I Heard A Hawk Today:

What the world's quieting revealed to me.

Everyday I write and draw on paper. I am still trying to figure out where else to put the accumulations. Substack is still a thing to remember. Perhaps it will become more familiar in time.

For now, a gathering of days.

“I trusted its unknowing...”
–Ada Limón in conversation with Krista Tippett

I love the excitement of a new beginning – of whittling down endless possibilities and choosing one project to embark on for one hundred days. I love knowing that not every day will produce a masterpiece, but by the end, the collection of days will add up to more than where I began. I know that I will be transported, that I will slip out of a comfort zone, and that I will know more about a subject that I am curious about than I did at the start.

One year I set out to learn more about plants by drawing the variety that grew within a mile or two of my home. Another year, I drew one character and explored the treasures and world around her. For the last two years, I’ve been enjoying the smudgy otherness of my left hand. This somehow has given me a new confidence, as if that hand is not me, but a being I am nurturing – a not-myself. This I shall try to move forward with, no matter which hand is taking the reins.

This year, though I am still undecided, but leaning toward a new medium.

February 22, 2020

A conversation’s end:
Søren: “But I am already working on 100 projects!”⁠
Silas, “How about 100 Days of 100 Projects?!”⁠
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And so, the seed was sown. I went to bed with one idea, and by the next morning, had an altogether different one:
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100 Days of Finishing! ⁠
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I have a multitude of projects in the works and I was about to begin a new one that I knew nothing about. I am a starter. Which is a good thing – until all I do is start. So I shall use these next 100 days to work on endings. ⁠

My first project is one that I am thrilled to revisit. It is a culmination of my documenting our Adventures of Pandemic Camping. Together, we were four families with 7 boys and we went camping every month — regardless of the weather — in what began as a masked birthday camping adventure. ⁠
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I've journaled, left-handed, and gathered specimens, now I just have to go back through and retell the stories…

Gathering

But first, a title.
So, day no. 2 is looking through old journals in search of a title.

SEPTEMBER 30, 2020

⁠I Heard a Hawk Today.⁠

And that may not feel very exciting, but it was. Here at the 5 Acre Wood, there is a steady sound of so many things, and where someone else may hear distinct birds and insects, I hear morning, afternoon, and night. Prior to yesterday, most of the sounds joined forces, like an orchestra playing a single magnificent sound to my untrained ear. Silas runs outside time and time again yelling ‘Hawk!’ because he fears one will swoop down and lift one of our babies into the sky. We’ve lost a lot of chickens and one Guinea the Pooh to foxes, and too, a lot of chickens we haven’t seen foxes take.

He is probably right. Silas has always heard the Hawks. ⁠
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Two days ago, I was in the kitchen when our Guineas began to spatter noisy expletives which often have us running, but generally result in me seeing nothing—when I heard the Hawk. I ran outside and there, three or four feet above the ground, in the small grove of short trees where the Guineas play, was the Hawk—I saw it because I heard it! The two males, whom we refer to as Big Lav(ender) and Little Lav(ender) were barking away whilst the ladies, The Black Spot and Rocket, took their noisy refuge amongst the tall and invasive Chinese Stiltgrass.⁠⠀
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“Go on, git!” I yelled. And the Hawk—who could tolerate the Guineas much louder barks—took off straight away at the sound of my protective fury. ⁠⠀
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If I make a list of the small gifts that have come out of the pandemic, hearing a Hawk will be at the top.