Pig and farm report

this morning I drove to the beach in deep deep fog where I saw three seal pups frolicking close to the docks one seal bobbing up and down the other two swimming in loopy strokes out in a V then back in close to the third a great blue heron stood motionless watching them and a kingfisher stood on the pilings I watched this magik until the heron decided the seal pups were interrupting her fishing and she flew off squawking which I have never in my livelong life heard before a terrible trumpet an ancient sound as she scolded the pups the kingfisher stayed in her place unperturbed her dry trill echoing out over the water

I came home then lit a fire and split my first acorn squash of the season rubbed olive oil and salt and pepper into its orange flesh and put it in the oven it will make four meals once I stuff the halves with mushrooms and onions and apple and sharp cheddar cheese and cranberries and brown rice plus fresh thyme and garlic chives that miraculously appeared in my herb garden after the last rain

I'm working on Tom's second interview question it has taken me way too long distracted as I was by my book which for now is blissfully out of my hands

this is a small report but I am sane and happy and once I finish Tom's question today I'm going to read a bit and fill up my already brimming well

I am thinking for the near future of writing a short story again I've written ten but I threw all but one away when I moved I love the form and I think it is more difficult than a novel

happy October Darklings may you have frogs and owls and warm blankets or working air conditioning wherever you are and all the orange food you need

Love

Pig and farm report

yesterday I drove to the flatbed truck that sits loaded with fresh picked corn next to the Skagit River this will be the last week for corn as the fields are mowed down to their blond nubs I bought eight ears of corn for a buck and on the way back I saw a young fox standing in one of those mown fields his ears pricked forward tail straight out quivering

this morning I made corn chowder and raked as many pine needles off the path as I could then raked the sugar maple leaves and covered my gardens with them gold wet blankets for winter

the light here is spectacular
I practiced Bach for hours this afternoon reclaiming my neglected soul
I am a musician again
I am

2.

Incandescent joy then a galloping panicattackoutofnowhere with an Ativan chaser here at Summer’s End where the fun never stops

Miraculeux

yesterday I finished Queer Wing-ed

this morning I printed it and read it all the way through and honestly I was stunned by how it moved me how good it was how much of my life to took to write 30,491 words 151 pages the thousands and thousands of miles I traveled from Seattle to Chicago from Seattle to New Hampshire from Seattle to Vermont from Vermont to New York then from Seattle to New York again and back all those miles all those words all those years nine years this summer

at 1:04 this afternoon I sent it to my publisher of choice

then I ate a celebration bagel

I want desire need a bigger celebration but for right now I'm enjoying the echo emptiness of my once haunted brain for right now I'm rolling across that wide open prairie in my head like a dog in mud for right now I am full of thanks for all of you for taking this weird journey with me thank you

thank you

thank you

and you and you and you

Hi.

I knew the entire world was dangerous when I was four years old

I knew dangerous men were in control of everything when I was nine years old

I knew the planet was one giant drunken frat house when I was thirteen years old and that has not changed 

I am mostly quiet right now and sane waiting for my oatmeal to cook waiting for the courage I need to open my pc and finish up my mess ie my mss

it smells amazing here on the island

I got a flu shot yesterday

I have nothing to write just checking in with my own head hi hello Darklings and love

ps.

what I really wanted to write below is that these rituals the ritual of oats the ritual of fire the ritual of garden the ritual of the Animal Gods are the things that mean contentment to me when I am level when I am not having an [episode :: I loathe that word] when I am neither depressed nor manic nor rapid cycling because when I am sick the rituals fall apart they are swept up in a storm of terrible strength and rapid destruction
I lose sight I lose everything
each time

and so oatmeal and cats and weeds and owls and apples have become church
they buoy me

Pig and farm report

the Queen is in and she's judging Amerika harshly

in other news it is raining hard end of the world rain I was going to go to the bait & tackle for some yogurt and bread but I have oats and figs (yes figs!!!) and road eggs and soup that I made last winter and yeast and flour and sugar and butter and I can make my own damn bread so today I am not going any damn where

now that the temps are in the 30s in the morning I have a very small ritual

I get up at 6 AM put 3/4 cup of water into my wee 1&1/2 quart crock pot (I believe it is the world's smallest crock pot one of the originals) along with 1 cut up apple a few sultanas a pinch of salt some cinnamon and 1/4 cup of Irish steel cut oats then I plug the ancient little thing in and go back to bed to read until 8 AM and then I get back up eat the oatmeal with brown sugar and a splash of milk and watch Leave it to Beaver on one of the ghost channels

I believe I will stick to this ritual throughout winter

I have the fire going but have yet to turn on the heat
this morning I woke with a kitten under each armpit and Jupiter purring away on my chest her cat machine running like the exquisite engine it is I was a Jesus Animal crucified on my own bed with claws heat and the softest fur imaginable

I am happy
I am writing
I am freaked out

this isn't much of a report
I have no idea what I was going to write when I first started this blog post

hello Darklings
it is October

the owl is still in my tree

Pig and farm report

yesterday morning I walked down the hall toward my bedroom and noticed my floor was damp my beauty deep blue new carpet wet wet danger once I got to my bedroom I noticed it was even wetter by the bathroom and I saw water droplets on the tiles there and I dropped to my knees in a panic feeling the very wet carpet there panic panic panic patting the rug feeling the water I knew the pipes under the house had collapsed I knew the ceiling in the bathroom was leaking the roof had caved in I knew the water heater had busted and flowed from my closet into the rest of the house I knew the washing machine had given up the ghost and walked full of water down my hall into my bedroom leaking its guts

it turns out that Wolfie had fallen in the full tub and she shot out of there down the hall then back to hide and dry herself under my bed

it turns out that my closet which houses the water heater was perfectly dry

it turns out that my son was in his room and then he found me on the floor patting the rug crying in a panic

it turns out everything was okay

this is what PTSD looks like

*

after that I invented a recipe for carameled apple cinnamon rolls with cream cheese and vanilla and cointreau frosting which turned out to be OH MY GOD delicious though next time I'll only use half as much sugar on the dough before I roll it up here is what they looked like before their second rise

and here is how they looked right after I put the frosting on before it melted down into the rolls

while I was making them I cut my thumb deeply on a brand new paring knife which I bought specifically for apple season and now I need to figure out how I made them retrace my steps and write down the recipe because they were amazing

*

last night I walked outside for a minute and there was the owl in the foliage under an ancient tree in front of my house he looked at me and I stopped breathing then he looked around then down as if he were about to kill something helpless then he looked back at me and then flew up and over my head so close I felt him in my hair it is the same owl oh god do I have an owl friend now oh god a forest gift

I have been depressed for a while but this morning I was able to read some poetry and in other poetry news I had a poem accepted for a magazine it will be the last poem the zine ever publishes as they can no longer afford to keep afloat

it was 37 degrees when I woke this morning
nothing was wrong with my beautiful house
I had the first oatmeal of the season with rich gold sultanas and brown sugar

Hello Darklings from the magik forest and love