crafting

Today marks two weeks since my last post, which has been feeling like a long time, though now that I'm finally doing the reflection it doesn't seem like that long at all. I'm blaming decades of guilt programming for that. Everyday I didn't write felt like some failed obligation until I could tune out the internalized nagging and return to the present. I caught myself doing that with Boost as well. Somebody from their corporate office left me a voicemail about my FCC complaint. I left him a voicemail in return and put a reminder on my own mental list to call again. Then I got a fast busy signal and reset the reminder. I felt anxious like I was neglecting some critical life support function before calling again. I looked up the tone and found it can indicate that the number's been blocked so I finally let it go. I thought I should consult a medium with all these ghosts I've encountered this year. I met a guy mid-January who has proved to be more corporeal than the others, and his haunting has been a welcome one. I think I've seen him at least once a week since then, and think about him a little more in the time in between. Last night we smoked and watched SpongeBob then I sent him home with a hunk of bread, which I've been churning out at a regular pace. I found a rhythm and haven't been without decent bread for weeks now. The unrisen loaves seem like a lifetime ago. I still haven't pitched the wort I brewed when I started baking, but the yeast I attempted to harvest have been perking up this week. I started them in small jars with a light wort and moved them to larger jars and fed them a few days ago. I've been shooting from the hip trying to keep them alive but I've been finding some mental clarity and direction in pursuit of that same rhythm.

I brought some foraged mushrooms home from a hike last month then buried them in some compost in a plastic bin. They began forming new mushrooms shortly after so I popped off the lid to take some pictures. I watered them heavily and spritzed them with water before covering them back up, but they shriveled up and died back soon after. I moved the bird feeder and mulched a pile of branches. Most of the chips wound up around the base of the feeder, and I think I'll move the tub of compost out there soon to give the mushrooms one last shot in case there's any life left in them.

The birds have been enjoying the new location. I moved the feeder to a more secluded spot away from the sparrows and stopped buying millet. I love the sparrows, but it was time for us to separate, or at least for me to stop encouraging them. The cardinals, finches, and chickadees have had more food to themselves, and I've had a better view from the windows and hammock. I read about a guy trying to slap away his grief that reminded me of The Ritual, a movie about a guy trying to shout away his grief. If grieving is allowed as much time as it needs, is it ever ethical to say suppression isn't working, that the change being grieved isn't really being grieved? I've been granted the freedom to play with fungus until the bread succeeded, and the hint of awareness that a more experienced baker might have pointed out all the ways I could have arrived there sooner. Who's really being helped in that case, and if I were unwilling to hear it would the advice have the opposite effect? Abiding the right of conscience can be so tricky that it's been helpful to hash this out with the sparrows first as practice.

I went out for a walk around Ft. Washington with the dogs the other day. I packed their extendo leashes, the tether, and a small picnic. We walked out and back about an hour each way with another hour in between to eat. The trees and the creek took up most of what was on my mind, and we washed the rest off in the bath when we got home.

I went to a birthday party this weekend, where we watched rainbow sticks turn the fire blue and green, and to church, where I spoke about my experience so far finding and visiting the fellowship. In all my Cult Your Own Adventure explorations I recently hacked together my own almanac day planner. It's still coming to life with the yeast, but it's been serving its purpose. It's primarily lunar, with a deliberate anticalary design, so really today marks my week end, which turned out to be the perfect time to reflect and write as the moon turns full.