The Yellow Flowers and The Listless Vine

November 18 2022 

The Yellow Flowers And The Listless Vine 

I watched the steam twist and turn as it rose into the dimly lit room. The tomato plants in all stages of late life sat on the shelves beside me. One vine hanging from the ceiling, its leaves sagging listlessly, still carrying green and orange tomatoes. Another one has fresh shoots coming up from its original stem. Fresh yellow flowers bloom as if in protest of the season’s change. 

The ice that covered the world in whimsical works of frosted art this morning, a sure that winter is quite literally on the doorstep. 

All summer I had dreamed of being like the tomato that bloomed more flowers, somehow coming up with the strength and energy to fight the darkening days. I had to fight to find that energy in the summer when the days were warm and dry. 

I moved my foot to cover one of the overpowered jets and used it as a foot massager. Brent had put the pump from a much larger hot tub into this one when we salvaged it. This wonderful accidental upgrade happened solely because we did what we could with what we had at the time. 

I relaxed a little deeper, and stretched out a little more. It felt just like having a chance to star fish on the bed for those brief moments in the morning when the bed comes all mine. I star fished as I sank to the bottom of the tub. Covering my whole body, the whirling of the bubbles from the force of the jetted water dancing around me in flurry of warmth. The steam rising into the air around me. 

I thought about how great my body felt despite the chaos of the day. I have never been touched in the psoas before so even the knowing hands of a very skilled bodyworker touching the depth of my core was a very strange thing. To have that muscles fascia manually manipulated was a whole other inner body experience. I stretched out my torso and reflected on the limber feeling that now filled the middle of my once awkward feeling body. 

“You look taller” I heard twice today. I felt taller and flatter. I could feel parts of my body that I thought had left me for good 23 years ago when I had my first born. 

1.5 inches off my waist I had lost since last I looked. Now I wish I had payed a little more attention to those measurements as well instead of just the ones on the scale. 

I took a deep breath in and felt my ribs move freely. It was a good feeling to be able to breathe with less restriction. Now I fully understand why the horses I worked on for years loved me the way they did.

Another deep breath in and I switched feet. The yellow flower of the rebellious tomato plant caught my eye again. 

I set myself unrealistic expectations I have been told over, and over, and over again. I expect myself to do more than I really can. The odd thing is however that I can do more but not every day. Making those expectations not so unrealistic. There are these amazing days when the moon and the stars line up and I can focus on anything I choose and I have the energy to sustain me and my crazy ambitions all day as long as I want. The SPLAT!! I’m back to high functioning hot mess barely holding it together chasing the fairy tale of that perfect day. 

I wonder if the yellow flower is chasing the fairy tale of the perfect day or if she’s mastered the art of slowly moving forward with the tools she has. 

Another deep breath as I adjust my star fish position to find a new jet to massage my back. What a year this has been. So many of the things I managed to do I did with the ebb and flow of reality. Not everything I accomplished happened on one of those fairytale days. In fact it was quite the opposite. 

A flood of relief washed over me. I had managed to feel good enough to get through school, grow a bit of food, start Punink Pie under saddle and find my voice as a writer. There were days that set me back more days than I moved forward, but here I was on the 18th of November looking through the steam coming from a hot tub that took us four years to finally salvage, in the sunroom that Brent built for me when we first moved here at a flower growing when it shouldn’t be on a plant we started from seed. 

A deep breath out. Everything will happen when it happens. Not all days will be fairytales, but all days will lead to the future. And the future is starting to look pretty good now that I’m learning how to work with myself more kindly on the days that aren’t. I might not have the energy to bloom like I did all summer but I’m still quite happily ripening my fruit like the listless tomato plant hanging from the roof. 

As Simple As A Sandwich

November 16, 2022 

I slept until noon haunted by delirious dreams. There were strange realities and different realms of confusion. It was the strangest sleep I have had. As if I were having fever dreams without the fever. 

So covered in cat, I spent my day drinking things that help me feel better. Hoping to be rid of whatever is causing my weird ears and yuckiness. Thankfully my heel healed beautifully overnight by the end of the day I was walking without problems. 

