Autumn is here...oh yes oh yes oh yes

I entered the barn yesterday morning humming Zippidity Do Da, the weather had me perked for happiness and enthusiasm no matter what came my way. It is technically not Autumn on the calendar, but, for me Autumn begins on September 1 and I am always so glad for her arrival. The weather cooled off for us, I even wore socks last night and a sweater as we sat outside having a glass of wine.

Oh Glory!

I'm relieved for the animals too, who take any kind of weather without complaint. I'd rather see an animal in freezing weather eating hay, than sitting in humid and hot fly infested air. I think they agree.

So, on we go to the beginning of so many things, for that is what this time of year means for me-beginnings even amongst the dying leaves. Something is always starting. Ideas, new projects, new goals, new memories, new animals...are all in front of me.

I even got on Boone yesterday and took a spin around the fields. We hope to ride into the early winter now that the flies are pretty much busted. It was good to be on him again.

Conversation of the pumpkins

"What a beautiful day," said one of them.

"Can you move a little, I'm feeling claustrophobic," said another deep in the pile.

"Why did she put you on top, you are the biggest?" complained another.

They all sat heaped in the wheeled tub, waiting, their destiny to be decided by me, the steward of the place and that includes vegetables. Of course, Nature herself partook, and continues too. Some of their cousins rotted in the hot sun this year, but not too many. Those orbs fed bugs and grubs.

Some of these chaps will feed the pigs. Some will sit on our stoop for us to enjoy until they soften and then will be gifted to the chickens and goats.

I have always felt affection for pumpkins. How can one not. Yes, cynics will say I am humanizing them, Disney-izying their characters. But I really do sense them as individuals, much more than tomatoes or potatoes. Everything is connected. If I believe my father is dispersed now and exists in The Wind, and that my mother and father can be seen together as red cardinals, why would I not feel the individuality of a pumpkin, and here a voice out of that orb.

I have been shamed online for this before-but I truly take to heart that I'm eating things with energy and character, be it a bean or a carrot. Before I harvested the pumpkins, I started fall pruning in the front garden which is still young and unstructured. I mainly cut back the yarrows and Queen Anne's Lace, but I thanked them all and said I'd see them next spring.

So, it is the beginning of the end for each seed that is now a beautiful little orange orb. One by one, I will pick them out of the heap and feed them to the pigs. I like to think when they are taken off the vine, that's it, they never sense a bite. But who am I to say, who are you to say, if that is true? We will never really know, unless of course someday we are in fact, a pumpkin.

I did save one giant pumpkin out in the patch. Every year, Earnest and I try to grow one of those huge pumpkins. We grow our pumpkins in the compost pile which never require water, of course, adding daily water would help, but that defeats it all. We like to see how big they can grow simply with the sky's water, and the nutrients of equine and sheep fertilizer. We have had many big ones. Earnest always says that every year he will grow a huge pumpkin and enter it in the fair. But he never has-he either forgets to enter, or eats the pumpkin. But the idea that he might grow a huge pumpkin of award winning features is just a worthwhile venture for both of us.

As summer fades...we smile

It has been a humid August this year, and humidity is not my friend, or too many other's either. Since we never had humid summers in Oregon, I've never had to deal with certain things rotting in the garden. On the other hand certain things seemed to thrive this summer-the Queen Anne's Lace for example. But the rains we had, with humid days after, did seem to do some things to certain roots.

I could have an entire yard of The Queens, perhaps with sunflowers too, and pumpkins. Martyn has been patient with my Queen love, letting me keep large plantings of it in both the front garden and back private garden. We kind of have this unspoken rule that the front garden is more his, except for my hollyhock patch-step away from my hollyhock patch-and the back garden is more my garden. It's one of those couple speak things. We obviously are very united on how we take care of Earth.

And the cone flowers this year are phenomenal too.

I talk to all my flowers, how can I not? They are so full of personality.

