I’m having epiphanies all over the place.
This has been a Season of Milestones, and while I have been appreciating, I have also been re-evaluating, and have concluded that I’ve made a lot of mistakes. I’m going to fix that. Here’s how:
1. I’ve made this blog too hard for me. I started it as a communication device, quickly found it was also a source of solace, and then proceeded to sabotage that last fact. I added “Field Notes” and “Field Photo,” thinking I needed those two widgets, and not only do I not need them, but I think no one reading this blog does either. And they take a lot of time and thought. So this blog will feature the last of the notes from the field. I will take the more honest tack from now on: I’m writing inside, not out in the field.
2. I don’t like deadheading petunias. It’s a lot of work, and I don’t like petunias all that much anyway. I bought them because we were eager to spiff-up the outside of our house for an event, and they were the closet blooms at hand at the garden store. I regret my moment of weakness that resulted in a season’s worth of annoying upkeep. These are the last petunias I will ever serve.
3. I write for others for pay, but I need to write for myself, too. So I will frequent this blog more often, and I’m going to start that manuscript (whatever form it will take) that has been disturbing my sleep for the last several months. It wants Out.
4. I need to decide if I am a hobby farmer, just horsing around, or a farmer that raises enough food to feed her family. After the third season in a row of a pea and spinach harvest that literally resulted in one meal for the family, I am done feeling foolish. I think the right plan is to buy a lot more seed and plant the entire garden in peas and spinach at the first opportunity. If I start the peas and spinach earlier, and start my peppers and tomatoes indoors later, I believe I can coordinate the Crop Timing so that by the time I harvest the peas and spinach, it will be time to plant out the warm-weather seedlings. I would like to have enough peas to feel rich.
5. Water is Nature’s artistic toolbox. We had a torrential downpour yesterday. My early morning walk through the woods with the dogs found the sandy path adorned with swirled pine needles, as if painted with a water paintbrush, and rippled sand carved with Nature’s water-sculpting chisel and mallet.
6. Husband and I are planning to leave New York, our home for the past 37 years, and move to Maine sometime in the next few years. We cannot bear the high taxes any longer, and are turning our face to an area that is more rugged in climate and demeanor, but gentler monetarily. As I have always found finances to be ferocious, and hated hot weather, I realize that my true place is in Maine. I look forward to weather that can be accommodated with an additional warm layer of clothing, and to financial peace of mind. A sign at one entrance to the state says, “Maine. The Way Life Should Be.” I suspect that’s correct.
I’ll share photos in my next post. This time I just needed to talk.
Moving? Wonderful, Scary, and a whole new world. Best thing I ever did, and sure hope it works out well for you too.
And honey, there is no such thing as enough peas………
: )
Thank you for the atta–girl about moving. You’re right, it is wonderful and scary, especially since for the first time we are not making the move to create an environment for our children. I confess I will be hoping to choose a place that will be attractive for them to visit us with their families (grandkids!), but this is almost entirely about my husband and me. Haven’t thought like that in….21 years!
And peas?! Oh yeah, I’m dreaming of abundance instead of meagerness. How lovely if I didn’t have to share! 🙂
Bravo Amy. This is a great epiphany for you and a model for the rest of us. Thanks.
Thank you for these kind words!! I appreciate it so much, Sue!