Art show! Flood! Favourite artist in concert! It has been a month. The snow is nearly gone from nearly all parts of the yard near to the house! Everything is soggy! Most of my newly planted plants died during the winter!(?) I am devastated and expressing like an oldtimey cartoon character! We’re six weeks out from the last frost date, but I’m claiming we’re four. Rather, I’ve got a death wish for my seedlings/lots of row covers and a can-do attitude/willful blindness.
I think the only solution is to move to a place that isn’t here? But autumn! And those three winter days when an evening ice storm leaves everything crystal coated and glistening in the morning sun …
Clematis Update:
I pitched my raised bed revolution/cold frame dream tonight. If I can set it in motion, my griping will reduce by a predicted 2/3rds. Significant!
The second serious April snowstorm will start tonight and trail on for three more days. I guess that’s what I get for blaming March for all my problems.
Embarking on a solo Saturday, I reminded Mauly that I would not be needing my foraging basket as we’d only be running her for a bit since the sleet was a less than enjoyable companion. What a fool I was. Picture me bumbling home infomercial-fail style trying to keep all this in tow. Did I over-dry them? Yes. But they can still become books!
I have a show coming up that I’ve been ignoring. I had a custom order to deliver today and so yesterday, before I could convince myself to work on it, I did laundry and dishes and then baked a pie and also a ham of course. Part annoyed, part impressed. Mostly just why am I like this.
Can we just take another moment with the April playlist? Hot damn.
March has lasted for seven years. I am ready to move on. Actually, I have moved on, but I wake up every day and it’s still here. Pretty rude.
I bought a sack of clematis roots from a big box store and then panicked, washed and planted them when I opened the bag to find each one covered in mould. I’ve been googling tips for pretending they’re indoor plants, hoping I haven’t doomed them by potting up so early. The Internet says it depends on what type of clematis they are, and so far here is what we know: the front label said “assorted” and had various purple and white blooms pictured while inside the sac the mouldiest one was in a pot with a tag that said “yellow” and the rest were just fuzzy roots in a pile of dirt. Well look at them now, bigboxstore. I should have just returned the bag.
In some ways I’m doing better than I ever have before. The rest is the same. Completely necessary unnecessary struggle.
My work hours/expectations are about to shift dramatically and I’m going to lose my weekends off. I hosted my last Crafternoon here yesterday and it was bittersweet.
There is so much hard work between now and when the things I want to flourish will be doing just that. I keep putting off certain aspects of prep and planning because diving into so many unknowns feels like a useless waste of time, yet without the faulty preparation, more things would be missed creating more of a mess. Cue slurry of Why Am I Like This memes.
When I was a tiny baby human, before podcasting technologies were particularly accessible (just record it on the digicart!), I tried many times to host an excellent radio show at our campus community station. Just outta high school with a friend to share our favourite jams, during university with a gaggle of hip ladies for feminist analysis (Ovaryacting), with a couple others, then with just myself while I worked at the station. I revived a previously hosted premise (up your fem-con) and turned it into a 30min spot with new episodes put together a few times a week. During those years I hoarded and devoured music. When I needed to process something heavy, I did so by developing a playlist. It was the best coping mechanism I had at the time. Catch ’em with a hook, raise the bar, slow it down, keep the vibe (the rules can be debated). Eventually I got downsized (well, I guess we tried to unionize the station, so…), moved on, got a job where pop music was always blaring, then my hard drive corrupted/I lost all my tunes/was low on funds and due to all this, I think I unintentionally quit music. Defeated and without access to the truly vast campus music library and maybe still on dial up (or was that when we had a data cap?) I let go of that vital part of my life. At some point I shared a hipster record collection with a failed poet and then regaled the glory days with a stalled academic, but those were my only two attempts to revive the love for what had sustained me.
Welcome to 10 years later: my spouse has gifted me with a premium streaming membership. I’ve got unfettered access to the past; a flooding back, evoking every emotion from when I used those melodies to survive. And. AND! Gentle/not-so-gentle recommendations for what else I might like, or, suggestions for what may also get you through the devastation that was/is your life. It’s old, it’s new! It’s opens up a door that time travels you on randomto places and feelings you had forgotten if the playlist you made just isn’t long enough.
In attempt to control it all, to be intentional while connecting to those new tunes, to revel in the past annnnd perhaps to kick start a surge forward, I’m going to create and link to a monthly playlist for the rest of the year. I’ve already edited them into Jan/Feb based on my heavy listens. Here’s March. It gets the job done.
Even more medical wackiness this week. Vital appliance breakdowns and decorating upgrades in the house. New books made and a doubling of numbers for the monthly Stitch & Bitch hosted here. Another giant Sunday snowstorm (crossing my fingers we don’t lose power overnight).
I’ve been reading and researching a lot. Joined a PTSD and Chronic Pain group. Attempting to process. Shifted into a rare mode since Thursday, less reactive. I’m grateful for the difference in perspective. Started watercolour painting. Stopped watercolour painting. Think I’ll stick to planting seeds.
Fresh Cut Feelings 