But, as you can tell by this lackluster post, it is still August, and I am really no different than the plants, or leaves that are crumbling. I really feel this is what happens to me in August, I am no different than every other piece of Earth, I am ready to shed parts of myself, decaying skin and bits of dirt and hair, and start afresh in September. Fall for me is a revitalization, even though it is a time when Nature is prepping for winter. Winter for me is a long, caccoon of creativity and silence.

Fall always has a melancholy too. I think for me it is because it reminds me of days gone by-memories of being a kid and sitting in my leaf huts back in Minnesota, my mom in the house making a good dinner, my dog at my side. Back to school has that same revitalization for me-new pencils, the smell of the new books, who was my homeroom teacher going to be.

But for now, I do try to look at each flower head, marvel, and revel in it all-this setting, how we got here, and what will happen next. If I think of people now gone, or animals, it is not really in a depressed way, it is an acknowledgement that without them I would not be here in this exact spot and time...and that they live in my head.

When I'm old put me in the garden...please

I do not take my gardens for granted. I am graced by them, helped and soothed by them, delighted, surprised and never disappointed in them. And they are a requirement for my soul, I believe. What would happen if I could not have Nature and gardens meshed in my day? I don't want to dwell on that. I do think too many have become distracted to the point of not even noticing one flower in their daily life, or a the intricate details of a tree branch.

The elder visits I've been doing make me keenly aware of 'what might come". I also know many, including my parents, who lived their entire lives in their own homes, surrounded by things that gave them comfort, grounding and purpose. I don't have the answers for the aging population, not everyone can do that. It is a depressing thought to me to think of living in a place without Nature, without the ability to bend and touch Earth, and smell rain as the sky turns grey. Next week, weather permitting, Opie and I will travel an hour and a half to visit a small dementia home, on the sea, where Nature is a key point to how the residents live. They understand and value the actual past lives, and thoughts that go on in these people's heads, and they do not 'lock up the house'...rather, residents are allowed to go out when ever they want, and roam, with an attendant. The staff-to-patient ratio is set up so this can happen. They also allow pets, and have kept the pets on after residents die. Children were also raised in the house, mixing with the elders. I do not know the cost of the residence, but I assume it is pricey, and not all of us can afford this if our time comes to this. But it is heartening places like this exist.

If only the masses of elders and special needs could have facilities like this all over, at affordable prices, where they are treated as creatures versus patients put in a holding tank. Does it all come down to money? Or does it come down to the breakdown of the family system where multi-generations lived together and cared for one another. When someone was sick, or dying, the person was in the house. Children learned that grandpa had great stories and knew how to do a lot of cool things. My mother talked of this a lot, and told me many stories of the relative in the back room on their death bed-still listening to the sounds of the youngsters running about the house, smelling the scents wafting from the kitchen, hearing a familiar sound as simple as the screen door, the rooster, the dog, the mail truck.

I have always looked at my farm that way, a multi-generational community, sometimes birth is going on, sometimes death. How many times did I sit quietly with a dying matriarch of the sheep flock, while little lambs milked right near by? Those were spiritual moments, and I wish human death could always be like that–surrounded by the clan, familiar sounds and smells.

Gardens allow those of us prone to floating off [not always a bad thing] to stay grounded, right here on this realm where for now, we are supposed to be until we are not. When I die, I don't know what or where I will go, I think it will be something that meshes all the beauty of garden, animals, acceptance, safety and a feeling of worth into a skin of some kind, and maybe we won't even 'see' things, we will just be them and become of them, of their essence.

That is the privilege of having a garden, and land to work on-it allows you to become of it, without judgement. And when you do become of it, you reach your higher, calmer, less angry, less judgmental self-your higher being so to speak.

My intention has been sent out

Our private garden is protected from the outside world, but is open to the fields and pastures and The Wood. We had to do a bit of work to make it so private and I have to say I felt so exposed when we first arrived. I had a hard time with it.

