We were also taking care of our neighbor’s goats, some of them needing to be milked. This is one of the least-desirable weeks for C to miss several more days of work. The author is pushing the line of just how much this little family can take. Sometimes, I feel like I’m in some sort of tragi-comic graphic novel. (and I know the song is Don’t Eat Stuff Off the Sidewalk, but I think it applies, yeah?) It was a daring, early-morning (as in, all synapses not yet firing), duck rescue involving using teeth to release said duck from a tangle of twine. I should note that, in this case, the infection did not come from food. There’s nothing you can do except ride it out, but C was in so much pain and so dehydrated, that I finally just brought him down to the ER so they could get some liquid back into him and bring his blood pressure up. Please, whatever you do, don’t get salmonella.
#Taproot gift tags free
This weekend was completely absorbed by caring for creatures great and small, stacking an unexpected delivery of wood before the rain, coming into free tomatoes and getting them put up (still not done), while shuttling my husband to and fro the hospital, late nights for the boy (with the bonus of snuggles when Papa was at the ER), and bleary, sleepless nights for me. I had hoped to bring you this second installment of my Squam experience sooner, but the curve balls, lately…they are flying at me from all directions. Your talk of baked pumpkins, applesauce, and knitting projects has me feeling dreamy and ready to cast on a sweater. Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged reflection, squam, squam art workshops, taproot gathering | 2 Replies Day 2, and Don’t Bite on Stuff from the Duck House (isn’t that a Cramps song?)įirstly, thank you all so much for your thoughtful responses to my previous post. Perhaps if I keep my step and my heart light, careful, and deliberate through these precarious times of mine, I will find the sunshine-y summit. I stopped to listen and I stopped to look and I stopped at the top of Rattlesnake Mountain for a long while in a sweet glow of sunshine. I stepped lightly, carefully, deliberately. I parked the car just inside the gate, and then I walked to a trailhead, so I could give myself one last gift. Maybe I was trying to find some sort of identifiable way to keep the experience close, as if the sound of the water could stay in my ears and become accessible at will.Īnd when I finally tore myself away, I did not drive out of the camp. I left several times that last morning, but kept coming back…to make sure I didn’t forget to pack something, to read about the history of the camps, to stand on the porch with my eyes closed and listen to the sound of the water lapping on the shore. I think that part of me knew I would go through this. It’s the same let-down feeling that comes after graduating college, giving birth or finishing a really amazing book. Tulle, string lights, streamers, pom poms and cider by the fireside have been supplanted by financial woes, illness, soccer games, homework, rejections, apologies and making do. I’m holding on to just a shred of it, and hoping it’s enough to help me find my way back. My sense of restoration has been tried and tested in myriad ways.
#Taproot gift tags how to
I was feeling ready to tackle countless projects and develop ideas into real things and share and radiate and move mountains when I came home from the Taproot Gathering.Īnd now I wonder…was I really there? Did I make real, lasting connections? Did I begin to tell a story, but now have forgotten how to go on? What happened to the momentum I felt building as I journeyed through that weekend? It has been hard, of late, to see new beginnings as anything more than crushing endings.
0 kommentar(er)
