Sunday, February 16, 2014

On THIS Particular Sunday...(A Brief Synopsis)

It's about 9:30 a.m.  The house is quiet, and my husband and I are enjoying coffee and watching the birds that come to our backyard feeder.  The coffee is nothing fancy, no flavors, froths, whips or caramel drizzle, just reliable old Eight o'clock brand whole bean Dark Italian Roast and Great Value non-dairy creamer.  Coffee snobs, we are not.

The feeder, like the coffee, is nothing fancy either.  Rickety, weathered grey, with suet holders on each end of it, this cedar feeder was old and decrepit when I acquired it, and I've had it about 11 years.  The birds don't care.  As long as it has food, they really don't give a shit about what it looks like.

Over the last two days, we have been graced with our normal visitors that we see nearly year round.  Cute Tufted Titmice, (what a name!), vibrant Cardinals, Blue Jays, with their striking blue, white and black feathers, Slate-colored Junco, Black Capped Chickadees, Nuthatches, Mourning Doves, a sparrow of some sort, as well as Downy and Red-bellied Woodpeckers.

We were excited yesterday when a huge Piliated Woodpecker landed in some Shumate (?) trees in our back yard.  These trees have some sort of seed cluster into winter, and judging by the ones already stripped bare, I'm guessing that they are a source for this bird.  I got a few somewhat fuzzy shots with my iPhone, but they were clear enough to see that it was a female, Hopefully, this Spring, she'll nest.  We saw her twice, so it's a pretty good indication that she stays in this area.

Piliated's are shy birds, about crow-sized, maybe 17 inches tall.  They have a wide range, most of the Continental U.S., actually, but are seldom seen as they prefer deep woods.

12:47 p.m.

The sun keeps making brief appearances, ducking back behind clouds like a shy child.  I'm trying to enjoy the view from my little office, but it's hard when it's overcast and the ground is snow covered.  Sigh.  

Finally got around to fixing some breakfast, while he tinkered around on the guitar.  Sausage patties, eggs, toast, milk for him, coffee for me.  More bird watching.  Cleaned up the kitchen, loaded the dishwasher and started it.  Load of whites in the wash.  Cut up for stir fry, a big sirloin steak.  It's currently marinating in Teriyaki sauce in the fridge.   I have some Asian veggies to mix with it and then serve it over fragrant Jasmine rice.  Be good in my lunch tomorrow, too.

He's snoring to NASCAR on the TV.  I'm pensively, sporadically, trying to write, just feeling distracted.  I know there's a big package of loin chops that needs divied up and frozen, as well as a small pork loin roast.  There's more laundry to be done.  There's books to gather up to take back to the library tomorrow, things to get ready to take to work in the morning.  Again, SIGH...

4:23 p.m.

Didn't divvy up the chops and roast.  Half the laundry is done, but did get books bagged up.  Have to start dinner soon...

5:18 p.m.

Adding music to a USB drive for my truck.  Seriously have to start dinner as soon as I'm done with this.  

7:43 p.m.

Dinner was delicious.  Will definitely have to fix again.  Laundry is just about done.  My goal of doing only basic chores today, not getting dressed, and fixing a good dinner were accomplished.  Life is good, is sweet, right here in this moment.  And this moment.  And this....you get the picture.

All that's left is to get a shower in and relax for a few before heading to bed.   

Anxiety Abounds

Really not having a good day today. Anxiety abounds.  I've been off work for 10 days, if you count the weekends.  I slept poorly last night, waking roughly every hour.  

Thoughts on Motherhood

 

A very lovely friend of mine recently posted an article about motherhood.  ("Why Being a Mother is Enough', found on finding joy.net).  I have to say, this article made me feel claustrophobic, restricted, trapped.  I get that the little things are great, and yes, I really enjoyed doing things with my kids, (like my poor husband, who came home one day to all three of us covered in mud from having a mud fight in the yard after a heavy rain), but overall, the whole concept, I just don't understand how motherhood is the be-all and end-all of everything.  I'm not knocking it, by no means, and my hats are off to women who feel motherhood is their calling, but personally, for me I just don't get it.  I couldn't wait till I could get them both in school and be able to breathe, to have some freedom, to go to work and have a least some semblance of independence.  I was very much a fish out of water.

