Too Much, Too Much, Too Muching

Tetrapak Prints and Wounded Creatures

Tulips. tulips!

After this, I shower.

Already overwhelmed by this month’s too-muching month, I am trying to tie up loose ends, pack, write (a) newsletter (s), and leave on little sleep.

I hear a sound from Pearl that sounds like an animal attack.

We believe what we want to believe more often than not. Who are the listeners anymore, who can form their own opinions? Can any of us?

I run out to the overturned canoe where Pearl barks frantically. A bird! I hear a bird. That’s it! Pearl is saving a trapped bird. A heavy bird. I flip the canoe and find - not a bird - but a groundhog with a small patch of fur missing.

I grab Pearl and put her in the garden so we can both calm down. As we are on our way, I see her feet are caked with grass, mud, and blood. In the garden she re-ignites. The groundhog climbs crookedly out of the rocking canoe and I wonder, is my Pearly perfect?

After a bit I look at her face and her mouth is dripping with blood. Red blood. Blood like ours, blood like the bluebird baby’s blood, and blood like the groundhog’s blood. I always expect the blood to be different — the sameness is harrowing.

I am shaking.

It is Thursday morning — chilly, filled with birdsong, blacks and whites, gray, green, and now red. We will be at the Field and Supply market in Kingston New York this weekend. By this afternoon I will have finished all that I can finish — and will be on my way with Pearl to pick up boys. Walter is nearly on his separate way with a car full of Peg and Awl treasures.

Rain persists.

Today will be brief as that is the kind of day today is.

Today is also Day 95 of #the100dayproject and Day 4 of #tinytetrapakprints challenge

Inside of Nowhere

The poem(ish) of the week was brought to you by five hosts from around the world kitchengravurebylea @sudden.strangeness @mosokje @marinahenina

Sometimes a Ghost

and me, @beingmargauxkent and contain the following prompts:

Inside of nowhere
Handstands
I’m the cat who walks by herself
Secret Sorrow
They sailed away
Whistling swans
Bits of string

Also in French, as translated by co-host Léa Marchet

Au milieu de nulle part
Faire l’equilibre (Léa says there is no french word for handstand! Wild!)
Je suis le chat qui se proméne
Chagrin Secret
Ils ont pris le large
Les cygnes siffleurs
Bouts de ficelle

I will share the work of others’ when May has come to an end.

Inside of Nowhere: Tiny Tetra Pak Prints

Everywhere Astonishments*: I am enjoying Tim Spector’s The Food for Life Cookbook and am eating last night’s leftovers with chopsticks to slow myself down. I used gf lentil penne, added toasted walnuts, a lot more lemon, and I piled the cilantro high.

Tim Spector Cookbook

In the Peg and Awl newsletter I share good things from the week! Just bringing this over here maybe once, maybe forever.