Saturday, June 2, 2018

chickens, boxes, saying goodbye

I haven't posted in a while because goings on at mystic cedars have been a little fragmented.  Some things are consistent.... Chickens are roaming the grounds and kids are showing up to feed them.     Herbs are being cut and dried. I've been using the dehydrator for them but, I have to admit, I miss the sight and smell of herbs  hanging in the corner to dry.  Because I have such a quantity I will continue to use the machine but I am going to hang some for the  aesthetic of it. Its salmonberry season so  I have gathered  a few bags to put in the freezer until  baby sis wants to  do a jelly making marathon again.   While I remember my grandmothers making jams and jellies in hot kitchens on hot days , I have the luxury of being able to  store fruits  until a pleasant, cool day comes along.   Same with soap. Wait for a nice cool day but not so cold I cant leave the doors open. I'm  very fortunate to live in the PNW.  That was reaffirmed recently  when Jimmy's  sister got married.  The wedding was in Vegas.  It was a very nice wedding.  The bride was very thoughtful of her guests needs.  But as lovely as it was I found myself  seriously missing trees  and....water.   I have discovered  that living in western Washington with our perfect water has spoiled me.  No matter where I go ...everyone Else's water tastes, well, awful.   I know their water is fine to drink but it doesn't matter, It still makes my nose crinkle .  All the protections we have put in place are worth it to have  fresh, sweet tap water on demand.
Part of the fragmentation is that I have been  assisting  Feral Jane   with cleaning  out her parents home. This has been a tough one.  I  grew up and grew to  adulthood  and middle age with  that home always present and always  consistent.  I'm sure Jane got annoyed with me every time she tried to  box something up and I  screeched 'NOOOOO' .  It took me a while to recognize  that it wasn't the Christmas decorations I was trying to save but  the security  of what they represent. In the last 40 years, no matter where I have gone, what I have done, what kind of trouble I have gotten myself into  that little red house has always been there as a stabilizing influence. Its changed over the years but not too much.  The fence that I backed the car up on, when I was 17 (the grownups had to  call a tow truck to get it off the fence) is long gone.  But the mail box that I missed by inches is still there.  The color of the bathroom has changed many times  but the full length mirror  is still showing my  reflection.  When  I see  the silver hair  reflected back at me I also see  the  15 year old in the  blue eye shadow  carefully primping  in that mirror  before a trip  to  Seattle.  All the meals ever served in that kitchen are still lingering in my head.   As well as the conversations at that table. That was where I expressed my  woes, over coffee, while  going through a divorce in my 30's. The dining room was  where I got a take down lecture on   letting my  teen age son make own his choices about his future. The little red house is full of  my joy, silliness,  delusion, pain, grief,  righteousness  and embarrassment.  Its also  a place of  making many  decisions.  Some of those decisions were really big like 'which path do I take now?"   or 'how do I fix this monumental mess'   But most of them were small 'do I want  vinaigrette or thousand island dressing'  'Do I bring a jacket?'  'should I wear jeans or a dress?.  And now that is all passing away.  Over the last 8 months I  have been through all the emotional phases over the end of an era and now I am left with  simple gratitude.  Not everyone gets the comfort and stability of  the little red house.  But I did.  I had  that grounding  in  an otherwise wild and sometimes turbulent life.  It  always held me in place,  brought me back to center.   I am grateful.  And now I can help fill the boxes.

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