 

I'm too much of a free spirit I guess.  Motherhood to me was rewarding but also something to be endured.  I suppose it's also due to the fact that I was an only child, and that I grew up a tomboy on a farm, spending my time out of school doing farm chores, riding or roaming the woods.  Of course, I didn't just stay on our 76 acres.  I roamed about 200 (it was a very rural area in the 70's). My dad was an O-T-R trucker, my mom took care of the house, I did what I felt like doing after chores.  Fish, hike, wander the creeks catching minnows and finding cool rocks and fossils, ride my horse, pick berries, hunt mushrooms, or just lay in a pasture and watch the clouds by day or the moon and stars by night...

 

It was very, very hard for me to lose that freedom and become a stuck in the house, tied down mother.  I didn't have to work back then, so I had the time to take them to museums and parks and such.  Nothing even remotely close to the same freedom I had, but better than being cooped up in a house all the time, like a bird in a cage, yearning to be free and fly, which is what I felt like most of the time.  I'm still the same way.  I hate being responsible for anyone but myself, and I've never had a problem being alone, solitude is a wonderful thing, a creative Muse, my inner twin, my dark moon side. 

 

Looking at old family papers and photos,  I see that I come from a long line of strong minded, independent, forward thinking women on my mother's side of the family.  (I know nothing of my bio-dad's family and history).  My great-great-great-great grandparents immigrated to Nova Scotia in Canada and then in Maine, Massachusetts and Rhode Island in America throughout the 1700's and 1800's, They all lived in rugged places, grew their own food, sewed their own clothes.  And they passed down that independence and love of Nature.
  

And yes, they raised children, too. Back in the 1800's and early 1900's, what else could a woman do but marry and have children?  But still, you can see and feel that rebel soul shine through society's shackles.  I have a picture of my grandmother in pants, airman's bomber jacket, jack boots, and a wool cap, posing for a pic with students from the college before a hike. Most pics are of her in very proper dresses, low heels, gloves, typical 1930's women's clothes, so to see her real soul makes this one of my favorite pics of her.  So, I come by my rebellious free spirit honestly, and I love that. I wouldn't change that for anything.  How could you change your soul, anyway?

 

My grandmother, front row on the right.


As the only child, I didn't have time for girlie things.  I had chores.  There were cattle, horses, chickens, ducks, pigeons, geese, dogs and cats to be fed. Eggs to be gathered, fence lines to be checked.  I raised and broke to ride my own horse.  I helped put up cross fencing, helped my dad cut, split and stack wood, helped in the garden and the orchard.  I learned and did things that made me strong, physically and mentally, and I learned to value those things.  Mom did the housework, I took care of the farm chores when dad was on the road, which was most of the time, from the time I was about 8 until they divorced when I was 16.  It's no wonder then, that I simply cannot understand how being a mom is somehow "enough".  Why I don't get how wonderful and fulfilling it is.  It just feels so damn restrictive and unsatisfying to me, who had absolute freedom growing up.
  

I don't think I'm abnormal, or selfish.  It's who I am.  Something that cannot be changed.  I'm not saying I don't like kids.  Babies are OK in my book, I just don't get all mushy and goofy over them.  (Puppies?  That'll get me every time, especially puppy breath.  Babies?  I don't smell what everyone else does.  Again, just don't get it).  Older toddlers are fun to be around, especially outdoors, because they really start to have an imagination and a desire to learn about the world around them.  I like to show kids how things work and to point out things they don't notice and tell them about them.  Like ants working together to carry something.  Or a hawk swooping down to catch dinner.  Or how fish will hide up under tree roots along the bank.  Or animal tracks.   Outdoor stuff.  Seeing them look at something in a new and interested way, get excited about a fossil or awesome rock gives me hope that perhaps they will see how interconnected all creatures are, and maybe, just maybe, carry that with them and pass that on to the next generation. 

