It's been a gray, cloudy day, and makes my mind wonder back to the sun, sand and beaches of Florida. But there was a fire in the fireplace today, the house is quiet and clean since I worked hard on it before I left, and I slept for eleven hours last night. So all is right in my world today, although I am missing my son already. I will have to go back to see him again before the weather gets too hot for me in Florida.
I thought I knew what I was going to do today but as so often happens my day took a turn in a different direction. I am learning to let life be, to let it flow and to do what comes next instead of worrying about whether I should be doing something else. My oldest son's best friend since second grade offered us a huge buck he'd shot, and that was Larry's job for today--getting it cut up, ground up, packaged up, and in the freezer. (Thanks,Allan!) Twenty-four packages of ground venison and 4 roasts are now ready for use as needed.
I worked on pricing items for the booths. I am determined to get through the backlog of totes that stacked up this summer while I was too busy to deal with them. I now have about 6 totes, a couple tables and stools, and some odds and ends ready to go. My workroom is looking better, and will be even emptier once I get Christmas gifts wrapped and out of here.
We got down some of the Christmas decorations today too, and I started looking through them to see what I want to use this year. It's early for me; usually I do the outside during the first week of December but the rest waits until 10-14 days before Christmas Day. But we're having a little get-together next weekend so I want to have at least some of the decorations and the tree done this week. One thing I do like about Facebook is seeing everyone's decorating, trees, and baking. It brings the season alive in a new way as we share our joy.
Being home after being in places with so many people--it makes me realize how quiet it is here. On KeyWest, as we were eating, I asked the others to listen. Although we were surrounded by water, all we could hear was the noise made by people: cars, trucks, buses, music, conversation. Not the wind in the trees, or the waves on the beach or the birds. Just people-noise. Here at home, I hear people noise only rarely--a truck passing by on the ridge, or a far-off chainsaw or tractor. Maybe I'll hear a cow bellowing or a rooster or maybe a dog barking. I know I will hear birds singing, the wind, maybe a hawk screeching or if it's night, the coyotes or the owls. I hear people noise if I turn on the radio or if we watch a movie, but that's about it. Quiet surrounds us. For some this might be an uncomfortable environment but for me, it's peaceful, an opportunity to think, feel and grow.
Quiet is also conducive to writing. When I am too busy, which is much of the time even now, I find that I cannot engage in reverie, that fertile state of mind that produces poems, essays and calm. When I was sorting items for the booths today, for example, I came across a recipe box that I'd gotten at an estate sale. I made some coffee, then sat on the couch and slowly went through the box. That quiet time produced the article I wrote for Two Lane Livin' today; had I not had this interlude I doubt I would have noted the significance of that box, its history and its collector. Quiet allows creativity to thrive.
Tonight I am listening to "people noise": West Virginia's Mountain Stage's 30th anniversary show. When it began, I was a security guard working in Building 5 at West Virginia's Capitol Complex. I remember when the show began, and the euphoria of the people who had envisioned it as they returned from their very first show. And tonight, my friend and West Virginia's Poet Laureate Marc Harshman read the poem he wrote in honor of our state's 150th anniversary. I cannot even remotely describe his reading as noise! He touched the heart and soul of our state with his words. I was moved to tears; he knows us, yes he does. In my quiet home sheltered by these West Virginia hills, his voice reached out and confirmed all the reasons why this place is home--even on gray and dreary days.
Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.