I pick up my phone, turn on the battery-saving screen but then stop. What was I going to look up? I stare out the window for a moment---the window which opens to a yard covered in snow. A yard not meant for snow and yet, it wears it beautifully. A brand new, sparkling coat. A... Continue Reading →
Once again, rain is in the forecast for days and it reminded me of my ill-preparedness around this time last year. This time, I'll bring towels. In other words, I think I understand what I'm dealing with now. It's still cold and dreary but with the right tools, it might just be manageable. Of course, as I do, I'm writing in metaphor (for fun? out of habit? emotional inability to be fully transparent? Hesitancy of sharing too much on a public platform? I dunno) But I share and say to the extent in which I'm comfortable because chronic illness, rare disease, navigating the medical system as a woman who is also medicated for anxiety and OCD and being dismissed over and over and over and OVER again as "this is just your anxiety/stress/emotions" I so desperately want you -- you who might be struggling with some similar circumstance -- to know that someone out here gets it. And if you're desperately searching for answers and truths about yourself and why things might be happening the way they are, please don't stop. Don't give up. Take breaks and breathers when you need, but then keep exploring. If the road is blocked, find another path. Look for helpers along the way. And always, always, bring your towels when it's pouring. That original post here I love you. Jess
For the third day in a row, it’s pouring. My grumpy donkeys huddle together in the barn as the rain batters the tin roof so loud that it rattles my bones—it must be deafening to their large ears. After piling their feeders with extra hay in lieu of typical grazing time, I pull the hood of my rain coat over my head and slide the barn door shut behind me. Like a million pellet guns, the drops strike my whole body.
The ducks scatter around the yard, rain wicking from their slick feathers. Like children in a ball pit, they bounce and play gleefully in the growing muddy puddles. The chickens on the other hand, band together in one of their coop’s nesting boxes even grumpier than the donkeys—wide, feathery, pissed off floofs. I make sure they’ve got dry food, then check to make sure none of my little infant…
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“Enough pails of water—a river.”-Ancient Proverb Because it’s been ages, I ventured beyond the borders of my own few-mile space in an effort to reconnect with something resembling a world bigger than my own. I stayed outside 1) because COVID cases are surging and 2) because we have a rare blip of goldilocks perfection on... Continue Reading →
seasonal sunset before the year's long night— sleepy descent into creative darkness. seeds germinate beneath the cooling ground; there is [i think. i hope] healing in that stillness. i wish and pray for triumphant, awe-inspiring blooms when we all wake. i'll do my best to make something beautiful. i love you, jess
It’s morning, although I’m not sure the time. Dew still twinkles and slides on every surface and small critters---be them squirrels, rabbits, prairie dogs, or a mix of them all---shuffle and scuttle in the tall grass. High up in the pines, mockingbirds chack-chack-cheeeooo back and forth, back and forth. Summer sticks around most of the... Continue Reading →