Pyment on my mind, miles on my heart

My pyment continues to settle out yeast and is maintaining a good temperature even after last night when the outside dipped to a frosty 8F. The moon was just a drop down from full and the night was clear and sharp. If not for the 19 mph wind, I might have been tempted to build a fire in the pit and watch the stars come out. As it was I brought Durellen inside, made myself a mug of pipping hot orange tea, dolloped honey and settled in for a few episodes of United States of Tara.

The 2015 Murray McMurray Hatchery catalog came in the other day; I want chickens so badly. Winter brings a waiting time for all the promises of spring. For sure and in fact, we are getting our Italian honeybees when the weather turns warm. It means honey for the summer if we are lucky, mean in the autumn and winter.

I am also considering attending a writing class to sharpen up my ideas on how to write a novel and get it published. Eventually I hope to write about my life on my homestead, how I give back to the community surrounding Knoxville. In the current time, this is the function of this blog but the makings of a book surrounding my year with honeybees can almost be heard buzzing in my head. The course would be held at UT here in town, so I will look into the possibilities of enrolling.

My mind keeps wondering "I can see it but how I am going to get there." My homestead, something that seems to be soaking into my now life like wine into a carpet but only just so. I long for the day I can work for me, all day and into the night if I want to or must. I continue to clean houses in the mean time to put food on the table and pay the rent. Sometimes I worry that this is all my left will ever be, that I will put everything into this and not put for foundation to my dreams.

Negative thinking...it comes with the head cold. Cold sunshine in the morning will shake off those doubts and tomorrow is Friday and then the weekend. I will tuck in early tonight with a bowl of soup on my belly, under my unicorn blanket and next to my heater. I will remember to be thankful it is not -12 degrees F and say a prayer for Cold Antler Farm. Winter is a strict master in the white north.

I carry around a card in my pocket that says "One day I will sit on my homestead and I will not remember how this life left me hurting."

One day, I will sit there in my rocking chair and make it true.