June 26, 2012 § 5 Comments
The current stretch of rainy weather has been most welcome; after nearly two weeks of perfect haying weather, things were starting to feel a bit dry, and the relief we felt as the first drops starting pinging against the tin roof above our bedroom was like exhaling a breath held two beats too long. I’ve been moving the cows to fresh pasture twice daily, and legs of all my pants are soaked from pushing through the tall grass. I don’t even bother to change anymore, and have become accustomed to the clamminess of wet denim against skin.
I suppose we are pushing hard right now, although motivation and energy levels are high enough that it doesn’t really feel like it. The list of daily chores is long and multi-faceted: Feed and water the pigs, the meat birds, and the layers. Move the sheep to fresh pasture, then the cows. Bottle feed Pip, our two-week-old heifer that Penny is intent on training to pull. Milk. Tend the gardens. In between, fell trees and mill lumber, find and haul foundation stones for the new barn. Finish splitting firewood for the coming winter. Tractor work for the neighbors. And so on.
Having just submitted a complete draft of book #3, I am allowing myself to pretend for a few weeks that I don’t need to figure out what the hell I’m going to do next. This is a bit of a dangerous game, dependent on our not spending on anything but the most essential goods and services. And even then, it can’t last much longer. Ideas come and go, I turn them over and then back again, sometimes in silence, sometimes out loud, trying them on for size. It often feels to me as if the ideas that intrigue me most are the ones that seem least likely to be salable.
But in truth, I’m pretty sure I’m just putting up roadblocks, trying to extend my working vacation to its last sweat-streaked, shit-stained, pants-soaked moment, and I’m damn grateful to be able to do so.