front yard

spring 2011, before the petals fell... i swear you could hear
the tree sway her hips to drop the petals

may

lilacs

so i have lost my train of thought, i get overwhelmed and bam. nothing. not even bits of striped linen could bring me back. i even lost my garden belly fire. but tonight, i was stomping around the yard in my bare feet, hollering for the pup, and i caught a whiff of that lilac bush. and it was back. thunder road lyrics, about dancing on the porch and running off with my love, second chances, last chances, teenage lust and cold cold lemonade in moonlight. hearing people talking in the distance. deafening crickets. sunburn on my cheeks. my daughter with her hair sticking to the back of neck and a pure shit eattin grin. when i was younger, i had a business. it was called lavender dusted jazz baby, and i made soaps and lotions and i was happy. and i made lilac soap. it was a smell tonight, that brought me back to my creative productive self. before i was who i am now. i went inside, tucked my sweet(whining)growing girl into her bed, and lulled her to sleep with me, droning on and on about how my room smells like beeswax because of the frames that i will be filling with bees in just a week or two are in my room, and how i miss the smell of bread. and how i am forgetting. i talked about the tarts that were coming in the end of summer, from those fig bushes. and how just before she was born, i wandered around my yard eating fresh figs and blueberries from the bush in the evenings. and how on the very day she was born, the cotton in the field went from green to brown, i had felt it was a gift, the keep up my spirits. i chatted about hidden dresses in my closet. and how much i dislike ginger. she was snoring by that point, so i went back downstairs, marched right up to the bush, and tipped my invisible hat at it. so great. so glad no one else was there.

strange..

humble bees

torn out page

following through

today i purchased my bees for the spring and i think my heart is going to explode. i have been meaning to live the life i have in my head, but had forgotten how to in the past of couple of years. for weeks, i couldn't go to sleep, i was thinking about spring. renewal. life. i want to run outside right now and just scream. i want to grab the hand of the next person i see, and tell them that its time to do it. live. its good.. but i wont, for fear that it would scare them, or maybe its more likely that i have done it to them already. i have a problem with that. its winter, and this house is chilly, but i am warm. birdhouses that my grandfather built, going up, committing. fantastic garden with warty melons and peppers. written down and committing. hops. daisies and lavender along the old stone barn wall. heartsong, and committing. cold frames, written down, preparing the barter list for the tools, committing. brown turkey figs,can taste them already, committing. a fruit press, for those pears, committing. sap buckets tacked to trees just to hold flowers and twigs, committing. and a stone patio, in the middle of it all, to take in those sweet summer nights. i am ready. i just took my first step.

*

one year later...

nicky, january 2011: thirty, girl adventuress, mother, bookworm, eventual author, scout, stick hoarder, punctuation enthusiast, vagabond sympathiser, wildcrafter, disturber of the peace; likes banjo ballads, old books, forgiveness, bubble gum, uncommon folk, smell of pipe tobacco and earl grey, semi-colons, wire, cheese, public radio, tin ceilings, words, fairy lights, folk art, baking, forests, setting things on fire, libraries, tom waits, flip flops, contributing, mr. darcy, farmers markets, blank paper, thrift shop clothing, root cellars, the city, the idea of magic, and learning everything about everything. within reason...

i am not

jelly jars

family photo

man

mustard

mayapple and juniper

our new additions.

simple joy