Into my wintering den I shall go to hear more clearly the things I must know,
to see more deeply
I was awake before the Sun this morning, which is my preference. Although my sleep was rich with dreams, I slept well for the first time in quite a while, and I feel well-rested and eager to see what this day brings.
50-something years ago my parents started trying to teach me to always do my chores first. Those lessons never took hold the way they wanted them to, but these days, my way of doing things works well for me. I have been sorting out a morning routine that helps set me up for a good day because it allows me to focus on what I really want to do. In other words, I get my morning chores done first, then I can have fun. Thanks, mom and dad! You were right. (love you and miss you)
Yesterday I pulled chicken carcasses out of the freezer and put them in my stock pot on top of the stove. Then I added water, carrots, celery, onions, garlic, salt, pepper, and some herbs and let the whole thing simmer all day long. It wasn't long before the whole house smelled of comfort and care, so I used that as a little boost for a home energy clearing ritual. Multi-tasking kitchen witching is a lovely thing, friends.
At the end of the day, I separated the bones, meat scraps, and veg from the stock before pouring it through cheesecloth to strain out the tiny bits of left-behind stuff. The stock went into a pot to cool overnight in the fridge, and all the scrappy stuff into another for the same purpose. How strange when I woke at 6 am, that finishing up that kitchen work was the first thought on my mind.
I filled a glass quart jar with the rich stock so I can drop it off to a friend today and poured the rest into silicone molds to go into the freezer. Then I spent about half an hour removing the bones from the other goodness. The veg and meat mixture will go in the freezer so I can use it to supplement chicken feed.
Yes, this can be a controversial topic, and I gave it a lot of consideration before making the decision to give them the meat. The choice is between that or throwing it away, and I am working more diligently toward not wasting food or other resources.
The bones will go into the forest later this week, well away from human habitation. What isn't consumed by a critter or two will be consumed by the earth, and the cycle of life and death will continue.
I have a couple of other small projects to finish in order to neatly wrap up the remains of November. This time of year always brings an inward focus, and each year it seems I move ever more deeply into that space. This season is no exception.
I hope this day brings you whatever you want or need; peace, fun, quiet time, excitement, comfort, love.
Peace out.
"
It was 27 degrees when I woke at 5:30 this morning, which seems a fitting temperature for the first day of November. I knew it meant the end of the blooming Cosmos in the Cottage Garden, but hey...for everything there is a season. I also knew it meant I would have to thaw the chicken waterer once the sun rose and the birds were out for the day. But not in that moment. Not until the light came. Until then, I was willing to embrace my gratitude for my warm bed and the warm enough home that offers me safe holding. After the pup and the cats settled back down, I went back to sleep.
A few hours later, the chickens sounded the alarm. I looked out the window and saw them standing where I knew they would be, clustered around the waterer, raising a ruckus about the lack of service. The water in the shallow cups had frozen over, and they were unable to have their first-thing-in-the-morning drinks. Poor ladies. After I fixed their water, I offered scratch and mealworms to make up for the inconvenience they suffered, and they accepted.
All this time later, I have been at my desk. Reading and writing, thinking, crying, praying. When I felt cold, I was able to walk down the hall to fetch my sweater and gloves so I could be warm at my desk. If I really wanted to, I could turn up the heat, but I am being more mindful of the use of resources and budget than I probably have ever been. Plus, I'm a Gen-Xer on the cusp of being a Boomer, born to an upper-lower-class family. I grew up putting on slippers and extra socks, sweaters, or hats if I was cold. That's just the way we did things.
I had hot tea and warm bread pudding for breakfast. I made plans to go to an orchard tomorrow to buy apples so I can make homemade applesauce. I was able to text my children and message some loved ones. And nobody dropped a bomb on my house while I was doing any of these things. Nobody shot at me. It is most likely that nobody will shoot at me or try to kill me when I go to the market later on.
Part of being a GenXer/c/Boomer is that I thought the world would go one of two ways. Either the grownups would sort out all the hatred and violence and it would be done by the time I became a grownup, or we would all end up living some Mad Max kind of life. I thought we would educate and love our way out of racism, misogyny, and genocide.
But we haven't. And while I logically and practically understand it, I cannot, at any emotional or spiritual level, understand or accept it. It has been part of my entire life; it has shaped me and wounded me, burned and strengthened me, but still...I am left with mouth and soul agape at the seemingly casual response to the genocide being manifested in Gaza.
There are so many words wanting to pour out of my fingers onto the page, and I have to find the courage to let them out if for no reason other than maybe one person will read them and not feel so alone.
The meaning of this season is upon us. What shall we do with it? What shall I do?
