There has been a lot of good lately here on the homestead. The BPO (broker price opinion) has been done on one house offer. Nothing gets done until the BPO is done so, three months after we put in that offer, we might just start moving forward.
The garden is looking awesome. We’ve eaten some radishes, nibbled a little lettuce, and fried up a handful of collards. The only real loss so far is the arugula which was planted from dicey seeds, so my expectations weren’t high. Most everything else is in the ground – the beans, okra and continual lettuce sowings are almost all that remain. Today I packed up leftover seed-starting mix and plant trays. I packed most of the seeds into the depths of the refrigerator and noted with a small degree of sadness that a big chunk – seed starting – of the growing season is already done for the year.
Morel season has not proved very fruitful for us this year. Once again, rain is eluding us and the mushrooms – and a great deal else – are suffering mightily for it.
The weather is warm and I feel like a caterpillar breaking from the cocoon as I take out my ghostly limbs and bare them to the heat of the sun. I feel relief, happiness along with a little bit of sheepishness, baring all that skin.
But I’m still feeling dizzy, restless, discontent. With all the growing and greenery and the heavy scent of lilacs in the air, I still can’t believe all that remains of mi papa is packed, powdered, in a box in my aunt’s house. I can’t find my bearings, my direction, any sense of grounding. I am spinning internally, like a top going and going and going. My brain whirring and whistling and churning. I long for a sense of stillness and calm, to find the eye of my own storm. I suspect part of the problem is my own endless curiosity, my unending appetite for discovery. I cannot find time to calm myself because every uncommitted moment is filled with questions needing answers, repetition needing repeating. There is too much I want to do, so very much I want to learn, so many processes to understand. I think part of what I need to do is take a heavy-handled ax to the list of hobbies. But the thought of cutting off my creative outlets is unbearable. It’s painful, but probably beneficial like a solid pruning to redirect energy where I want it to go. But I can’t. I just don’t know where to start. Quitting my job feels like the most logical thing, but I can’t exactly do that.
I need more time, more energy, more organization, more focus. I need less negativity, less stress, less complication. I am starting to understand why people read enlightenment and self-help books.