5038: The Divine Insanity of the Days from Lincoln County Watch
By Anna Von Reitz
A friend asked me to describe my life these days.
I thought for a moment.
Is there any way to describe this?
No,
better to describe the turning seasons, the way the light shifts so
quickly in these high northern climates, the Arctic Desert transforming
almost by the hour.
Mushroom
Season came and went so quickly this year I barely had time to snatch a
basketful here and there, and less time to notice the brief interlude
of dusky rich mushroom smells exiting the food dehydrator. The 'shrooms
are preserved for unknown days and hours, a handful of Morels, some
Shaggy Manes, some Oyster Mushrooms, a few stubborn Shitakes.... not a
lot of mushrooms this year. It was at once too dry and too wet by
turns, never allowing for the mellowing of moisture that erupts
overnight into a bountiful crop.
The
Leaf Fall, too, has been abrupt. One day all was green, the next day
all was gold, followed by a single big windstorm, and now, the forests
have assumed that appearance that one associates with late October in
warmer places, the storm winds having teased the great preponderance of
leaves from the trees, so that now, all that remains are single large
birches standing like torches still burning in the gloom.
The
birds have been gone for over a week and the silence is deafening in
its own way. I would welcome even the mournful question-call of a Raven
asking, "Kuaahwak?
Instead, the whole Earth seems to be holding its breath, waiting.
The
worst of the holes and bumps in my driveway have been repaired; I can
look at that with some satisfaction. I won't have to skate across my
driveway this winter for the first time I can remember. The giant
Cottonwood stump is also gone at last, carried away in the jaws of a
thumb-bucket the size of a Volkswagen.
All
the cars in the Community Fleet are in for oil and fluid changes,
topping off of radiators, studded tires, and whatever small repairs they
need; we mourn the loss of our members, but we are happy for them,
too. One who is now sending us postcards from North Dakota and gushing
about her new job, and a former abused wife, now living in Arkansas, who
called to say she's getting married again.
And no, he's nothing like the Other.... so-and-so.
I
stare at the old cars and trucks parked around the yard, yellow birch
leaves scattered across their hoods. I can remember all these people who
came here one way or another, and got matched up with these gallant old
cars --- each one desperately needing a car to form a gateway to a new
life: transportation away from blows and threats, wheels needed to
finish college, to make it to appointments at the hospital, or simply to
make it to work and earn some money to support a family, even to keep a
family together.
"Your yard looks like a wrecking yard and it used to be so nice...."
The
inconvenience of parking the Community Fleet here for a few weeks comes
and goes; soon enough, there will be new faces, strained and under
pressure. I know that look by now. They will be facing the winter
without hope. No way to haul laundry or groceries. Three kids. Wife ran
off. Will lose his job if he can't get to work....
Boyfriend brought her to Alaska and abandoned her here.... the circumstances and the stories flow onward like the tide.
Just when I think I've heard it all, a new variety of "Moose Munge and shoved in it" walks through the door.
My
Sons made me promise to get out and enjoy a beautiful fall afternoon. I
did. I checked over my gardens. The decorative yarrow plants have all
been trimmed back, ditto the lupines and larkspur and delphiniums, the
lavender bush has been raised and repotted and taken indoors, the
rosemary, too. Corn lilies, miniature cypress, calla lilies, also. All
that can be saved from the frost, has been. My houseplants and their
country cousins from the outdoor gardens are settling in for a long
winter.
I drank my late afternoon cup of turmeric and mango and ginger tea.
I
plucked a last bouquet of Violets and Blue Bells of Scotland for the
breakfast sideboard. In the morning the men will all drag in looking
haggard, slouching their way to the coffee machine, lining up work,
setting schedules, making phone calls, arranging details.
Investigations, research, international relations, more phone calls. It
all gets so overwhelming.
Yet
they will see the flowers and get a Cinnamon Roll, some fruit, and a
cup of coffee, small sustaining things and acts of kindness that nobody
is counting will take the edge off the day and the urgency, like a sign
board saying, "Take a deep, deep breath!"
A
couple of days, a couple weeks at most, and the hard frost will come
and the Earth will be hard as a rock for months. The snow will come,
too, gently at first, and then, in deep blankets.
I
pray that we can get the last of the excavation work done, that we can
set up a new pad for a mobile home for one of ours in desperate need,
that we can put up a moveable fence for a dog yard, that we can --- in
addition to all else that we are doing --- haul in the last supplies for
the winter food storage, line out the car fleet, climb a high ladder
and slather asphalt over a chimney boot, finish bucking up firewood,
fill up the extra propane bottles, get the lawn mower cleaned up and in
winter storage, and so much more.
All that has to get done in this little space of blessed time, all colored in tones of blue and amethyst and gold.
I
think that some people forget the struggle that we each go through, and
imagine that the Federation is like the Federal Government that was
named after it, born with a silver spoon; but no, I hate to tell you,
that isn't true. We were born in Valley Forge instead. We don't tax
anyone. We boot it all up and we do it ourselves, because that's what
you have to do when you self-govern.
That's what I mean when I say, "it's just you, me, and the chickens."
The
Federation is no well-heeled monolith fueled by foreign financiers; its
people with lives and jobs and families, housing issues, businesses to
run, and more than their fair share to do, as we individually and
collectively weigh in to restore our American Government.
We
each have to do whatever we can do in support of our cause and our
people, our communities, and our values. And somewhere in between all
the rest, find those moments to see the beauty, and take a breath.
In
the midst of all the craziness, the bad news, the uncertainties, the
concerns and tragedies and threats, it's hard to find your center and
stay there, unmoved by all the drama and chaos, and yet, this is what we
need to do. Stop letting others direct and hold your attention on the
evils of this world, and focus instead with all your heart and mind, on
what is good and simple and true.
Granna
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