Snow sure fell on us in the valley yesterday, covering the long grass in a rippled blanket of icy white. The season is unmistakably upon us, and the heat and dry of the summer is all but forgotten here. Wood is piled high in the old wood bunk, split and ready to burn over the cold weeks ahead. There are a dozen logs piled up ready to cut and split, should the pile of wood come up short, which is not ideal, but ideal is post punctual. Ideal would have been the woodshed built, and the wood piled nicely in it and kept dry by a roof rather than a tarp. But troubles getting the building built have led to it taking up more than half of the old wood bunk and leaving much less room for a full pile. The Chimney still needs cleaning, but it is taking the smoke up just fine for now. Preparation is not ideal. Then I stop to ask myself if I am prepared for anything at all at this time of my life, and my anxieties arise.
I burned a sign in a piece of wood yesterday with the Glowforge, and am really happy with how it came out. I think I can work with the results and make some signs to put up for sale at the Market. I also tried to burn a picture into the wood to see how it looked, and the result was again satisfactory. I think there are possibilities available there, too. Alignment is not perfect, but I can make the print smaller than the block of wood and then trim it down around what’s printed and center it that way. We will see. I need to get some blanks made of a consistent thickness, and try burning them for a finished project and see how they come out.
I have the big wax melt on, and it is ready for me to pour some more candles. I want to get some more pinecones and trees ready for the Christmas markets coming up. I will do another colonial taper candle pour, too. This reminds me that I have the 9-inch mold in the freezer, needing me to see if I can get the candles out of it. I could not get the thing to release the candles in it, so I gave up and tried freezing. I did get one out, and honestly could not right now tell you where it is. But it is 3:30 in the morning, and I should be asleep right now.
Garrison Keillor is playing on the bedside screen right now. I play the ‘News from Lake Woebegone’ each night as I sleep. I really admire the storytelling involved, and I think kind of hope osmosis delivers my mind the ability to tell a few tales myself. It is an art that seems for me like fruit remaining after winter frost has destroyed the vine and the leaves that nourished it all the summer long. Are those summer days gone? It would be inconvenient for a fellow who still needs to earn a living, and likewise does not know from where the nourishment shall come. Age is a vicious thing. One feels still so viable and so young, but the mirror puts forth a counter argument that looks worse and worse each day. So, I listen each night, and hope that the ability to grow ripe fruit will be fertilized in my sleep.
I think it is a generational thing that I feel detached from the culture I was brought up in. There are traditions that I remember from my childhood. But those revolve around things like a Christmas tree, some gifts, family, and time together. Of course, being a kid when those ideas were planted in me, I centered the ideas around the gifts and the magic of the season. As an adult, that magic is up to me to create, but I just don’t feel it. It is a commonly told Christmas story, so I don’t quite think that is where I will find the story I am looking to tell, though telling it anyway might be good practice. It just feels like a dead horse. It feels closely related to the story of the aged man who feels like the world he grew up in has faded and been forgotten and left him ready to leave the world that left him behind. It is best described as a hollow feeling. And I am not so sure that is the joy I want to fill the world with.
So, I am kind of down right now. I don’t want to be. But finding the happy droplets to grab hold of is like waving my hands in the mist and grab a handful of water to fill my glass with. It compels me to write when I feel this way, so that is a good thing. And any good thing is worth experiencing, even if it is totally ironic! So, Irony it is!