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If Only the Pensive was Real

There is something so beautiful to me about garden tools and plaid.

I tend to hide it, but in general I’m an incredibly nostalgic person.  It helps when you write poetry and stuff.  Because I’m so macho I have a hard time conveying actual feelings, though, but I am trying to get better.  So here goes nothing.
The neighbors were probably rolling their eyes at me as I eagerly began taking pictures of my shirt and hoe.  (Yes, I know they watch me from their porch – they’ve remarked to my mother that my siblings and I provide endless entertainment in our backyard over the years.)
It reminds me of farming.  I’ve been gardening for years now, but January – May of last year I worked in Louisiana on a real, live organic farm, a huge dream of mine ever since I can remember.  Flannel and farm tools were prominent images during that time.  When I saw my little accidental sculpture, I felt sad.  It was a good time that I’ll never have again.
That’s the problem with basically everything about my travel adventures.  I’m left with the most beautiful memories of people, places, times, and events, but it’s so hard to realize that no matter what I do, it will never be like that again.  If I go back to the place, the same people won’t be there.  The same things won’t happen.  I won’t have the same feeling, I’ll have a different feeling.  There will never be any of that anymore.  It happened and that’s it – I’m left wondering if it ever did, and what happened to take me away from those things happening.  I’m left longing to hold on to all of it – searching desperately to taste the full moment at least one more time.  My memories are so entirely vivid… but so entirely vague.
Dumbledore had his pensive.  I’ve seriously always wanted a pensive.  I think it was the best part of the whole Harry Potter series.  Way better than a time machine.
I have to not think of memories in terms of “dammit, they will never happen again.”  No.  Memories are gifts.  Imagine if God decided it was silly for us to have emotional memories.  Yeah, we could remember stuff, but not really remember anything but the basic facts about it.  Things like music and smells and sometimes visuals take us right back to specific times in our lives and all the images and feelings come flooding back.  But imagine if that never happened.  It would be worse than the pain of nostalgia.
 
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Posted by on May 1, 2012 in Gardening, Memory

 

Early Farm Days

This is Samantha.  She is a 2 1/2 year old farm girl, sleepy after a long day of following all the Wwoofers around.  
Maddie plays gee-tar when not working in the fields.  
Red Giant mustard greens in the afternoon… ah…
The neighbors have cows who come and graze in nearby fields every morning.  
Dishes the better way.
The Wwoofer dining area!  Pretty much the best place ever.
“All good books have one thing in common – they are truer than if they had really happened.” ~Ernest Hemingway
Early morning kale, smells that mingled with frosted mud and sent my wandering mind back and around…
Foggy morning live oak and fence post; a perfect morning for a walk around the 65 acres I now call home.
 
 

mysterious bush flower

After laying around in the sunshine at Covenant waiting for the board meeting to be over so we could all go get food… nobody really went out for food after all.  Still hungry, I was determined to get some noms regardless (and some coffee for Barb).  On the way out to the car, I saw this pretty flower.

 
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Posted by on October 2, 2010 in Gardening, Photography

 
 
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