Ah, this is what it takes to make me come back to writing--three drizzly days in a row. This is all the monsoon we've had this year, and we need every drop, so it's welcome. But it's so unusual to not be able to go out and plant/dig/weed, so my creative energy needs this outlet. The alternative is house-cleaning, and I'm not that desperate yet.
It's been four months since my last post, and the sad thing is that this blog was meant to be a chronicle of life on the farm out here in the dry. Well, I've been busy. And it's not that things don't happen, or that stories don't enter my head as the weeks go by; they do, indeed. A friend once asked me, "How do you write?" I had to think awhile before I could say that stories show up in my brain, title and all (and in fact, sometimes the title shows up first, and then I have to find the story to go with it). Then it's just a matter of cleaning things up a bit, adding a few things here and there, and of course searching for the appropriate photo. Or taking the appropriate photo.
Here are a few of the titles to stories that never got written down:
Pooping Season (a philosophical discussion of manure and composting)
Meet the Dogs/Cats/Birdies
Antelope Butts in the Dawn (wildlife on the roads)
Cows (more wildlife on the roads)
Weeds and Their Friends (don't give me that "a weed is a flower in the wrong place" stuff)
Where Is My Monsoon?
Fog on the Barrow Downs (oops--wrong book--should be Fog on the Plains)
The Coming of El Nino (getting ready for winter)
Clunkerizing the Astro Van
Two Squashes and a Cucumber, and Lots of Sunflowers
If any of these appeal to anyone, let me know and I'll take a stab at filling in the story. Plus, I have pictures for a lot of these, too. I will make the effort to come up with new stuff, too. It's nearly time to get the rest of the irises planted, the garlic in October, and then time to watch all this glorious green turn to withered memory.
From the farm in the middle of nowhere,
Barb