By late afternoon I was finally ready to eat something. The gluten free flatbreads in the freezer that I save for moments when I'm in need of comfort food were a good choice for today. With a diagonal cut I separated the halves of the bread. Triangles being more fun to eat than rectangles. Spreading a thin layer of mystery pesto a dear friend of mine had just gifted me from the bounty of her summer's labor I started thinking about the food that I was about to eat. The green peppers plants that bore the fruit of the pepper I was now slicing are upstairs in the bathroom producing more fruit in our jungle of goodness. The tomatoes that bore the fruit I was putting next on my sandwich are growing next to them in the same bathroom jungle. The onion was a store bought one, and they made me sad that the tiny onions we did manage to grow in the garden weren’t here to be a part of my sandwich. 

The coho bits were left over from last night’s dinner. The coho that swam up the inlet, past our house to the old horse pasture, where it was caught and brought to us for nourishment. All parts we won't eat buried and nourishing the garden outside the front door. It melted beautifully into the tiny bits of goat mozza I have as a treat occasionally. 

A thick layer of fresh alfalfa and clover sprouts shrunk and softened as I heated the sandwich into a pile of homegrown goodness. 

Bread, cheese and onions. The only parts of the sandwich paid for by time sold to someone else. 

I thought about what has had to happen over the years for this sandwich. All the failures, and successes. The sweat, the tears, the mud, so many nights when all I wanted to do was give up because after all can’t we just buy food from the groceries store? 

In our case, no. The food is unreliable. The ferry gets canceled. The shelves go bare. That’s not why we grow our own food but it certainly makes it easier not to quit when it’s rained for two years and the puddles in the garden are taller than my boots. 

The sandwich that now so seems simple separated from all the complications of seven years worth of strife. 

I bite into it. The perfect flavor and crunch. The perfect comfort of hot melty goodness for a day spent on the couch covered in floppy cat. With my belly full of hopes and dreams I allowed myself to find even more inspiration in my food. 

The seeds for the 2023 garden came in the mail today, along with the first of the mushroom kits. Golden oyster mushrooms. I can hardly wait. 

After reading the instructions twice and carefully sterilizing everything I cut the X in the bag provided. The rich substrate made of sterilized hard wood chips and organic wheat bran smelled of the most delicious nutritious soil. Brent and I were both excited to see the white webbing of mycelium woven into the dark substance forming the symbiotic relationship fungus is famous for. 

I misted the small humidity tent and tucked it into the perfect spot in the bathroom jungle where it will have just the right amount of light and just the right amount of heat. 

Pea shoots are one of the only DOA rich foods and I found them to be one of the more helpful things for my strange histamine issues. The are however $7 or more a handful. That’s 20 minutes of my work day’s wages, not to mention that every handful comes in a very hard to reuse plastic container. So every handful of pea shoots that make my skin feel better for a day put a sizable bite in my paycheck and adds to my garbage guilt. 

So for one and a half hours worth of my time at work I bought 5 lbs of pea shoot seed in a reusable bag and this winter I’m going to get just as good at pea shoots as I am alfalfa sprouts. One species of plant and one method at a time I will figure out how I can grow my food. And if I’m patient with myself and find ways it will work for me then it can be as simple as a sandwich and I’ll get to spend more time snuggling my cats or riding my horses. 

The Taste Of Optimism

 November 14 2022,

I started my workouts again today. I wish I could say that I felt amazing and that my body was in the same shape Ieft it in. That is however not the case.

The short 15 minute work out that I half assed to say the least left me sore and tired and feeling as though I had worked out, which is I suppose the point of the whole affair. There was some sweat but not nearly as much as I sweat when I’m right into my workouts. Today was more of a fight through the awkwardness in hopes of recovering some grace in my movement sometime in the near future.

This tiny little workout has left me tired all day. You know what that means? It means I should have gotten back on the fitness horse much sooner.

There’s a nifty little lie I tell myself about how fit I can stay doing my chores and working my horses. Firstly the days are too short for decent fitness to come from outdoor work and play and the part about how my workouts work muscles I don’t work in life activities which in the end means my chances of getting hurt playing outside are minimized because of the time I spent focusing on the neglected parts of me. And if that wasn't enough on its own my doctor reminded me today that physical activity is very helpful in treating ADHD, and I know she’s right.

