|Saucon Valley Autumn|
Things have changed. Peter's position with a local university was cut due to grant cut-backs, and he's much more present in my life. I can't think of anyone I'd rather share my life with. However, I'm finding it difficult to adjust to the absolute lack of contemplative time...quiet time with no human distractions. Even the farm is fraught with activity; people come and go, ask questions, want to learn. Peter helps me milk now, and the delicate dance of woman and goats has become a tango, complete with dramatic shifts and turns. I still work every day, tutor twice a week, milk the goats, and attend a grad class on Wednesday nights. My personal time is limited. I try to find time for the people I love. I hope they'll understand.
It's season's end, here in frosty Pennsylvania. The last garden vegetables have been brought in, and all that remains are the hearty cole-crops and the indigenous herbs. The latter have been calling to me lately; the lemon balm and mint, the few remaining leaves of the transplanted passion-flower, and the rambunctious parsley. This morning, anticipating a difficult day (our goats showed signs of pink-eye last night, and today will be spent treating them), I woke in a back-wrenching, twitchy sweat at 4 AM. The usual remedies (a glass of milk, a chapter of a novel, relocation to the couch) did nothing. But I kept thinking of those herbs.