Middle Of The Road.....

Here I have been silent, my life back upon the roads beckoning like muses....

Here, the path has taken me to the Middle. The Middle of the Great States, this time Iowa and Illinois. I had to go back, you see:  I was teaching beekeeping and cooking, and amidst all of those classes, I have again been the student, learning how to have a full heart. As I had mentioned in my sojourns to Iowa before---there is such a broad sense of community and self sufficiency there, that it should serve as a beacon for how America is, or should be. A fun and friendly spirit of the heart which is harkens back to a safe and inspired place we should all have.

There have been old friends, new friends, and all of them family in some way or another. This journey has been a feast for the soul, and I have left the table full to the brim.

Where to begin? There is too much in the telling, but this tale is too good to pass. Pull up a chair in the next week, I say, and listen to tales about bread baking, butter making, bee swarms, a world of old objects, and other baudy country tales.  

For now, I will start at the point BEFORE I left, with this token of gratitude to Maggie and her mother Donna, the two women who began this insanely beautiful journey by reaching out to me last April, and hosting me at their amazing Prairieland Herbs business.

This is my "Thank You" Gift:

 

This was a long felled tree in Kansas, cut down for me when I went to visit the farm upon which it lay. For long moments, it lay with it's breathren in a box, waiting for me to get up the courage to paint on it. 

For long moments, I convinced myself I was too busy or not clever enough to know how to paint on such a medium. But I had an idea, fueled by Donna's love of the Moon (and truly, who doesn't love the Moon?), and so a hot air Moon Balloon carrying my wild haired friend Maggie, and her Mama, sister, and their bevvy of friends carried them away. I hoped this magical little token would suffice to convey my gratitude to this magical  group of people......

(A bit of production progress....)

 ...with more magic to come!

Strings of the Heart

 I am grateful, yes I am.

As complicated as my life might seem, should you have read my last post, it isn't quite a sad violin serenade. No...my life is a winding fiddle tune, both slow and sad at times, then unexpectedly upbeat: the joint is definitely jumping.

An ode to celebration, a pub tune and a hearty bardic ballad can be had of my little journey; I can say I've probably found more profound examples of things to be thankful for this year than in recent memory. I've found kindness and generosity in the faces of strangers--and then friends--in different parts of the country. I've traveled more, seen more, and learned about the differences that truly make us the same.

In fact, I plan to journey back again to the place where much of  these observations began..this week, it's back to Iowa to once again teach beekeeping and cooking. The irony is that I'd just returned from my friends' farm in upstate New York to go to yet more farmland....indeed, this is a sweet second helping of a favorite old time tune, long and low, and sounding of forests, fields and old friends....

The truth is, very few things pluck at the heartstrings as true comraderie, and the sense that people truly DO care for you. I have found this amongst the dirt-loving, nature abiding, artisan folk, everywhere. One speaks plainly, knows--and is comfortable--in their own skin, and considers it a duty and privilege to care for others. 

It is a crying shame, how quickly people forget these sorts of things. While the world makes war in the name of it's self-centered commercial interests, there are those who quietly pull up a chair for friends, say a small prayer, and share a meal, and other few luxuries they have. Those are my people. Gypsy hearted dreamers who want no big thing, but who do their best, and are themselves, from dawn to dusk. The kind, imaginative, happy folks. Naive as it may seem, I believe we are here to help each other, to pull the strings of the heart, a fine instrument creating a fine tune, indeed!

I'm looking forward to some serious melody making in Iowa these next few weeks. And then? Who knows, but I suspect that while it might be difficult sometimes, it will definitely be INTERESTING!

Farm, art, craft,  and dream folk, I HEART you!

Wishes

I had wanted to post earlier, but given the date, I thought it more prudent to tell tales today.

Of the tragedy's anniversary yesterday, I feel I've nothing to add to the many online voices I'd heard, and read, and it's a tough and tricky subject.

