On the 3rd day of the Yellow Star wavespell (White Electric Dog), the farm house we rented decided it was time to shake itself loose. A strip job nearby had been wearing and tearing on old farm houses for awhile and our chimney was cracking open from the shaking. That day, the smoke rolled back into the house and out through the holes because it could not get past the chimney blocks fallen inward. I stood in the yard and held the collars of two white dogs who had become a central focus of the whole neighborhood.
In the morning, brilliant sun had streaked across the sky and then the clouds rolled in. The groundhog, had he been looking around down in Williamsburg, WV, would have seen his shadow and predicted a long winter and a late Spring. He would have been right.
That night was a cold one and when a neighbor asked if we wanted to stay at her house the next night, we were grateful. It turned out to be a bad idea, as she told us, "I never would have invited you if I'd thought you'd take me up on it."
2 comments:
So sad to think of you losing the farmhouse. You have to be one of the strongest women I know because you've weathered so much of late. Guess I could say that about me with the hellish last few months we've had, all due to health issues.
Hope with all my heart that you are both healthy. Well and on the way to landing where you are supposed to be. Let me know how things are going. Or write a story about it. I find when its something negative it takes years for me to form words about the event. Sending hug and warm wishes. Barb
ty, Barb.
I'm sort of looking forward rather than back right now. We are in our second Saturn Return and this one has shadows of the first one.
Only time I really felt bad about it was the day I actually sold Lilly. She's due to have her babies soon and I was looking forward to my little goats and also to getting that milk and making cheese and yogurt anytime I wanted. Was going to make soap, too and give it out next Christmas.
I say I'm looking forward instead of back and that's true -- but also trying to stay in the present. I tried to push the river and jumped in that stream before it was time to do so. Had to get washed out to find my way back to solid ground. We'll get our homestead. We will. But not quite yet.
You're right. Writing about it is a good thing. I'll take that as an assignment in the days to come. Partly on here and partly in my new notebook (I've gone back to paper and pen)
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