Gaining Ground

Another early day with much in the way of plans. Good things are in the works. A twelve pound pork shoulder is slowly cooking away in the oven at a tender 275F, laid in a shallow sea of apple cider vinegar, rubbed in a glorious trifecta of sage, salt and cumin. Drizzled with a little honey and massaged in sweet cream butter, it will slowly roast until the meat slides seductively off the bone. Floating in the apple cider vinegar is a small bouquet of peppers, to add just a little heat. Chamomile tea steeping in the big pot, soon to be a pitcher of slightly sweetened herbal tea. I complete a couple quests in Dragon Age II while the household is still asleep, allow myself the small indulgence if visual entertainment before shutting down the console and heading back into the kitchen. The tea has scented the middle floor of the house in the cozy, warm note of chamomile flowers. It is a smell I will always associate with comfort, well weathered and beloved old mugs, Kieran Rose and Angela. It was Angela's favorite tea, with lemon-ginger coming in a close second. So much so that in her favorite mug, which sits right by her urn, I slipped a Cozy Chamomile tea packet into the bottom of the cup.

It is the little things we remember to do that bring us the most healing and closure. 

It is a beautiful day today. The sky is nearly clear, a sharp blue only occasionally dotted with puffy clouds. I am catching the notes of recently cut grass, wood smoke and Autumn blooming flowers from the open window. To my right, the mouth watering smell of the roasting pork greets me. The small pockets of spice intermingled with the scent of warm honey and powdered sage. In breath in deep and cannot help but smile. 


It is a start.

Slowly, I am finding my footing back to joy. I noticed it when I could walk away from a moment anger without losing my control. I noticed it when I employed mercy instead of ruin, even when ruin could be justified, if not just. I am sleeping better, breathing easier and I can smile without feeling forced.  

Slowly, I feel the river bed rise to meet my feet.

Slowly, I start to gain ground.

Two Hands; One Beating Heart

Dawn breaks cool over the Clanhold this morning. Awake at 6:00am, I laid in the bed until 30 minutes past. After that my brain was too aware for more sleep and I wandered downstairs by the light of  an apple scented candle. The gentle breeze outside tugs at the branches of the dogwood tree, birds sing softly in the yard. Durellen, my black domestic short haired cat, sleeps contently on a blanket beside me. My tummy reminds me that there are pasture raised, farm fresh eggs in the fridge and my mind turns to possible ideas for breakfast.

Still waking up, I put on Paula Cole's Album This Fire, humming along with "Where Have All The Cowboys Gone?"

Some of you know I have been going through a low spell due to several contributing factors, the least of which has been losing roughly one half of my current novel project to data corruption. When you fall off the horse, you got to get back in the saddle. So they say but there is no mention made whether the horse in question has the good graces to wait for you before it runs off. Or stand still, even pause a moment to let you get your foot and shaking heart back in the stirrup. I have felt for the last two months as if I have been trailing the horse, getting just within touching distance before the mare's head comes up sharp and through my fingers the reins do slip


Such has been my battle with depression. 

There have been other things but they are of a more personal nature. Relationships ended. Trust tested to the breaking point. The myriad joys and woes of parenting. Late summer was so much having known one's place and then given reason to question it. It has felt a little like floundering in a great river, loose purchase on the rocky bed below,. The cold and rushing currents confusing me and diverting me from my course. The mutual desire to want to talk to a friend about certain things and the knowledge that in sharing some news, you change the lay of the land. The adage "True but Unhelpful." immediately comes to mind. I have, however, not allowed myself to wallow in this gloom. I take measures to bring my head above the water line; creating illuminated artwork and shading a coloring book I got off of Amazon. A color book that is full of cats. Somehow, by indulging my inner old cat lady I slip the chains of sadness and fly free into blue skies. 

Everything little bit helps.

The Clan in currently in full residence with Kieran being on Fall Break and Rhiannon having returned from her seasonal work. She will be with us for a week before she is off again on her adventure, diverting down to Georgia before heading back to Texas and work. Colin is working overtime as a new series of projects gets underway at the plant, Seamus has picked up editing work to boost our income. I plan to reopen my cottage bakeshop on October 12th, hoping as we go into the holidays Indigo Pastry can fill in the corners. Extra income and, in the same motion, provide me with some soul lifting work. 

