Monday, August 17, 2020

It's Hard to Keep Track

Days are as long as a month, and months fly by like an hour. We can't tell one week from another, and we are genuinely surprised to see it's already August. I really love to have blog posts in order, especially chronological order. And as I get these photos edited, and organized, it occurs to me: This post should be dated as August third, or fourth, not August 17th. Everything is getting all mixed up. I was thinking of backblogging... changing dates, so they all line up, but never mind. There will be a few posts this month that appear as I wrote them, but not in the order that the events happened. In years to come if this is awkward, confusing, frustrating, strange, then good, because that will serve to convey some of the way it feels to live isolated-at home-quaranting-washing groceries for 6 months. It's all weird, and it's hard to keep track. Accurate AF.

This fretting and overthinking reminds me of another concern-obsession I struggle with. When Floyd George was murdered, and a new Civil Rights Movement launched, when "everyone" took to social media in protest, in support, posting black squares, sharing memes and links to articles, quoting John Lewis, Maya Angelou, when dozens of metaphors were developed to explain, over and over again, why Black Lives Matter, because some people really need those dots connected for them... I listened. I read, and learned, I shared, and adjusted my attitudes, changed beliefs, redoubled my resolve, and I got very, very concerned about doing enough. I am still trying to do enough, still reading, still engaging, still listening. Ok, if I list any more, I will feel like I'm seeking affirmations, gold stars, and probably, in that very human kind of way, I do want to be seen as an ally, as sincere. But this is the part that I realize, and am amusedly chagrined about... it really doesn't matter what I am saying and doing, how deeply I care, how much I want to do better, and how strongly I recognize my own experiences with prejudice, being a victim of systemic racism, because I pretty consistently fly under the radar in social media. Ok. It matters some, and I like to think someone will appreciate things I share, or be helped by my efforts, but mostly I should just be me. Be me, without worrying about blog posts appearing out of order. Be me, without questioning my own determination, doubting my worthiness as an ally, my sincerity and desire to effect change. Be me, because I am happy to learn, to change, to help, to engage, to share, to be better, and none of that is related to Likes, Hearts, Followers, gold stars. I have cared about racism, and been affected by prejudice, all of my life; these issues, and the cause are not trendy, not a phase. And I am typing all of this out for my own good... because the sentiments and struggles, my imposter-worries are thoughts in my head, concerns I review in my reasoning, go over and over, when really, I should take a deep breath, and do what I do. It's just me, internalized values, caring, over-thinking, stumbling, messy me.


Social media is so weird.

I wonder, if this was pre-Internet times, would I have turned to journalism, had a newspaper column? I used to write lots of personal letters, and I have kept journals. But, clearly I have an irresistible sharing impulse. I've tried to quit, have felt useless, overexposed... but clearly not enough to finally walk away for good. So weird. I can't say I understand it.

I have another question. Does everyone feel a constant need to justify their ideas, their interests, the space they occupy? Asking for a friend.



Still roofing. It took seven days. I can say that, now, because technically it's mostly done, but these pictures are from when it was only three days in, and four to go. And check out the attic! In an alternate universe, I turn this into a secluded room, with wood floors, and odd corners, where we paint the ceiling with stars and clouds, and it smells like pine and cedar. There are several, very comfy beds, chests full of dress up clothes, windows west and east, so the breezes come through. The only hint that the room exists, is the faint sound of laughter that carries through the house.







These look like scenes from an alternate universe, but it's a night walk, down our street, two nights before the full moon. The Sturgeon moon. Did you know there will 13 full moons this year? Still to come: Harvest moon, September 2, Hunter's moon, October 1, and October 31 is a Blue moon, then Beaver moon on November 30, and Cold moon December 29.

Paul M, queried "When is the indie band putting out an album?" I saw it, too, how some of these look like incidental album cover art. I called their band Wizards of the Coast, and their genre is Celtic Native Alternative Art Hop.

August 1

Speaking of Wizards of The Coast, Maria still imagines she'd enjoy making D&D art for them. I say, They'd be lucky to have her. This is one of her Dungeons and Dragons characters, Clio. Not a Tiefling, like Lyra. Maria has been drawing Clio for a while. Clio is a human.






August 2

When did we order fire wood? We've used so much already! Our first order of a half cord lasted about 7 or 8 years. This order came in May, and we have used half of it already! So worth it. We can hang out with friends, in the welcome glow of campfires. Remind me to order more. I foresee more lockdown and isolation, and we will need light and company to make it through.

August 3

There's the spot... the rotting section that was causing the leak into the garage.




Too soon? I didn't mean to decorate for Fall. But the H├╝gelkultur garden bed was successful, and our Pie Pumpkin saga came full circle. I should write down the rest of the tale... but remember, it began like so:

A Pie Pumpkin, brought home last October, escaped notice all through the holidays. Somehow, it slipped quietly away from the entry display for Halloween. It sat, small, unnoticed through Thanksgiving. Sometime between Christmas and Ground Hog Day it moved under the guest bed, and fell sound asleep. Then came Spring, and all the stirrings to freshen home and garden... boxes to the attic, rubbish to the bin, raking, sweeping, and sorting, and that's when we spied Pie Pumpkin, again. At last, the little orange orb, still firm and bright, would fulfill a marvelous destiny. Pie Pumpkin is coming full circle, and the garden is full of her descendants; bright, firm orbs that are just beginning to speckle orange.

So, there we have it. The first few days of August, described in mid August, and looking like October. Ah, 2020, you do mystify.



2 comments:

gretchenjoanna said...

Pie Pumpkin's story is sweet. My only similar story is not similar enough... I left my whole autumn pumpkin in my dorm room through the Christmas holidays in Santa Barbara, and when I came back, it was completely rotten and moldy. Ah, but if I had had a plot of earth then, I might have stuck the whole thing in, and found that it was alive in the best sense.

Your musings on Being You, and Doing What You Do, I can relate to. "Be me, because I am happy to learn, to change, to help, to engage, to share, to be better, and none of that is related to Likes, Hearts, Followers, gold stars." I love how you put that! And its corollary: "Does everyone feel a constant need to justify their ideas, their interests, the space they occupy? Asking for a friend."

At least, when I click LIKE on your blog, it is not to stamp my approval on any cause that you identify with, or to award you a star because you are trying hard enough to prove yourself. Most of your blog posts I could write a few paragraphs responding to, with all the topics and beautiful things you touch upon and that are always provoking in the best way. If I hit LIKE it is because I need to go "do what I do," which your doing what you do inspires me to. :-)

I love the color of your house, and the fact that you can sit outside around a real fire!!! And thank you for telling about the various full moons that are yet to come this year. I really want to get back into keeping track of that.

Natalie, the Chickenblogger said...

When I checked for comments this morning, I assumed I hit the wrong button, because *there are four comments, that can't be right.* I seriously hit refresh, and kind of groaned, disappointed. But lo! It was true! When it comes to comments and interaction... I am shamelessly thrilled for these kind of hearts!
Your pumpkin surely would have made a dazzling pumpkin patch. I can't count how many of ours have "gone bad," usually just around Easter. And when they can get tossed in to a patch of dirt... wow! They are determined and successful at coming back to life!
That blue, Arrowhead Lake, from Behr, took me forever to settle on, but it was worth the wait. It makes me so happy! And those campfires, first for heat, now to smoke away mosquitos, have been a lifeline. We have a number of friends that we can safely meet and spend time with, and for many it's been the only socializing, since March. I think we need to order more wood!
Thank you, for commenting, for sharing your thoughts and memories, and for being excited about the Moon with me.