(Did I mention I watched Gone With the Wind with the DHFs in Kentucky? Because I did. And it permanently warped my brain so that now whenever someone says anything about land I basically re-enact that scene where all the voices in her head go “TARA” and it scares me a little.)
Today was a great day to dig. It was warm and sunny and extremely windy. I dug my garden at Grandma Vegas’ house and I spent like two hours hunched over gathering rocks and sticks for my herb garden and a basket experiment, respectively. Dad told me (as I was tearing dead branches apart and getting a million scratches all over my hands) that my great-grandaddy Enoch used to make baskets.
I think I am growing into my ancestry. Farmers, mostly. People who grew things and made things and knew things. People who lived on the land.
And that was when I had the whole TARA! moment and only snapped out of it when the dog barked in my face.
But I still thought about land. Mom asked me if it felt good to be “working in the earth” today.
It felt very good.
And Dad, whilst I was doing these things, was working on a bench he is building out of the wood from our old backyard fort. He tore it down when we moved and brought the wood over with this plan in mind. Of course, the sun was already going down when he decided to drag out his tools after an afternoon of yard work and neighbor-meeting. I found it interesting that he picked up sticks during daylight hours, but decided to start doing things that involved, you know, sawing in the half-light.
Then I got home from dance just now and he also set up a turntable in the basement.
More on this later.
For now, I’ve got to go to bed… (Hopefully I won’t have another horribly realistic nightmare like I had last night– it was that I got a phone call from the library telling me that I’d been rejected!)
Yours till the night lights,