I'm basically an introvert that likes to share. It makes things challenging to live in a world like this.

I still have had no elders from the homes Opie visits come yet. I have extended the offer many times. I know the residents want to come but it is a transportation issue, and/or a staff issue, logistics...etc. I understand. I have done all I can do to make it happen. They all have an open invitation.

So, I'm looking into reaching out to elder people that are still living in their homes, but might have caregivers or attendants coming to help them with basic things-groceries, rides, companionship. I have found a couple of networks that provide home caregivers this way, and I'm just beginning to reach out. I much prefer an intimate setting versus large groups, so this is a good fit for me.

I think of all the elders that I have met  over the years that made such an impact on me either because they were neighbors and I became friends, or I visited them in their home or facility and we developed a relationship. I really loved those relationships, they impacted me and I know I impacted them.

So stay tuned on the evolving Garden of Respite. I know there is someone who will come into my life who will someday be sitting there with me, looking out at the goats and other animals in the fields, enjoying the bluebirds and butterflies, and just getting out of their house for something different and uplifting. I've put that intention out there. It will come when it is meant to come.
In the meantime, Apifera Angels sent the two garden benches, and seat cushions! So we are ready to make our guests comfortable. I have thought of a pop up tent for shade too, that I could take down easily after visits. I'm looking into that.

The garden awaits those in need, sometimes I see her on that bench

Being able to have a garden is an immense help in my life, a place to be amongst color, texture, seed, dirt, butterflies and hummers. It's a place we painted together, me and Martyn, a creation we enjoy looking at, talking about, and envisioning what to move around like a working collage.

Lately, I have been missing my parents immensely. I think I know some of the things that triggered this, I don't want to share those things publicly, but it took me awhile to figure out why I would have this feeling of loneliness for them, come so hard at this time. I often think of them when I'm in the garden, they would have loved it here. Two old teak garden benches came from their Minneapolis home, and when they moved at some point, they gave the two benches to me and Martyn. My parents jokingly told me that we had to name one of the benches, "Bob" and the other one, "Kelly". When they come over and visit, we always laughed about that, because we never knew if we were sitting on Bob or Kelly since the benches were similar.

Sometimes when I sit and have coffee by myself now midday, in the garden, I look towards the other empty bench-but I can see my mother sitting on it, in one of her hats. I had so many talks with my mom on those benches, in her garden. A lot of those talks I would cry or share some issue I was having at the time. And often, we just sat enjoying the birds and flowers, or laughing about something. When I lived in Minneapolis, I was single and freelancing as an illustrator, my life was forming itself as I entered my late thirties into forty. I would usually have coffee mid morning with my mom. I remember one person telling me that I needed to quit doing that so much, that that was why I had not met anyone, I was relying on my parents too much emotionally. I am glad I ignored them. I am glad I spent so much time with my mom, and my dad.

My life and what I am doing with it, I believe, show I live my life in the present tense, but I am not ashamed to say I still miss my mother, and father. And some days, I feel really lonely without my mom to talk to, I feel like I will never feel exactly safe again, or understood again. It's a different kind of understanding from her than from my husband or anyone else, even my closest friends. I'm blessed I had a relationship with my mother that left such a void.

The idea one is not living in the present if they miss a dead parent, friend, or pet...is rubbish. Death is part of life. Dead people and creatures don't leave us, but they live us as living bodies. Being sad they are gone...is not throwing away the present, it is not avoiding the reality of death-it is simply living with an open heart. I know people that get stuck, they can't 'move on' after a pet dies, or parent/person. I understand how that can happen. To say that person should 'move on' and live in the present, is unfair and arrogant. Nobody knows the make-up of another's heart, mind or soul. If a person simply can't get another dog after losing their old dog, that has nothing to do with not living in the present. It simply means a new dog might bring more pain than joy. That is their heart work to live with, not anyone else's.

The blind one-eyed wonder must sense the peonies

Big Tony's grave amongst the foxglove