Rain, rain, rain. Now the weather changes quickly. Now everything swells to its final burst of color-- the mums and marigolds, vibrant golds and burgundy; pumpkins, gourds and squash. The days hunch forward, stretching shadows to an earlier darkness. Still frog song near midnight, coming home Monday night, lugging my bag full of work. I've corrected hundreds of papers in the past week, only to collect more. The semester is in full swing.
Because of the rain, our pigs have been breaking out of their pen. I guess it was a six hour round-up, starring the pigs and my family, Peter, Meghan and Nick and my visiting brother-in-law, Jim. Have you ever tried to con a pig? Here piggy, piggy, piggy. It took all of them to lure them back. I guess they found their way into the duck pen, and the ducks were paralyzed by the sight of the pigs, hiding, still as shadows in the shed--didn't move or blink. Hopefully, the secured pen will hold. Once again, our family's animal whispering skills were put to a test. I think Peter speaks fluent pig, chicken, duck, cat, dog . . . But I think these pigs are defiant, like unruly teenagers, or so Peter says. I think it's going to be tough love. Stay in your pen!
On Thursday, I'm taking my Encounters class to Bush Mango for a West African Dance class. Can't wait to see their reaction. I love this outing. It unlocks me-- loosens the cramped and stuffy parts of my body. I leave the class feeling so alive. I know I should be doing this type of movement daily. During the summer our farm work gives us that all out work out; but
now as the season turns and we're closing up the gardens, we know that our outlet is drying up.
So what to do, what to do ? Need to establish another routine.
I also know that the movement unlocks my creativity. I've been sputtering since the semester began. Need to reestablish the stolen hour.