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Jun. 4th, 2022 08:40 amI'm still stuck on the William Meredith poem, About Morning, but don't want to repost it so soon. I went back looking for a quote in my poetry archives the other day and found dozens I'd forgotten I'd collected; on fb I'm going to do a poem a day through June to dust some off.
I'd still like, so much, to collect all these into a physical volume I could leaf through. The serendipity of opening a book to any page and finding just the right thing, I want that with my collection of poems. Every once in awhile I think about hiring someone to wade through the poetry tag, pull out all the poems, and format them similarly for me but it's one more of those money things. Property taxes are due, my deck is sagging seriously this spring, and I've already practically replaced half my house.
I have a lot to write about but I sat down to write because I learned that Josh uses at least close to the right pronouns for me in conversation with at least one of his friends. It felt really good. I've seen my real pronoun out in the wild a couple times now; I thought I might have to wait years or even decades before the kids these days did all their activism work and it could trickle back into my life. I guess by the time it happens it will have been years but maybe not decaades? And I've gone from writing nonbinary to nonbinary/xenogender to just xenogender in write-in gender boxes that aren't associated with work or the doctor's office (those ones just get nonbinary) so I'm getting more comfortable with specificity under that umbrella.
In all cases it's Pride month and I've never really felt included in it before; this year I do. This year I need that celebration of commonality, the push for extended supportive community, the reminders that I am part of something bigger and I'm alright as I am. It's like getting postcards touched by other humans when I've been living alone on the moon. It's hopeful.
Meanwhile I finally got my tiller- well, I need to actually start it, but put together and I have the transmission fluid and one of them is gonna work, dammit. I just hope the big one does. Now I know the routine on a new machine: run 5 hours, change oil, continue. I do not know how long tilling my garden will take, but I know I want to get everything in today. Well, at least all the corn, peas, and greens. Tomorrow can be tilling for tomatoes and squash, Monday can be planting, if need be. I need to step out and get feed a bunch today so hopefully that doesn't eat up the whole day.
Yesterday I spent the day with J, I made breakfast, he fixed the shifters on my bike (I am so grateful I got to skip learning that skill from scratch), we drove up to some cliffs I was curious about in the bush and looked around, we came back to his place and talked a bunch. I mean, we're both talkers, it's what we do, and it's lovely. There's a qualitative difference between talking to someone when they're remote, over the phone or whatnot vs in person, and I just-- I don't know. As is the way of things it makes me miss Josh and poking around and doing projects and talking with him. I'm remembering the camping trip we took where Josh built a little smoker out of fragments of an old homestead and we cooked our salmon for dinner over it and I bathed in the freezing lake white with glacial flour and we slept in the back of the Land Cruiser. I miss those. I wonder what this new thing will be. It won't be that, it will be its own thing, we will see how it settles.
There is one other person in town I could seek out to cook interesting things with, now that I think about it. She is the person who hooked me on Little Sheep hot pot. I guess I'm limited when I don't invite people over here. I guess I should get my house in order, and my fencing in order, so I can get folks here without worrying about the dogs.
But in the meantime my bike is working and I have my garden and it's sunny out, blue skies with no clouds and little birds chirping-- almost too sunny to work in long.
My mind feels quieter. I guess I do just need to talk and talk and talk with people sometimes, just to be in space and talk and talk. This restful feeling is the same as the feeling my body gets when I've done such a hard workday, 10k through the bush over blowdown or hauled several tons of rock. When you lie down to rest at such times gravity is such a comfortable cradle. Right now the tiny familiar noises of my house, hydroponic plant setup and geese, are a cradle for my relaxed and well-worked mind. Going into the sun and wrestling with the tiller will shift me into my body and there will be balance.
Today, then, is a good day. It's been awhile.
I'd still like, so much, to collect all these into a physical volume I could leaf through. The serendipity of opening a book to any page and finding just the right thing, I want that with my collection of poems. Every once in awhile I think about hiring someone to wade through the poetry tag, pull out all the poems, and format them similarly for me but it's one more of those money things. Property taxes are due, my deck is sagging seriously this spring, and I've already practically replaced half my house.
I have a lot to write about but I sat down to write because I learned that Josh uses at least close to the right pronouns for me in conversation with at least one of his friends. It felt really good. I've seen my real pronoun out in the wild a couple times now; I thought I might have to wait years or even decades before the kids these days did all their activism work and it could trickle back into my life. I guess by the time it happens it will have been years but maybe not decaades? And I've gone from writing nonbinary to nonbinary/xenogender to just xenogender in write-in gender boxes that aren't associated with work or the doctor's office (those ones just get nonbinary) so I'm getting more comfortable with specificity under that umbrella.
In all cases it's Pride month and I've never really felt included in it before; this year I do. This year I need that celebration of commonality, the push for extended supportive community, the reminders that I am part of something bigger and I'm alright as I am. It's like getting postcards touched by other humans when I've been living alone on the moon. It's hopeful.
Meanwhile I finally got my tiller- well, I need to actually start it, but put together and I have the transmission fluid and one of them is gonna work, dammit. I just hope the big one does. Now I know the routine on a new machine: run 5 hours, change oil, continue. I do not know how long tilling my garden will take, but I know I want to get everything in today. Well, at least all the corn, peas, and greens. Tomorrow can be tilling for tomatoes and squash, Monday can be planting, if need be. I need to step out and get feed a bunch today so hopefully that doesn't eat up the whole day.
Yesterday I spent the day with J, I made breakfast, he fixed the shifters on my bike (I am so grateful I got to skip learning that skill from scratch), we drove up to some cliffs I was curious about in the bush and looked around, we came back to his place and talked a bunch. I mean, we're both talkers, it's what we do, and it's lovely. There's a qualitative difference between talking to someone when they're remote, over the phone or whatnot vs in person, and I just-- I don't know. As is the way of things it makes me miss Josh and poking around and doing projects and talking with him. I'm remembering the camping trip we took where Josh built a little smoker out of fragments of an old homestead and we cooked our salmon for dinner over it and I bathed in the freezing lake white with glacial flour and we slept in the back of the Land Cruiser. I miss those. I wonder what this new thing will be. It won't be that, it will be its own thing, we will see how it settles.
There is one other person in town I could seek out to cook interesting things with, now that I think about it. She is the person who hooked me on Little Sheep hot pot. I guess I'm limited when I don't invite people over here. I guess I should get my house in order, and my fencing in order, so I can get folks here without worrying about the dogs.
But in the meantime my bike is working and I have my garden and it's sunny out, blue skies with no clouds and little birds chirping-- almost too sunny to work in long.
My mind feels quieter. I guess I do just need to talk and talk and talk with people sometimes, just to be in space and talk and talk. This restful feeling is the same as the feeling my body gets when I've done such a hard workday, 10k through the bush over blowdown or hauled several tons of rock. When you lie down to rest at such times gravity is such a comfortable cradle. Right now the tiny familiar noises of my house, hydroponic plant setup and geese, are a cradle for my relaxed and well-worked mind. Going into the sun and wrestling with the tiller will shift me into my body and there will be balance.
Today, then, is a good day. It's been awhile.
