No, I am not feeling down. I wandered into the woods today and picked my first quart of wild blueberries. Heaven. As I was picking I kept hearing songs in my head that had the word “blue” in them. And yes, I was singing to the berries. It was fun to crank my body around with something besides raking and belly dancing.
Things are coming together for building our strawbale. We got set back a bit when the “indestructable” tamarack logs we bought last summer were rotten. Since we want to start with good materials, Milt has been out searching out the log situation. I think he has it covered now and the roof should go up maybe next week. Then we play with straw. I think we will be like the three little pigs. After the straw house, I want to build a stick house (cord wood), and one from brick (cob). For now I have been breaking down mountains of slash and spreading the composted dirt over the “yard.” Do you call it a yard when there are ten acres of undeveloped woods and field? I guess it will be–I planted grass seed into part of it today.
It is time for me to get back to my own writing. I can feel the itch begin to build and I think I will start with returning to the novel “Still Mountain” which I never finished. Or maybe morning pages to see what is “composting” down inside of me.
Tomorrow we start a three day festival in Cass Lake with the Bead People. I am looking forward to it but I want it to warm up. The blueberries must like this cold weather but I am longing for a bit of sun and heat. We have been running our small heater in the camper to stay warm. Brrr.
Life in the northwoods . . .
Jamie