These fields, these forests, these oceans and mountains and rivers and quiet woodland streams, the hawk on the wing, the deer silently, gracefully, slipping back into the shadows of the trees...all this and more is Beauty and Love and Truth to me.  It is more than enough.

 

Morning breaking through the trees.

Sunset on a Winter Creek

 

 

Sunset at my childhood farm.

Summer Fields for roaming.

                                                    

 

 

 

 

 
And I still see shapes in the clouds, like this Phoenix Rising.





Some women look at babies and feel such love, see such beauty. For me, seeing the sweep of a sun drenched green field towards the impossible blue of and uncluttered sky is Beauty and Love. Green corn fields, golden hay fields, fog-shrouded fields and forests, sun dappled wooded hillsides, the songs of birds, a music of the wind in pine trees or it's roar on stormy days, the gentle whisper of midnight snow...these things move me to awe, to see Beauty beyond words, and to feel such a swell of love and oneness with all. I can't explain it, won't ever apologize for it.

It is simply who I am, and that is how I am supposed to be.

 

 

Come The Harvest

As of 4:44 p.m., it is now "officially" Autumn.  The time of Harvest, of gathering in the grains, the fruits that 

have been growing and ripening all Summer.  Time to receive the bounty of the Harvest in return for our good stewardship and hard work throughout the year.  Butcher the the fatted calf, the hog, lay in the meat for the hard Winter season ahead, lay in the preserves of the garden, of the vine. Winnow and store up grains, some to grind, some to cook. Put the garden to bed, covering her with a nice over winter cover crop that will return to the soil at first tilling next Spring, enriching the soil for the next year's crops.  Once we lived by the rhythms of Nature, the Cycles of her Seasons.  We knew when to plow, when and what to plant.  

We're so far from that now as humans.  No wonder we're all a little nuts.  

Straight From SIRI's "mouth"

Enough said.

Oh Miley, you poor thing!

Well well well.  Poor Miley.  The only statement she's making about herself is that she's cheap and trashy, not sexy and edgy. 

There's FAR more to being sexy than a stripper routine and molesting a foam finger.   Have some class, some elegance.  Some élan.  Some real pride and self respect.  

She should also have a sense of personal responsibility. Millions of young girls admire her.  Want to be like her.  Ask yourselves this: "Do I think that's what I want my 10-12 year old daughter copying?"  Because in reality, there are young girls who woke up this morning thinking of copying.  

I get individuality and personal freedom, really, I do.  I grew up in the era of increasing sexual freedom for women and the equal rights movement.  Bra burning and the March on Washington, and the Vietnam War.  Turbulent times for the entire country.  But not too far removed from the little woman being nothing but a home and babymaker and a "servant".  

Our Sisters have fought since 1848 for our rights to be more than just chattel to a man, to vote, to have a say, to be an individual.  The current women's rights movement has devolved into backbiting, callousness, and cheapness of character.  It pits us against one another.  Fake friends and fake lives.  

We're still fighting to be seen as something other than an object, a vessel, a commodity to be used and discarded.  Yet we let the media tell us what to do, think, eat, wear, what to look like, and how to be.  And if we don't fit "their" standards, (who is this mythical "their"?), then we are somehow "less", our value is lower.  I call BULLSHIT!!!!

Miley might think she's expressing herself as a woman, but that was downright nasty...  Stunts like that hold us back, not empower us. We want to be more than objects or possessions, yet we portray ourselves as objects and allow ourselves to become "owned" by abusive relationships.  

We are our own worst enemy.   

Life and Other Stuff...

Funny how life gets away from you, much like time. We spend our days wishing them away.."I wish it were Friday" or I wish it was Spring". We have trouble remembering that each day is a gift, precious and fragile. We neglect the simple things in pursuit of some seemingly unattainable goal, and if, by some chance, or miracle, or 'divine' intervention, we reach that goal, we find it to be hollow, and unsatisfying. It truly is the simple things in life.