October Blues

I always thought I liked fall, aside from that whole back-to-school nonsense. The heat of summer is no longer a threat, and western Oregon can be singularly lovely at this time of year. It's fun to get out your sweaters again. Rainy days can be an excuse to curl up and be cozy. But I've been thinking a lot about October lately, and I've started to wonder if maybe it just isn't my month.

Half a Year's Accounting

What has become of the past six months?

In April, the Handsome Communard flew to Seattle, where I met him at the airport. We headed south to visit friends and family in Oregon and Northern California, and drove all the way down to Santa Cruz for Easter.

Revisiting the Little Farm, where it all began.

Considering the Birds

I've been considering the birds
Now that the snow is finally melting, oh
They shed their winter coats
And shape and shine their yellow notes
For sun's returning
Lean forward, spread their wings
To meet the change the season brings
Oh, Spring
Welcome, please come in.

Late March view from the River House

Explorations

Yesterday was the Vernal Equinox, when days and nights are of equal length. Soon, summer days will stretch out wide and bright here in central Washington... but for now, the paths between buildings are all slushy ice and mud puddles. A little more snow fell yesterday, which made us laugh and roll our eyes: Springtime. What a card.

Does this qualify as mud-luscious?

Of Snow and Spaceships

February got quiet after the Super Bowl. Two staff members went to Haiti to teach pottery; another left for a wedding in the Austrian Alps. The other two full-time staff live off campus. So these days I find myself in the odd position of being the most seasoned resident at the Grünewald Guild, even though I just got here last month.

Grünewald garden, sleeping under snow

Significance

Today, February 2nd, third day of the Year of the Horse, is Groundhog Day. Today is Imbolc, the heart of midwinter. It is Candlemas, the feast commemorating the day that Jesus was first brought to the Temple by his parents.

December, January, and the Inbetween

At Willa's house, in November and December, I struggled to write. I banged out stilted sentences as reluctantly as if I were writing college essays on subjects I didn't care about. I seized upon a thousand distractions, brawled with my own fears of failure and success, and ultimately faced down the question: Do I want to write this book, or not?

Sometimes I went for walks on the gravel roads in Willa's neighborhood, and sometimes I found interesting things along the way: inquisitive goats, slow-moving newts, friendly abandoned vehicles.

Construction vehicle, lost in the woods