Here I am, sitting at our kitchen table, a cup of tea to my left, a piece of honeyed toast in my stomach. Sofia's asleep on the rocker nearby. I have just stocked the wood stove with a hunk of gnarled cherry wood, the last of the cherry tree we chopped down 2 years ago out back. The wood shifts, the stove clinks and snaps. Other sounds? The clock on the wall. It's tick is so soft, it's like it's tip-toeing, apologizing for the sound "Sorry, I have to keep the time, I'll be quiet, don't mind me." The water pump in the cellar gives off this hushy moan. Richard must've turned the sink on upstairs for another one of the cats. Probably Oliver. And then there's the bump and clack of the keyboard keys. I'm a little stiff and self-conscious, correcting things, rewriting them, wanting them perfect. I lay in my bed, knowing that I wasn't going to get back to sleep and wondering if I did get up and begin this thing, where would I begin? 'Should I give a little background about how we got here, bring 'em up to speed? Explain a few things? Maybe give a little history of the area? What are you talking about?! No! If I do that, I'll try to figure the whole thing out and then I won't do it at all. Just get up! Get up now, go downstairs. Just write, now, write right now, whatever's happening, start with that.' And I got up, grabbed in the dark for something to wear, and headed to the bathroom and as I turned in from the upstairs hallway I was startled by the light coming in from outdoors. 'This is full moon strength,' I thought, but I knew it couldn't be full, not yet. And I bent down to look out the window and there it was in a clear indigo sky, the moon, just past half, hanging above the tree line, stunning, shimmering, showing off, its light sending the shadows of the tree branches stretching out across the snow spook house-like. It was glorious. This is one of the reasons I live here, moments like this, moments I would have dismissed at another time in my life, moments that now make me grateful to be living out in the boonies so close to nature, that remind me how rich life is, that make me smile like a goon. And they happen often. Not always as dramatic as the moon this morning, sometimes they whisper in, catch me by surprise. Simply walking down a country lane or up the rise behind our house. This place fits my life right now. I don't know why completely. Maybe it's needed solitude and quiet. Maybe it is the reconnection to nature and its pace, losing track of days. Maybe - as I enjoy saying to others when I recount how Richard and I decided to move from LA to Vermont lock, stock, and barrel - there's something about it that seems so illogical. Who knows. I love it.
And don't get me wrong. There are trying, frustrating, lost, cabin fever days, especially in winter. The snow stays here a loooong time. It closes in on you. You forget that anything had ever been green. And there are lonely days. There are days when I question why we're here. It all seems silly and stupid. I used to really make myself miserable grappling with 'Why did we come here?! What have we done?! How is this ever going to work out?!!' Then one day, around the beginning of December of 2007, something inside me shifted and I asked myself 'What is the problem here? Why the struggle?' and I realized that the only struggles and problems were of my own creating. Now those questioning and doubt days are fleeting. I choose to open my eyes and see all that is around me -- a shining moon, a wood stove warming, sleeping cats, snow, the view from our kitchen, my sweet partner, my sweet life --with gratitude and appreciation and joy.
I remember reading a wonderful book by Brenda Ueland years ago in one of those lost times when I needed inspiration and direction and I found both in the simple title: "If You Want to Write." It's a rich, rich book and things stick. What's sticking right now are 2 things she urged - to keep a slovenly journal and to always write in first drafts. That's what I aspire to do here. A running dialogue, a flow, a finding out who I am now, a celebration, a gripe, a forum for frustrations, a questioning, a playground. I don't know. I'll just write. And so, I've begun.
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