Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Eric and I take a rare moment to walk down to the water together this morning.
It's so hazy in the city today. Sitting on a bench together I suddenly become aware of how quiet it is. So unusually quiet, and very very foggy. It suddenly feels like a dream, and I started to realize that I was dead.
"Am I dead?" I ask outloud.
"What happens next?"
"You have to go back to work."
I have been living in two different worlds. Fall wedding season and starting to organize a flower farm.
We closed on the farm just shy of 3 weeks ago. suddenly it seems that time expands infinitely behind us and in front of us. try to see back to the beginning of this farm in 1820. then forward into it's future. building a garden; a lifetime flashes by.
Go out to the barn. leave the radio on inside the house and when you come back it's still on, talking away without you. Some classical npr offiliate from the chicago area playing classical music 24 hours. Intervals of strings and news from Washington
Someone has set a metronome.
It is located the basement hidden in the depths of the oilburner. It goes on
It goes off
Our lives are changing rapidly. Words like muck boots, roto till, vapor barrier, bush hog are now part of regular conversation. We finish a big wedding in the city then rush up the thruway. Each day we're there Nea and I take a long exploratory walks; surveying our kingdom. 110 acres plus or minus. She's oblivious of property lines and runs after a doe for a mile or so in the wrong direction. Have to get her a neon bandana for hunting season and hope for the best.
I've been ordering bulbs for spring brides. How nice to have a row of fritillaria planted just for your wedding?