It’s the windiest day EVER here in the high desert, and it’s wiggin’ my head in all sorts of directions but only for a few seconds here, then there, and then over back here. Sorta like riding the scrambler. In Indian Medicine, they’d say that today my vata is deranged. Translation: too much wind in the head and no ground for thoughts to land.
The wind is gusting around the house and whipping the poor aspens this way and that way and I’m afraid their young trunks will just snap. Oso won’t even go outside today. He sits by the door looking outside but when I go over to open the door for him, he does the back shuffle and rounds back to his comfy bed. He’s a little sad today cause his two cousins (my nieces) Abby and Katie left yesterday after a 4-day visit. He got tucked into bed with a soft pink blankie daily while Katie sang the song, “he’s the king of the united states!” she’s so wise to know we could use a heart like Oso in that position…
Katie is 6 and at that age where she externalizes every thought that comes to her, not holding back at all. While I know I can’t quite do that to the same degree (considering the thoughts that go thru my head), I was inspired by her open, unedited flow. And Abby (who is 10) is amazing. She’s so creative and simply one of the kindest souls I know. She painted this groovy sign for our garden which was our solution to Patrick’s comment, “how are you going to make a sign if rabbits can’t read?”
The girls loved our garden, even though they had to use their imagination as to what little green thing would grow into what big vegetable. We did harvest greens, and soon they were eating so much Arugula and Spinach right out of the garden that we thought they were really rabbits in disguise.
The other morning before watering the garden, Patrick and I looked at all the little plants, saying, Good morning purple bush beans, hello fingerlenes, Oh-my, you chards have grown overnight, and so on and so on until we noticed that 3 broccoli plants got munched to their single stems. My stomach dropped, and I felt like I was robbed. Invaded. We had plans the entire day but switched everything around to finally finish our fence so we could sleep in peace that night knowing our garden was safe. It’s weird, but I just never knew I wanted to be a farmer when I grew up. But I do and I am. I have Patrick to thank. He’s the brains behind the operation. But I’m a quick learner and hard worker with a green thumb, he says. I remember in school how the teacher would break the class into groups for some project, and I’d be so excited for it, but I’d get stuck in some lame group that for whatever reason just couldn’t get their act together. But NOW, I feel like I got in the cool group. We have such an ebb and flow, working together some days from 7 am til sunset with Bob Marley playing in the background. It’s so fun being in a relationship where together, we do things that we may have never done alone, or maybe with not as much gusto. We’re doing all the things we want to do: live in the mountains, travel the world, grow our own organic food, work for ourselves, etc., and have so much fun doing it all. Ahhh. I’m so blessed.
Patrick is traveling for the next 8 days, and since I’m finally caught up with all my work, I have this time to focus on painting for my August show. I am free to paint all night with music of my choice cranked up loud. I can let go and take risks knowing no one is peeking over my shoulder. I’m left alone to be ‘in the process’…the energy and excitement and the nervousness and fear. It’s a process I love and hate. The house is clean, and I have no real distractions–except for the wind, which according to weather.com is currently gusting at 57 mph, and well, we’ll see what happens. My only real goals are to show up every day at my easel and to not edit myself. I’ll let you know how it goes.
My friend sent me this Phillip Guston quote the other day, that when I read it, I knew exactly what he was talking about, only I probably work much much longer than Guston before I know that moment:
Usually I am on a work for a long stretch, until a moment arrives when the air of the arbitrary vanishes, and the paint falls into positions that feel destined.
That said, I better get painting so I can experience that again.