Travels, Friends, Dark, and Light, and the Breathing Ocean

We walked the beach on that last day.  We alternately dreamed of our future farm in California and the kisses we would receive from Maryjane when we got home.  The air was heady with fresh soil and sea and the birds actively flew overhead.  My skin feels so good in the humidity.  I can breathe better too.  My breath caught though as I recognized a form in the sand behind a rock.  An infant seal clubbed, his spirit and his head missing, decomposing into the soft layers of sand that cradled its small body.  Mankind’s darkness found everywhere.  Glimpses of ugliness scattered vaguely in all the light.  But thank goodness for the light.

We had an amazing time with our beloved friends.  We miss them terribly as the years lapse between visits.  We traversed the back roads and highways, from beach to farm to mountain to sunsets, tasting, drinking wine or waters with lemon from Marigold the Lemon tree who resides sweetly on their fourth floor balcony.  Nourishment in every moment.

We came home to one of our cats, Zuzu’s Petals, missing.  Like losing a penny down the drain.  She is most immersely lost in this wilderness of apartment hell.

And as I sat on that beach in the sand looking out into the widest expanse of water that just graced the sky, and listened to the birds dancing on the rocks, and watched my husband recline and read, I noted the waves as they tumbled forth near my feet and then pulled back into the vastness.  Up and stretched in turquoise waves, then exhaled.  Came forth, pulled back.  I watched the ocean breathe for hours.  She gave, she pulled back, she grew in ferocity, she rested, she was beautiful in all her simplicity of ebb and flow.  She wrote out a poem, a script of life, a beautiful tale.

 

Homestead Sitter and New Residents

wine

The to-do lists are on hold.  My back hurts and I am going on vacation Friday and I am betting that the chores will wait for me.  The weedy and overgrown front yard, the tired garden beds waiting to be put under sheets of leaves for winter, the yard cleaned, and cushions needing to be put up will probably still be here when I get back.  Time for a little rest and rejuvenation.

kat and rod

It takes a special friend to allow homesteaders to leave their post.  This isn’t our old, “Can you pop by and make sure the cats have water every couple of days?”  This is, “How would you like to get up at dawn to let the dogs out?  You have to carry the old one outside.  Lean down in the chicken coop and gather eggs, let the chickens out.  You’ll have to sleep here to take care of everything.  Water plants.  Feed 27 animals while we are gone.  No pressure.”  And just like an angel, she says, “Okay.”  Kathy will even be spending her birthday here at our little farmstead.  We are so grateful that she is willing to take care of the zoo here.  Thank you.  Thank you!

vine

We are visiting dear friends in California that we haven’t seen in awhile.  Field trips to vineyards, San Francisco, and the ocean on the agenda.  The first time in five years that our business will be closed for a week. I will have to force myself to not answer phone calls all day.  Leave the phone in my room.  Soak up time with Doug, Steve, and Lisa, and a new environment.  It may be the last time for awhile.  Kat’s list of charges may be increasing when we come home.

Riddle: 4 1/2 new residents will be coming to live at Pumpkin Hollow Farm mid-November.  Can you guess who they are?