It's been raining, a lot. After moving to Oregon in 2002, we had mild winters. To a Minnesotan, 'mild' meant "late spring" and I remember when I first visited in March '01, my feet moved with the ground and dirt. I love Minnesota, and feel like the prarie is in my blood and heart and skin, but after so many years there, I was ready for my feet to feel soft ground year round. It seemed so...wise, to be able to feel the ground - and why did I wait so long. Perhaps the freezing winter temperatures and late springs kept me from growing too big a pair of wings too fast. Anway, when the ground gets really wet, and out here on the farm you are slipping in pastures, and horse hooves are wet and muddy and 3 dogs x 4 feet = 12 feet to clean 10x a day, I still think of that frozen ground feeling. It never gets me down, the soft ground.
We have a stream that runs down from the upper portion of our land and comes through the sheep pasture and then follows the gravel driveway down to the main gravel road and then on into the river. On a typical winter, it fills to the top and runs
until about June. By October if we've had ample rain, you can hear it no matter where you are on the 22 acres, and then you can hear the Yamhill River down below. I love that. I always love that, every morning, even if it is one second between thoughts of planning a day. And this morning, I thought, how can I paint that sound? I didn't even dwell on it, it just came to me, the words came into my head like a screen: "You already do"...That was one of those higher being things.
Eventually I'll post some pictures. But then again, who reads this but me? It is still so satisying to write a journal, or write something, rather than always thinking visually. Honestly, sometimes I want to turn it off. This is why the farm is so good for me. To use my hands all day and touch so many things-animals, dirt.
Martyn just drove up. I wasn't going to open the wine, but will. Rain+ fire+ wine+companion. Makes sense.