feeling a bit like a broken freakin' record. i'm mourning the land, my little house....grieving and letting go, can't go into the woods without sobbing like a child, so i'm not much fun to be around right now. not much to say since i can't seem to form a coherent thought that isn't about moving, where am i going, what can i afford, what do i need, who the hell am i without this place and my high mountain farmer chaconera identity.....do i still need/want that identity? what can i do to infuse more poetry into my life without giving up fresh air and peace and quiet and my animals....do i need my animals?
and around and around we go.....
the days have gotten chilly,esp. with all the rain! night comes earlier, grasses have gone to seed, all around the subtle shift from brilliant green to slightest brown....i swear i can smell fall in the air...its like that up here. so short, the warm season.
we'll have a first frost by september no doubt.
winter counts to a hundred, whispers...ready or not, here i come.
i am not ready.