Retreat to Weymouth

I am thrilled to be spending a few days at the Weymouth Center in Southern Pines with my writing friend Susie.  This is the perfect place to take stock of the old year and the new.
It was a bit grey and stormy today but that was alright for getting lots of work done.

Think, write, read, walk and ponder the universe.

What a gift to visit here once again, I'll be sad to leave tomorrow but it's been great to recharge my batteries and refocus my intent as I head into the new year.

Still Perking Along in the Piedmont

Hello friends, sorry for another long absence.  It's been a busy time.  Seems like I am gardening non-stop when at home.  Otherwise I am running around trying to drum up business for Playful Nature at the same time I am trying to do the jobs I already have.   Like managing the community garden and working with my young friends at Spanish for Fun Academy childcare center.  With the kiddo's in the past couple of weeks we have pressed flowers for drying, harvested strawberries and peas, garlic and potatoes.  We've planted tomatoes and beans too.  And been studying butterflies and other pollinators.  All in all, having a big time.

The back of the Boyd house at Weymouth

I did manage to slip away for a couple of days to one of my favorite spots, the Weymouth Center for the Arts in Southern Pines.  An enchanted place to retreat and where I met up with my old group of writing friends for a few days of deep writing and renewal.  I spent a fair amount of my time there trying to get a new blog up for the business.  It will be interesting to see if I can maintain two blogs when I don't seem able to maintain one!  Please wish me luck!

Nothing says late spring like snap peas and beets.  The peas are fleeting, they really only bear for about 2-3 weeks but they are so sweet and crispy that they are worth getting in the ground way back in February and erecting a high trellis so we can enjoy their crunchy green goodness.  I was literally using a step ladder to pick them this week.  I am wondering if I should consider a shorter variety?

FYI- I am going to change my settings back to require the "prove you are not a robot" screens to post a comment. Unfortunately, as soon as I removed that little firewall, I started getting strange comments posted from China, India and elsewhere.  Sorry for any inconvenience, please DO leave a sincere comment.

Thanks for reading and happy days folks.

Change of Plans

 In my last post I told of my impending trip to the Weymouth Center in Southern Pines, but in a flash everything changed.  I could have titled this post "shit happens"  because it did.  First David woke on Saturday night with vomiting and diarrhea.  I nursed him two days and he slept and I thought I had dodged the bullet and happily packed my bags and lots of groceries, along with all my writing accoutrements and headed out Monday afternoon to join my friends for gin and tonics on the porch, supper and chatting.  I unpacked that night, set up my little room, computer on the desk, my writing books in a stack to one side, journals on the other, pens in the drawer, clothes in the closet, I was ready.  Then it was my turn to wake retching.  Needless to say, this colored the week for me and everyone else.

I rested and was nursed until on Wednesday I felt strong enough to return home where I have continued to recuperate.  Only one of my companions was struck down, she on Wednesday night, returned home on Friday, two more were left standing and stayed the whole week, another, she who nursed us, returned home on Thursday and was also spared the crud.

It was not the week we had all been dreaming of.

I'm trying to move on, though it's hard to let go.  But here at home, feeling stronger each day, I've read, written, taken walks, worked in the garden a bit, eventually been able to cook and enjoy food again, slept and spent some quality time with my man.  Yesterday, I ventured down to the creek during the heat of the day.  Some of the mountain laurel were still in bloom, their white flowers hanging over the deep green, some falling, drifting down the stream or scattered on the mossy banks.  I rested my feet in the cool water, too chilly to go all the way in, I was satisfied just to soak my toes and feel the breeze, listen to the sound of the water burbling past, watch the play of light on the trees.

 

Sometimes, there is just no place like home

Happy New Year

I always like to welcome the new year with a walk around the land and a visit to some of my favorite places.  I've read, (but can't find the reference), that at this time of year, certain cultures honor the spirits that reside in powerful trees and rocks.  As I've walked the woods the past few weeks I've been connecting with that custom as the tree trunks, roots and rock formations really stand out now that all the leaves are down.

