Firstly, I must apologize for not replying to your wonderful comments on last week’s post — I hope to get to them after I’ve written here — it was a Bit of a Week…the black tide* rolled in and submerged me for a while. It seems to be withdrawing now, but like all retreating tides, it’s left me some stuff to pick over. Some of it is treasure, lots of it is worn-out shells of things I no longer need.
Which is all very annoyingly cryptic, but since I don’t actually have any answers myself yet, I don’t have much of an enlightening nature to share.
As a result, I’ve been mostly analogue for the last week or so. And it’s been very, very good and healing and also good. :)
So, some snaps from a walk that deer-girl and I took yesterday?
There’s a distinct shift happening in the land, hereabouts. Subtle things, like an increase in spider activity — late summer and early autumn is the realm of spiders and I find myself getting festooned with webby bits when I go to let the chickies out in the early morning. There are also more of the lovely, dew-dropped confections appearing, strung between flowers. I always imagine them as leftover party decorations from a faery revel.
It’s darker, too — earlier in the evening and staying so longer in the mornings.
The farmers are harvesting the oats and winter wheat. Our dairy neighbours are on their third cut of alfalfa. The feed corn is tasseling and the sweet corn has appeared in roadside stands. Goldenrod, asters, Queen Anne’s Lace…the late summer wildflowers.
Every once in a while, I get a whiff of autumn on the breeze.
And for someone who, historically, is not a big fan of summer — I find myself wishing it would hang on a bit longer.
Oh, I’ll be happy to see the back-end of the hideous humidity (although, in all fairness, it hasn’t been as awful as last year), but I can’t help but feel that the summer has flown by far too quickly.
We have a list of things we’d like to do written on a scrap of paper and stuck to the fridge — our summer bucket-list — and I look at it and think we’re running out of time.
I suppose I’m just not ready for it to be autumn yet, with all that it entails and precedes.
On a more magical note — I saw one of these in the garden yesterday! (see below)
It was about 6pm and I was bringing the washing in off the line when I saw it out of the corner of my eye. At first, I thought it was a small hummingbird — a young one, perhaps, or a variety I’d never seen. But then I noticed the antennae and I realized it was a hummingbird moth. I stood there for ages, watching it buzz from flower to flower (it was feasting on the bergamot)…purely mesmerizing. One part of me wanted to go and get my camera, but most of me just wanted to stay and gaze at it.
I’m glad I just stayed.
You get the idea of its tiny miracle-ness from this handy dandy Googled image.
So yes, there are shifts in the air. In the land and in my heart. The gift of my particular version of the black tide, is that it always leaves me with a greater sense of clarity — I can sift through the flotsam and jetsam and come out the other side, lighter and less encumbered. More certain, I suppose, of what I want in my world and what simply isn’t for me.
And so that’s my work for the next while. Good stuff, really, even though it’s seven circles of hell when I’m in the middle of it.
I’ve deemed my Instagram experiment to be over. The result? No thanks, after all. It was lovely connecting with friends again, but I simply can’t do it. The drawbacks for me, far outweigh the benefits.
I’m currently reading Deep Work by Cal Newport. Super fascinating stuff and definitely excellent thinker-fodder, it’s juicy to have the neuroscience to support my long-held beliefs that internet distractions are from hell — my contrary nature, however, notices the clearly male-centric focus . Of course, I’m only two chapters in so I may be pleasantly surprised. Anyway, I have more to say on the topic of deep work — and how I see myself moving back into a practice of that, after becoming increasingly fragmented by things like, oh, I don’t know —— instagram? :O
I’m feeling very pleased with my pollinator-plantings just now…I have a corner of the garden that’s almost entirely native wildflowers and it’s like pollinator rush-hour there, at any given moment in the day. It’s taken a couple of years to establish itself, and certainly wouldn’t win any tidiness prizes but oh, i can’t tell you the joy it gives me to stand there and watch all of the activity. That’s where my new friend the hummingbird moth was spotted. Pure delight, I tell you. Highly recommend. Not that any of you need convincing.
Right, that’s all I have for now…I hope this finds you well.
see you soon-ish,
*the black tide is my interpretation of the experience I have with mild depression — the imagery of a tide seems to fit for me, better than that of the black dog. It tends to wash over and engulf me, rather than just follow me about ;). I’ve also found it’s better and more helpful to simply surrender to the current rather than try and fight my way to shore.