A ridiculously long post from America's Icebox

If you're already one of the unlucky folks on my list of email recipients, you've already seen this bad boy, so just skip right over it. It's been requested that I add it to the blog for posterity's sake.

Apologies,

Charis


Hello friends!

It’s happening. No matter how I fight it. The accent is creeping in, and I hear myself – the nasal As and round Os – and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Somebody send help right now. I’m starting to sound like Maahrge from Faahrgoo and it’s not pretty.

They’re telling me it’s been a ridiculously mild winter thus far, and Becca is convinced that I’m wielding some sort of X-Mannish power over the weather, as things got weird as soon as Jay and I showed up. After all of the warnings of super-humid heat and freeze-dried winters, it's been pretty lovely here: a 75-degree summer and now a brisk but sunny fall. Still feels pretty cold to me, as it doesn't usually get to 11 degrees in Portland ever, let alone in November. I'm crossing my fingers as I'm moving the equines to their permanent home at the new farm on December 18, and I don’t want any snow or ice on the perilous-enough-already county roads for that adventure.

Our new neighbors the Beyrers (you can learn more about them by visiting my other entries on this blog) have a son named Tryston, and he’s going to be feeding the horses from January – May on the days I can’t be there. As you can imagine, I’m thrilled about this development. Jay and I will be living out there during winter break to help get the horses adjusted.

I’ve been fortunate enough to pick up a few training clients at my current stables, and may continue on there once my horses are Wisconsin residents. I’m working with a three-year-old colt with tons of potential and a great work ethic and a nine-year-old gelding with some major issues – mainly based in defensiveness and disrespect. The woman with the colt wants to bring him out to the farm next summer for more intensive work, which would be a good challenge.

Most of our family and extended family was present for a giant work weekend at the farm on November 5 – 7, and a buttload of work got done. The blog has details and photos, but I have to tell you that with the help of the Cedarleaf gang and a few other lovable hangers-on we achieved greatness together.

We’re all still excited, but also weary and kind of worn down these days with so much work and travel. I suppose I’ve reached the phase where I have questions, and a few fears popping up every once in a while, some of them reasonable: What if one of us ends up hating this life? What if we have trouble finding jobs? How will Jay find a way to make music with others? How will we continue to forge community, with those directly around us (Minneapolis, Colfax) and with those already in our community who live far away (Portland, Corvallis, Scio, Independence, L.A./Oakland, N.Y., Seattle area, El Salvador)? How will we fit in with the farmers in our neighborhood? How do we collectively feel about hunting on our land (I’ll be blogging on this soon)? What if we run out of money? And some of them unreasonable: What if someone gets a brain tumor? What if nobody ever comes to visit? What if something evil resides in the cornfield? What if a raccoon eats Flannery?

I’m not a city girl, not yet a farm woman. How do I make it through the next 6 months, battling this restlessness? I know that sounds high drama, but you know me.

I’ve never been a person who has cared much for surprises, and this dream/adventure feeds that particular discomfort. I also hate leaving projects unfinished, and believe me when I tell you that this farm is one big unfinished project. This is good, because it means that I’m being forced to grow and stretch in new ways, but it’s also scary.

My biggest challenge, besides missing my peeps on the West Coast, has been to honestly live in the moment, enjoying this in-between stage for what it is and not just as some kind of purgatory or path to another destination. The people who ease that challenge are my darling husband and my two trusty housemates, along with other friends and family here. It has been an incredible relief to realize that the four of us can make this WORK. We are well suited to each other and still have lots of fun together on a regular basis, even with pressing logistical issues presenting hurdles day to day - we’re remodeling an entire farm, for the love of the lord! I am honored to be a part of a tradition that began with my parents, and am grateful for my earlier experiences with co-habitation and communal living: Jay’s and my time at Jaxonia and later with DWarren at our place on 55th. I believe these experiences, having been successful in their own special ways, opened the door to the possibilities for us. We knew it COULD work thanks to our time spent learning and reveling in community.

My work at Hopkins West Junior High has been a mix, but generally consists of fluorescent office malaise. People here in the Special Ed office are extremely nice and clearly overworked, and that’s heartbreaking. It also makes my job a bit of a struggle, as often nobody has the time to teach me much and the atmosphere mainly consists of wait … wait … wait … wait … wait … wait … EMERGENCY!!!!! … wait … wait … wait… you get my drift. The kids who come in to the office on a regular basis are simultaneously hilarious and sad, and are the most stimulating part of my day without fail. Mainly I get a glimpse of the high-functioning autistic kids who come in to do odd jobs around the office as a part of their schedules. Gabe sings symphonies to himself as he walks down the hall, touching each locker. Kyle loves it when catastrophe strikes: “THERE’S A BEE IN THE ROOM! A BEE!” or “IT SMELLS LIKE THE HEATER BLEW UP IN ROOM 100!” The atmosphere is often grim (no money, no time) sometimes joyful (food and snacks 24-7 with a big birthday treat emphasis) and many days chaotic. I feel depressed about “the system.” It’s like many of my temp jobs in that it has opened my eyes to the way a particular place operates (well, at least the microcosm I’m a part of). As a side note, I must say it has been interesting to actually see what a staff lounge looks like (wasn't that always THE most mysterious place when you were a kid in school?)

We were out at the farm over the weekend – Jay and I put up lots of fence that was either broken or non-existent. Now that we have two separate viable spaces for the horses to be, we can manage the pastures come spring. By the way, Bex, Chris, Kevin, Allison and Jay are honest-to-goodness rednecks now, having bucked 150 bales of hay off a trailer and into the barn. We also set up the box stalls, cutting out a piece of wall and fixing other small issues. Next time around I’ll gravel and mat, and I’m getting estimates today on what it will take to get my indoor arena graded. The farm is going to feel like the Ritz after the horses’ current situation! Saturday day was all about manual labor, and Saturday night was all about Hearts and chilly vodka shots and fresh orange slices for the loser. And the winner. Oh, and Jay, Chris and Kevin chasing some hapless cows around and hooting hysterically in the black of the moonless night at the neighboring farm.

One of the best parts of the weekend was the welcome addition of the woodstove: SO VERY COZY AND TOASTY. The gutters are installed too! Even without much legitimate furniture, the house is starting to feel like a place where a person could really spend some time. I have to also add that Chris’ friend Eric wants to make an observatory out of our silo. I’m personally leaning toward a Rapunzel turret. I’m starting the hair growth effort now.

This is all to say that even with windburnt eyes from mending fences in the chill and the abundant hay rash all over my hands, the farm makes me feel like a kid again – gleeful and a little wild-eyed.

Love and giant farm breakfasts with bacon to all of you dear people, especially if you’ve slogged through this thing to the end. It seems only fitting that I post this right around Thanksgiving time, because I’m ever so grateful for the role my friends and family each have had in my life, and for their support in the form of love messages of all kinds. I’ve been a HORRIBLE correspondent to many. My cell phone only seems to work at the top of a treeless hill, and half the time we’re at the farm, which enjoys no signal of any kind, rendering our new fangled technology USELESS. I don’t call people back. I’m living in a bit of a whacked-out fog. Mea culpa, mea culpa. Know that all are still loved like never before. We do have a land line just now set up at the farm: 715 658-1581. We’re there many weekends, but often outside, and there’s no voicemail yet. It will get better – I promise. Right now we’re trying to add photos and commentary to this here blog to keep up with the rapid pace of change in our lives. Good luck to us!

-Charis