Season of the Which

Lately, with the ground too hard to work outside and an injury landing me indoors with neighbors for a bit, I've been engaged in discussions and interactions with people I would normally shy away from. Most of the folks in my immediate world are a good twenty-to-thirty years older than I am, and they're financially stable. They've had varying degrees of success, but they've all had a wealth of experiences, and now they've got options. Work's drying up a bit. It's got me thinking about my own options... and even a bit excited about creating a little stability for myself.

Foreshadowing

There was a tropical feel to July's full moon as it rose over these har hills. A tiny bit of humidity still hung from the tease of cloud that had hovered over our high desert that week, as “monsoon season” played at breaking the drought. Nights now couldn't be more inviting for late summer night lounging (where's a hammock when you need one?). The moths and skeeters are incessant, the squash fatten to calf-size overnight, and the Chaco lines (or is it a dirt tan?) are beginning to look permanent.

“Revel in it now,” I remind myself... we've turned the corner toward Winter. That's right, Texas, Winter's on the march.

Photo, courtesy of my future-Texas-ex-pat friend Ryan.

The Road Show

So that thing about "yielding to life" I mentioned in my last post... well, let's just call it a well-timed lesson learned.

The sandstorm that came through in my last post was stronger than I thought. As soon as I'd picked up my shovel to set down roots, the winds changed and picked me up instead. I closed my eyes to this...

 

...and opened them up to this:

 Oz, minus the shorties.

Going with It.

Finally. The fat-encrusted sky finally turns from dirt to drizzle at 11pm.

Sunrise promised gentle conditions for the encyclopedic list of work I hoped to set in motion around the yard.

(Oh yeah - I now have a yard. You can't hold me, son.)

Queue bird-chirping and flute music.

After puppies were fed, mama had her coffee, and seed starts had their drinks of water, the sun somehow still hadn't made an appearance. After a trip to the hardware store, and yet more coffee... still no sun. About the time I was gathering string and shovel to head to the wheel barrow and start excavating 400 square feet of garden, in it came. The Wind. A miles-wide cloud of dirt not yet root-bound to the ground was raptured toward the heavens, where it caught a 60mph straight-line gust straight to my face.

(Aforementioned fat-encrusted sky obliterating view of previously sunrise-lit mountains. Boooo.)

Winter Skin...

... it's real.

Looking at my arms for the first time in months was a bit like returning to an old summer cabin after a long winter. You recognize the shape, the lines, the old scars. And some new scars. Yet, the closer you look, the telltale signs that it is in need of a little maintenance begin to emerge. In my case, the arid cold has taken liberties with my skin and needs a good coat of poly... I mean coconut oil. The decision to fatten up a bit to weather the series of 7-dog-nights has also gifted me a few happy, lumpy spots.

Week in Review (aka: Shameless Puppy Ploy)

Thirty years into life, and I'm still in wonder of weather, especially changing seasons.

It's March. And so far that's meant surprising temps (this time around, it's warm; last year was chilly), farm-ward looking, and a scramble to act on realizations gleaned from a winter of hermitage.

Maybe it's the World Cup coffee I insisted on drinking at 5pm talking, but I'm feeling my Restless Legs Syndrome kick in. Time for some footwork.

And....

"Now" is the new "Later"

There's just no clever way to begin this. 

Every single morning goes upside my head with the urgency to figure it out. If waste management systems weren't operating, what would happen with the waste I create (and I mean ALL of it)? Figure it out. When jobs dry up or dollars don't matter, what does a community of people trying to make it look like? Figure it out. And what if that food and energy's simply unavailable? Until the right radioactive ooze makes me invincible, I can look forward to a few, very ugly, last days without those most basic needs met. The natural response (and if it isn't yours, please know I am very concerned*) is to immediately and decisively, with no hesitation, Figure. It. Out.

Setting down (...and feeding, and pulling up, and eating....) roots.

The time finally came where handing over dollars for a bite of food no longer felt nutritious. Around the time of my last post, it dawned on me that though I may have never had an answer for "what I want to be when I grow up," I DO have a dream. Taking care of myself. To own a modest piece of land (or amazingly breathtaking, depending on what I can afford) where I will grow my own food, catch rainwater, and produce my energy - to be completely independent... Or at least know HOW to be...