It’s not easy though. Especially in the beggining. And I hate to admit it but the discipline involved seems to be a little harder to come by these days. It makes me wonder if I use up my brains ability to be self disciplined at work. It could be just the season too. After all, it is the time of year that wraps you up in the comfort of darkness and makes sleep and rest so easy. This is the time of year I wish I was a wild human.

The garden is what really keeps me going right now. It’s something I can plan while the days are dark and cold and windy. The sprouts on the counter are turning green and providing us with food despite the days getting shorter and the rain getting colder. The little bits of green food sprouting the flavor of optimism right on the kitchen counter.

Tonka Gets Wet

 Day 2 Take 2

September 15, 2022

The weather stayed half decent most of the day and around 3:00 pm I finally made it back outside. This time Brent came with me and we wandered around the property making plans for all the wonderful things making their way into our future. 

Having finally outgrown the tiny arena at the bottom of the driveway it was time to start making the move into the top field. While the final resting place of the arena will be in the far Eastern corner of the property there is way too much work to be done before it reaches that spot. So for now the nice sandy almost flat spot that the horses so kindly over grazed on me this year will be the temporary home of the new and bigger arena. 

This thought not only excites me because I will finally be able to work on gait regulation with Punkin Pie, both on the ground and in the saddle but also because this is the only sandy piece of pasture on the property and the thought of sand colic terrifies me. Having it act as an arena instead of a pasture makes sense right now and I’m grateful for footing I don’t have to truck in. 

Brent and I continued to make our plans. There’s so many wonderful things that are about to happen here if we can manage to stay on track. The first of which involves some clearing of land that will open up new trails for me to ride on during the winter months. Trails that I dream of lighting with stings of soft white and golden Christmas lights. 

The nights have been coming a little earlier everyday and soon Horse O’clock will be 100% in the dark. 

The manure chore and the garden chore go hand in hand. The manure is layered into the garden as it’s cleared of the weeds then left to sit for the winter. Thankfully our wonderful house sitter left the garden in such a beautiful state. As if my fairy godmother had tidied it, breaking down the mental barriers that had made it so difficult for my ADHD brain to cope with. Instead of the garden being a place of guilt and failure, she transformed it into a place of love and beauty. Precious stones and shells were left in perfect places. All the little scraggly sticks and shrubs were removed. The garlic was harvested. It was a beautiful place that was welcoming and wonderful to work in. So that’s what I did.  

Preparing the soil to plant next years garlic I felt the dry sandy loam in my hands. I sifted out the moss and little bits of weeds thinking back to last year. Last year and the year before harvesting the garlic, tears in my eyes with frozen mud covered hands. This year felt like a special treat compared to last. Gardening and manure picking being two of my top shoulder trigger chores. Triggering a shoulder reaction could cause an abrupt and painful end to this cycle before it even gets going. I have come too far to waste any more time being in pain due to poor choices. So I did so sparingly. 

Tonka plodded along beside me. As slow and steady as you can imagine an old man trapped in molasses. I took a deep breath. Breathing in all the smells. There were so many. First there was mostly flowers and ocean with a hint of dirt, then the soft scent of rain. 

We continued to walk at a speed which you would expect Eore to walk to Piglet's birthday party. Nice and slow, nothing to get excited about. There was a reason that Tonka is my rest day pony. I relaxed, and worked at letting that feeling flow all the way to my bones.

The night grew darker as we walked on. The sound of rain on the leaves started to grow louder. I looked ahead at the streetlights in front of us only to see a wall of water headed in our direction. 

“I think it’s time to turn around buddy” I said out loud to Tonka. 

There was no refusal from him. As we turned and started towards home. The rain grew in size and came down harder the more we walked. My little pony who had been so slow only moments before begging to trot home. 

We made it home. Even though I was soaking wet I was happy and had a wonderful time. I turned off the workout on my watch and there was a congratulations message stating that was our longest walk yet. 2.39 soaking wet kilometers towards pur Pony Express challenge. 24.9 miles now achieved for the challenge. 

With the ponies fed I went into my gym, kicked off my soaking wet shoes and enjoyed my hula hoop, just like I promised my back I would.

*****

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