Tuesday, July 2, 2013

more is less

I love the name of July.  I love the way it sounds.  Ju-ly.  Thick, unequivocal summer.  If June was thunder and lightning, smoke and tender leaves, July is full walls of green, gentler rains.  And crotch shots.

The cherries are ripe, they are the sweetest this year that I've known.  My sister's in the valley and we made a pie.  I don't really understand the phrase "easy as pie".  It's one of the harder things to make in my opinion, especially when you pick and pit the cherries yourself, which is by turns hot and neck-cricking and tedious and and bloody-looking.  The pie was very handsome though, and tasty.  Though I think we all know that nothing is ever as delicious as right off the tree, spittin the pits.  Is it a sign of greed to take more cherries than you can eat in one sitting and then make them into something richer and a bit less tasty?  Or is it a sign of thrift to make use of the glut while it's here, even if it doesn't give as pure a pleasure as serene, chimp-like, hand-to-mouth eating?

We had the first party in the yellow house!  Many songs sung on the porch in voices loud and soft, many beautiful friends cavorting on my lawn.  Later in the night we jumped in the pond and shivered and smoked ourselves over a little fire.  I walked home.  Going by starlight forces me to look up instead of down at my feet.  There was breathtaking lightning in the eastern sky, it looked like a giant, instantaneous orb.

I went up to Kentucky to Cowan Creek, it was just as magical as everyone said.  I built a fairy house and I talked to people about ballads, I forgot how good that feels.  Sooo good.  Anna was in her element, maybe a bit stressed but having fun and doing everything head-on.  She's a wonder.

Major goat milestone: If I sneak away from Stevie, I can leave her in the open pasture with the other goats instead of in the small pen.  Life is so much better this way since she has more forage, more exercise, and more time to develop herd dynamics with Hazel and Norah.  She cries much, much less and is an all around chiller goat.  This also means I can keep the small pen open so that any of the three goats can at any time run to the hutch for shelter or go to their water tub to take a drink.  It's still not perfect--if I'm not sneaky enough Stevie will still follow me, leaping silently between the two bottom electrical strands of the gate.  I try to be very surly when I toss her back in, making sure she at least brushes the zappers, hoping she will learn.  We finally ran out of goat formula and figure it's as good a time to wean as any, especially now that she has the opportunity to browse.  Her horns are coming in nicely, making her seem especially devilish!  What rites can we dream up for her?

As content as I am sitting here now, writing this, I still know how fragile I am.  I have...some problems...or...changes...happening.  With a relationship.  I mentioned how unmoored I feel to friend A, and she spoke so compassionately that my eyes filled with tears.  I wrote a letter about it to Z.  I figure, if I'm going to be open...keep going.  Like, be open with everyone that you can.  When did this become a novel concept??

Enough for now.

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