I'll simply offer this quote of Mother Teresa's to hint at my feelings about the incident, and war and violence in general: "If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other."

Yesterday's melancholy mood is a long extension of the week pass'd; returning from last weekend's farm sojourn back to metropolis felt like being thrown in the river to swim. I find this more and more, that there is some sort of caged reaction I have, leaving the wild places, as though I'm pacing, plotting to return to the farms and forests beyond the city's outskirts.

I can't say I've ever remembered feeling quite...so...lost. Which is ironic, considering I live in a place where I couldn't lose myself if I wanted to, in the maddening crowd.  So,  I suppose the word "ill-fitting" comes to mind lately, as though I never belonged in an urban setting. Or anywhere, really.

This sort of thinking is rather compounded by the passing of my birthdate, which I last told you about, and it's been a long standing tradition of mine to re-evaluate myself on each anniversary of my three week delayed birth (As with everything, my birth was late; and a fortune-teller later said I was bound to do everything late because of this. Yes, he has so far has predicted correctly).

Usually my little ritual involves the following:

Significant events from one birthday to the next. This year, I can say three include getting engaged, being recognized for our humane beekeeping, and moving forward with art.

The tougher question I ask myself: what purpose are you fulfilling?  This question is a strict remnant of my childhood. My parents were either blessed or cursed with idealistic principles and, for better or worse, I have inherited notions that encompass a world view. Some people call this The Big Picture. In any case, what that means is, everyday, I move along with purpose: what is my goal, why am I here, am I doing what I need to be doing?  And if not, why?

As you guess, this is not always an easy thing to live with because, hey, sometimes one wants to just be RANDOM. Perhaps it's just a day to read the newspaper and have a slice of cheesecake. Or do something heinous, like not wash the dishes.  But no, my upbringing and classical Virgo sense of orderliness and higher sense of duty (trust me, ask any Virgo) makes for that pesky voice in the back of my noggin constantly sound the alarm.

Which brings us to this year. Every other year, I could run off an easy list of purpose, usually not ONE, but TWO big things I was all about. Without fail, these would invariably have something to do with either fine art, or performing art. I was running a dance troupe I was sure would be the next big thing, I was planning a show that could eventually go on tour, I had ideas for theater that might make it somewhere on, around, or near Broadway, I was going to act....and on and on it went...

I might have even thought there was something to do with bees, with animals, or any of the lesser things I did.

But no...right now, I am the weary hamster tired of spinning myself cripple on the wheel of fortune, juggling any number of interests, ideas, wants, and needs, in a quietly desperate world in which I am a misfit and, while I try to portray it as a positive and happy online presence, there a small and dire troubles within my life, as simple and as overwhelming as anyone else's. 

I can't say there's much more than one dream, which combines my love of animals, art, old fashioned things, and adventure, and I'm not one whit close to doing it:

The Beyond Vagabond Horse Drawn Project.

Anyone who's anyone who knows me will tell you this:
If I say I'll do it, it's sure to happen.




So what do you suppose the outcome of this WISH will be if I WRITE IT down?  Plus, the year's not over, yet!

What are your wishes?

Music For Your Gypsy Soul

  Here's a new idea.  You may or may not know, I'm a stickler for music. In one of my many previous incarnations, I was a radio DJ, and  I have always had a love for old time music, perhaps even ancient sounding. Long ago lullabies on weathered instruments make my heart race. Music that compliments old Southern houses and sweet iced tea, music that works, walking through mystical forests, music from faraway cultures....well, you get the idea.

So I thought, perhaps I'd share some of these with you?  I have no idea what to call them, as they encompass various genres.  Other than they are so eclectic, that perhaps they are music for the Gypsy Soul, perfect for whatever journey you may be taking. Enjoy:

GoldenRod Years....

 When you are an agrarian, or live close to nature, time is not marked off on calendars, not seen on clock faces.

No.

