writing for self-discovery

I’m dumbfounded.

Why has moving here, thirty miles from the nearest grocery store, nearest hardware store, nearest fast food restaurant, or Dairy Queen, made my life busier and more social than ever before?

I’m not complaining, but this isn’t exactly what I’d planned. I expected vast quantities of downtime to write, reflect, and daydream. I imagined isolation and a touch of loneliness now and then, solitary walks, and, okay, I’ll admit it, boredom.

How much wronger could I have been?! I think I’ve maxed out the wrongness scale.

So here’s the latest from Granny’s Landing on Fantasy Bay.

Let’s start with mornings. They’re glorious.  So stunning, in fact, that after taking this shot through my kitchen window, I ran outside in bare feet and jammies, climbed the ladder to my under-construction loft, and took another.

In jaw-dropping awe, I stood for many minutes, transfixed as the sun cleared the horizon.

Thirty minutes later, I was in Bear’s barn renovation, insullating the walls.

Construction is an ongoing theme. My garage/entryway/deck/loft addition is progressing.

Today, I sat under open rafters, imagining stairs, windows, a rug, as a lone cloud sprinkled a few cooling drops on my sweaty-hot head.

Did I say hot? Yesterday, it hit 103 degrees! The only thing hotter than the sun was the inside of my house. Even the sunflowers were wilting.

But that’s Minnesota. Extremes. It suits me.

On the social front, we have our community ‘meeting’ every evening at five o’clock. Whoever hosts provides appetizers. We plan our work for the coming day, moan, and groan over the latest political outrages, share poetry we’ve written, or ponder the meaning of life. Sometimes, someone has a deep, philosophical question, like, If time is a construct of man, is reality a neverending now? We keep ourselves entertained.

Then there was the garden. I planted one row of beans last spring. Gwen and W did the rest. All summer, they tended to weeds and watering while I went to South Carolina to visit granddaughters, then to Minneapolis to tend my grandsons. I showed up again just in time for harvest and the canning, freezing, and pickling processes.

Somewhere along the way, I decided to brew kombucha. Random? Not really. It’s a healthy alternative to my Spicy Tamarind Vodka fixation, a drink I was introduced to in Mexico.

Amazon had everything I needed. The brewing jar came from CraftaBrew.com with instructions and a cloth cover. An amber-colored, live scoby starter from poseymom.com and cardamom-flavored Ahmad black tea arrived, and I was in business.

Now I wait.

Isn’t it gorgeous? I can start tasting it after seven days. If I like the flavor, I’ll bottle it then, or l can let it ferment longer for a tangier version.

It’s getting late. I’ll wrap this up. But just now, the moon…

And a sky full of stars…

Good night, my friends. Sleep well.