Tuesday, September 22, 2015

if you know how to say "Appalachia", do you know how to say "flower"?*

There were asters today.  I was thinking of them just the other day, said to a fellow rider as we were remarking on the iron weeds and golden rods being pretty, that in the fall there are tons of asters.

Today they start.

There have been leaves on the bridge.  And great bright splotches of yellow in the forest.

And it is time for hay.  Counting up.  Figuring.  Making provisions.

I remember the year we found this land, got this land, and the tons of asters then.  I remember what the creeks looked like.  I remember some of what the road looked like then.  And us.  Hoooo boy.  Us.  Things do not stay the same. But maybe like the asters they cycle around.  No beginnings.  No endings.

So, yeah, the bears ate the sweet corn.  And we had such a great patch, and had one mess out of it and it was so good but just a tad under ripe at that point.  And then it was gone.  Period.  The hard corn needs harvesting now and then we'll see how much there is.  There was a decently good potato crop.  We did not have a great fall garden because too much life got in the way.  We have that luxury.

So much I would like to do.  Not nearly all of it will get done.  We will see exactly where the priorities lie.  Maybe not Tweetsie this year, but probably the new to us wood burner.  But maybe Tweetsie, you just never know depending on who gets the burr under their saddle.  Hopefully the road, and plowing the garden, and more fencing, and a shelter/feeding area for the big guy.  The stove would mean the library gets attention it so desperately deserves.  Well, hopefully it will mean that -- it is entirely possible it won't.  Flues always get attention but the roof needs it too.  Then there are the paid jobs.  The licenses.  The level 3s.  The lessons.  The writing.  The eating.

And, you know, us.

*helpful hint:  it is one syllable, but then so is Maryville.

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