Instead, they are found in the hallmarks of the world around you, wilderness worlds big and small. The migratory flights of geese, the colors of leaves, the types of plants, birds, and reptiles that make their appearance...or disappearance...

Such is the case of the Goldenrods. Around the NorthEast, the last hurrah of "flowerdom" is the Goldenrod, and just as Spring's wild weedy mistress seems to be Queen Anne's Lace, white and delicate,  the Goldenrod signals the last glorious bout of flashy yellow color before Wintertide hits.

This weekend, far away from the concrete city, the Goldenrod grew tall and amazing, a grand golden sea everywhere we went. I might have imagined it, but I'd never SEEN so much goldenrod dotting the hamlets and Villages of the upland countryside.

I've realized there is something wistful about the whole thing, watching this display. One more last flashy journey of something vibrant, before the long winding march toward the twilight of the seasons. Winter is a time of death and desolation, so one must watch the last breaths of Autumn with a sort of reverence. Life is like that too...each moment that we live, animated, we are slowly marching there, much as it all looks so alive, amazing.  I've thought about this more than usual lately; it does not help that this weekend marked another year pass'd for me, and I tip scales heavier toward elderliness, than not.

These things will manifest themselves in ways I can't fully predict, right now. While you are reading this, there are secret ideas that are coming to fruition, some of which I have shared, and some which might surprise you (and me)!  This weekend's vacation back at the Sparks's farm, is a weekend getaway, a birthday celebration, a wedding planning trip, and so much more. We are all celebrating life here, and attempting to finish our own personal "Life To Do" lists before the literal and figurative GoldenRod Years are over.

Some of the to do lists are small, perhaps even trivial, but important. I helped June Sparks (who might appear to be a mild mannered "farmer's wife" but truly she is secretly "Super Woman) harvest her beautiful organic garden before winter came:

...with the help of farm kitty Sarah.....

...who inspected our work....

Meanwhile, Herbie avoided the sun, amongst the tomato plants:

 The Sweetheart and I enjoyed a trip into Ithaca, the heart of Central New York. We returned back to the farmer's market that I visited on my first trip Upstate, and it did not disappoint. Once again, we were greeted by a kaleidescope of fresh food and amazing folk art and wares!

Lovely farmer fresh food...

Wonderful local woven baskets....

A potter's works...

We also saw this horse fellow once again....though this time, we got much more up-close-and-personal...

And we also found another farm animal-gone-metropolitan, this neon chicken!

Whilst the small city was beautiful, my favorite place was still atop one of the mountainside pastures on the Sparks property. We climbed that wild, ancient hill to the field in which the Sweetheart and I will be married. Here, one still feels small, and amazed at everything.  The goldenrod grows high here, triumphant in its final days.   Perhaps here, amongst nature, we will find our way past the GoldenRod years, begin again and find the next Spring...a whole new journey.

In any case, it is all whimsy and beauty......

Next: A birthday wish......

Traveling Of All Sorts.....

 This weekend marks the journey of many sorts.

I shall be traveling upstate again, to mark another sort of traveling--traveling through time, as I shall reach another year in age, and will be celebrating it in high farm style. I aspire to do nothing more than frolic in greenery, pick blackberries, snuggle with barn animals and probably eat food  that would mortify many a health-conscious urbanite.  Ahh well, I am not on track with those show style prop ponies. This girl's about the draft horses of the world, anyway.

I figure, since it's my birthday weekend, why not get myself something unique and interesting, and which focuses on my many loves....say, beekeeping?

How about this beauty? This old hive has been cleverly remade into a wee house!

See more HERE...

  It's all about the bees, right?

At over $6,000, it might also be about winning the lottery (!!)

In other news, my ETSY Shoppe will still be open.....there are wonderful bargains to be had!
DON'T FORGET, there  is a 20% OFF sale UNTIL SEPT 10th!

Expect anything you order this weekend to be sent promptly on Tuesday!

In the meantime, I wish you fun journeys this weekend, wherever you are...