfortable cave lined with books, to greet the sunshine, grow fruit and flowers and when it rains, stay indoors making pies.
But there, when the pies are done, will it just be me to taste them? When the seedlings emerge, with whom will I share the joy? I will want to go for a walk, and on that walk, I will meet people, sentient as I, bewildering. We can wander together or simply say hello and part.
What I forget when I seek to avoid relationships is that the other always brings something too, gifts--of insight, sensation, shared emotion, comfort, many unnamed or unnameable. Even the most needy, and scared, scarred souls have gifts to share, though they may not know it. So I will try to keep a heart more open to those who pass my way. I will work to recognize when I am on the verge of a dismissive shrug, a cursory opinion, a snotty look, a judgment, and I will smile and offer a hand if there’s something I can do. I will also know that time alone is essential and nourishing, that it will enrich my soul and reconnect me to the Source of all Life and Goodness, and will allow myself, without guilt, to go away.
May you be blessed, as the Light returns, may it shine warmly and nurture you.
Although it feels lonely this Christmas with both Cate and Anthony in South Dakota, I've decorated my homestead with a candle in each window, fir boughs and bows in the window boxes and an enormous wreath in front of the picture window. I have been making Christmas cookies, so many, that I am getting fat.
I was able to visit Anthony in Rapid City in November to see him perform the role of “Grandpa” in You Can’t Take It With You. Lionel Barrymore couldn’t hold a candle to him. I met his friends and teachers, and the whole time there I was filled with such happiness and pride. He’s doing well academically, socially and athletically. But most of all I am proud because he’s becoming a thoughtful young man of integrity, kindness and determination. Catie flew out to SD with me to spend time with her dad, brother, sister, Alia, and Staci, Alia’s mom. Cate has taken a leave of absence from Mount Holyoke while she sorts out many things that are troubling her. It is good for her to be surrounded by the love of her SD family. She plans to return to Maine in January, and has said she’d like to return to MHC in the fall of 2011. If you remember how hard growing up can be, say a prayer for her today.
A few nights ago I watched the film, “Precious,” and I thought about how invisible most of us are to one another. We make assumptions and are dismissive of one another. I think we work to avoid relationships. For me, I sometimes don’t want to be bothered. I’m afraid the other person, if I get to know him or her, will start asking things of me, will drain my time and resources, will expect too much. This has happened. If I open myself to others, it will assuredly happen again. There are many people seeking answers, wanting to be rescued, needing to be angry and to blame, hurting.
The temptation is to withdraw into myself, into a dry comfortable cave lined with books, to greet the sunshine, grow fruit and flowers and when it rains, stay indoors making pies.
But there, when the pies are done, will it just be me to taste them? When the seedlings emerge, with whom will I share the joy? I will want to go for a walk, and on that walk, I will meet people, sentient as I, bewildering. We can wander together or simply say hello and part.
What I forget when I seek to avoid relationships is that the other always brings something too, gifts--of insight, sensation, shared emotion, comfort, many unnamed or unnameable. Even the most needy, and scared, scarred souls have gifts to share, though they may not know it. So I will try to keep a heart more open to those who pass my way. I will work to recognize when I am on the verge of a dismissive shrug, a cursory opinion, a snotty look, a judgment, and I will smile and offer a hand if there’s something I can do. I will also know that time alone is essential and nourishing, that it will enrich my soul and reconnect me to the Source of all Life and Goodness, and will allow myself, without guilt, to go away.
May you be blessed, as the Light returns, may it shine warmly and nurture you.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Early Vegetarian Days
My first vegetarian foray, an ode to vanity, took place freshman year of college.
I’d packed my favorite thrift store jeans, locked the door on my shabby, furnished single room apartment, and stepped into the cloistered, rarified atmosphere of a private school campus. Once in my room, I took another look at my work-study assignment: Main Cafeteria, and felt sick. A greasy face and hairnet would not improve my social life.
By Monday morning I’d hatched a plan.
“I can’t be around meat. I won’t touch it,” I told the woman in charge of listening to student job complaints.
I went further.
“I’m ethically opposed to it. I’ve been vegetarian for years. I’ve already checked with the cafeteria; there are no jobs that don’t involve contact with meat.”
She looked weary, sighed, and said she’d be in touch. Two days later I was reassigned to develop negatives of histoplasmosis cells in a city hospital dark room.
My lie haunted me. Convinced that I was being watched, I avoided looking at the hamburgers as I passed through the cafeteria line and left the Bacos off my salad. Thank god, I hadn’t told them I was vegan. Three months later I abandoned all caution and ate a chicken sandwich. From there on out, it was meat and gravy.
I’d packed my favorite thrift store jeans, locked the door on my shabby, furnished single room apartment, and stepped into the cloistered, rarified atmosphere of a private school campus. Once in my room, I took another look at my work-study assignment: Main Cafeteria, and felt sick. A greasy face and hairnet would not improve my social life.
By Monday morning I’d hatched a plan.
“I can’t be around meat. I won’t touch it,” I told the woman in charge of listening to student job complaints.
I went further.
“I’m ethically opposed to it. I’ve been vegetarian for years. I’ve already checked with the cafeteria; there are no jobs that don’t involve contact with meat.”
She looked weary, sighed, and said she’d be in touch. Two days later I was reassigned to develop negatives of histoplasmosis cells in a city hospital dark room.
My lie haunted me. Convinced that I was being watched, I avoided looking at the hamburgers as I passed through the cafeteria line and left the Bacos off my salad. Thank god, I hadn’t told them I was vegan. Three months later I abandoned all caution and ate a chicken sandwich. From there on out, it was meat and gravy.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
And further more...it's tasty.
Since deciding to commit to eliminating food and material goods derived from animal cruelty, torture and killing, I've been experimenting with new recipes: sauteed hominy, sweet red peppers and broccoli, veggie quiche, spiced dahl, tabouli. It's been a while since I threw herbs and spices around so liberally or with such flair.
I've begun mixing Oakhurst skim with soy milk, and have sent Oakhurst an email to learn whether they receive any milk from factory farms and what requirements they have to ensure farmers' cows are well treated. I can't use dairy unless I know, and even then, what about calves born to bring on lactation? I don't see how it can be done.
I've begun mixing Oakhurst skim with soy milk, and have sent Oakhurst an email to learn whether they receive any milk from factory farms and what requirements they have to ensure farmers' cows are well treated. I can't use dairy unless I know, and even then, what about calves born to bring on lactation? I don't see how it can be done.
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