I will get back in the saddle, I am catching up to that rogue mare yet. I know that deep inside, I have a momentum that is hard to withstand and difficult to stop. Eventually, this storm will pass me by.

I think October will help in its own way. 

I've got two hands, one beating heart.
And I'll be alright. Gonna be alright.
I've got two hands, one beating heart.
And I'll be alright. Gonna be alright

 - Ingrid Michaelson, "Girls Chase Boys", Lights Out

Silent Sunday

Weathering the Storm

My plans for visiting Georgia this weekend got nixed by the onslaught of heavy rains here in the TN valley, in addition to being under a flash flood warning until Monday. *sighs* So it goes but I might have a chance to visit both friends and family come the second weekend of October; we'll just have to see what the week holds in store for us. Right now is is 61F, rainy and with little signs of stopping. Which means it is a fluffy sock wearing, hot tea, wrapped in a blanket weekend for me. I might brave the elements to see if the Market Square farmer's market goes on or gets rained out.

So that is my plan. Curl up with a good book, like The Curse of Chalion by Lois McMaster Bujold, and light the candles in my room. Even though the coolness in the house is nice compared to the stifling heat of late August, the hurricane now pounding the Bahamas is driving a cold wind down from the mountains. Fire is ever a comfort, even if it is an emotional and not so much a physical one.

Throwback Thursday

Briar Rose Elizabeth King- Sunday- 08/19/2012- 12:11pm- 7lbs 3oz and 20.5 inches

Georgia, Georgia, what peace I find...

In two days time, I will be headed down to my home state of Georgia to visit my family and celebrate the birthday of a magnificent friend. I will be leaving Friday and come back Sunday.

The lingering warmth

We are a week into Autumn but the warmth of Lady Summer lingers still. It is warm in the house today but still cool enough (by my terms) to wear long pants. Today I wandered down to Karm Thrift Store in Maryville to take a look at the growing number of discounted fall and winter clothing. That was how I found a lovely knit sweater depicting two moose facing each other, bittersweet on cocoa brown.

A good way to start a new week.

Autumn Rain

The first rain of new Autumn falls gentle on the dog wood tree, that sways gentle in the cool breeze that rolls of the mountains.

It trickles over green leaves that looked as if they have been dipped in blood, splashed scarlet by the coming cold.

 It follows smoothly the contours of a hanging acorn, collecting at the point to fall to the dark ground below.

The first autumn's rain falls like a song, tender upon ear and soul.

It is both promise and warning.

It is both living and dying.

Samhain to come, Mabon undone.

There can be no denying.

Throwback Thursday- Fox Kit

Joy at Equinox

Summer has come to an end across the land. Today marks Equinox, the first day of Autumn has arrived. My soul soars high for this my most beloved season but grieves softly for the death of Summer, for he was ever a good lover and friend. Autumn comes on a friend, a riot of joy in saffron, carmine and walnut. All across the back acre, you can smell the sweet aroma of wood fires. The nights grow cool and we turn off the AC in the Clan Home and open all the windows. Many a night this week I have fallen asleep awash in cool Autumn air and I wake to find my hair scented with wood smoke. The taste of apples is sweet and light upon my tongue; soon I will take a knife to my last two pumpkins of the season. One will go in the over, rubbed all over with cinnamon and cane sugar, studded with cloves. The other will have a fearsome face and a candle withn. For the first time in my life, I have the knowledge that I grew my own jack-o-lantern. It fills me with a wild pleasure, mind full of acorns and fire kissed sunsets. The leaves on the dogwood tree, once a tireless green in summer, are now splashed crimson as bright as fresh blood.

I go into Autumn with a chocolate cake sitting on the counter. Today, marks the my husband's 31st birthday and the cake is make for him. Dark chocolate studded with mini chocolate chips, lightly frosted. It is beautiful and I cannot wait for him to get into it.

In small truth because it means I may have a tiny slice.

Tomorrow I must paint a banner for my SCA persona and make a tart for Her Majesty, Queen
of Meridies. I must also look around for my fine art pens which seem to have disappeared magically from my art stack. 

I suspect a toddler is involved and failing that, pixies.