There are certain places that feel very powerful to me and this rock outcrop is one of them.  I like to climb to the top and look down over the creek.  Huge sycamores cling to the far bank, their roots merging with the stones on the edge of the stream.  I took time out yesterday to stroll the creek, visit these special spots and meditate a while at each.  I've even been caught tree-hugging from time to time.  You only need to study the trunks of beech trees to believe that they are endowed with spirits.

Today I celebrated the new year with lots of writing and organizing in my office.  I baked bread and made a brilliant purple pot of borscht using all vegetables we've grown; beets, cabbage, tomatoes, peppers, carrots, onions and dill.  I wish all my readers a joyous and bountiful 2012.  May we all be healthy and happy.

Snow Angel

A favorite spot along one of our creek ways, there is always water in this stone pool

My friends I have abandoned you once again!  But here I am with a thought or two to share.  I did start writing group again last week and it was wonderful to put pen to paper again.  So funny, that morning I woke and thought to myself  "today I will become a writer again" and then immediately laughed following that thought with this one "I'm always a writer, I just don't write!"  But that is an old, old situation for every person involved in any artistic endeavor, the struggle to produce, focus, create.  PUT IT OUT THERE.

So I thought I would share something that I wrote in class last week.  An except generated by the prompt:

"Snow Angel"

For many seasons our father bought us a new toboggan at Christmas, we always destroyed it within a month or so taking too much "air", cramming too many bodies on board.  Eventually he stopped investing.  But one of those cold Connecticut Januaries I remember the boys took me sledding at night, to the golf course near our house, out with the big kids, all of us piled on board and when we crashed at the bottom I got pitched into a deep drift.  There, under the soft white womb, I could hear muffled voices, laughing, other kids screaming as they flew down the steep hill.  I could see a glimpse of night sky through the opening created by my little body when it flew off the sled into the snow.  I felt a strange calmness there, insulated and warm, calling out in a tiny voice "help, help me, I'm in here".  Soon the boys found me, pulling me up and out, joking, jostling, dragging me back up the hill for another ride, more running, jumping aboard, flying down, tumbling off at the bottom of the slope.  All of us on the toboggan, me squeezed between the boys, shrieking as we flew down the hill, again and again, safe in the sandwich of bodies that was me and my brothers, my protectors, my knights in padded armor. 

This weekend I'm heading to the coast for a brief retreat and focus on work towards my certificate in Environmental Education.  I'll be taking the computer and hope to post from there.  Thanks all you faithful readers for continuing to come back for more.

Roses!

I was hoping to break the long dry spell of writing that I’ve been suffering from lately. I had challenged myself to blog “Everyday in May”. Here it is the 16th and this is my first May post. Oy. Maybe from here on out I can try for everyday? It feels like I’ve been working 7 days a week. So when I do have a bit of free time, I’m feeling pressured to get the veggie garden in, typical for mid-April to mid-May in our region when most of the summer garden needs to be started, it seems there’s no time left for writing.

This must change.

I’m planning some cutbacks in the work department and all but the high summer crops of sweet potatoes, okra, purple hull peas and some assorted beans are now in the ground. I’ve got hope that there will be more hours in the day to ponder the world around me, to seek and find my muse again.

Wish me luck.

Meantime- I want to share the delicious roses that have been decorating our yard the past couple of weeks. I’ve never been much on growing roses but these old fashioned varieties seem quite easy and this pink one in particular is lusciously fragrant.

The way this apricot rose is spilling along the top of the garden fence, only in its second year, is just as I had hoped it would be.

The Jackmanii clematis mixed in with the New Dawn rose is a pairing I’ve envisioned ever sense seeing it in the White Flower Farm catalog some years back.

So- look for more writing from me in the very near future, tomorrow if life goes according to plan.  I’m off to grab some lunch before heading in to a workday at the community garden.  Here's hoping that both my writing dry spell and the dry spell of weather that's been over us for more than a month will break in the next 24 hours!