It’s been a bit
No excuses. No reasons. It just is. Coming out of the pandemic was hard and it’s only sort not actually over. Finding joy again meant turning inward and just letting It Be (I don’t like The Beatles but they were right).
Getting what fruit we may
Over the last year, I’ve spent a lot of time moving from Existing to Being. I have spent a lot of time in my garden and tending to my orchard. I have learned that the “payoff” of the restoration work we have been doing since 2019 was a very slow burn. One plum had to be culled and the other may not survive. But we got some fruit from both, just a literal handful from one, that was likely more than they should have produced. We were able to share with friends and the children if friends - the latter of which compare any new plum to those - which is exactly the ideals to which we want to work.
Had we known those would be the only we’d get, I don’t think we’d do anything differently. We are still tending to the remaining plum in what we assume is its twilight to see what will come. The one culled, the roots have respirated so we are giving that a chance and see what it may become as root stock are unlikely to be the same as the grafted scion. It’s a small adventure.
A clanging in your ears
The last “block” vanished in the last few weeks when the political landscape in the US went from bleak to vibrant and with it a sense of relief. We had no idea how much the angst from the last 8 years has been draining many things of color. The difference is very welcome. With it, I’ve been able to breath in ways I’ve not in a bit.
An example: art. Art had no place in my life the last few years and in my head was the constant clatter of loose change remnants collage and writing and photography bumping into each other and a deep worry that this was a new normal of poverty of creativity. I wanted a lot of things but couldn’t muster much actual do. When the block left, the coins started to rattle around and form new denominations. I noted that and poked at it bit by bit but otherwise let it compound.
Out in the orchard, there’s a particular sound the apples can make when there’s enough wind that they bump against each other. And when they are ripe, it’s usually followed by a snap and clatter as they fall to the ground. All of this has become louder this year (which is still pretty quiet but I’m working on a metaphor here) as the apple trees are producing very, very well. The Ruby Max is doing the best and has produced about 120 pounds so far and there is at least half again as much still on the tree.
The Bonnie’s Best looks to be close behind in ripening and in vigor. Ruby hit “good” pruning state at the end of last season. Bonnie will be there this year. So we expect next year to be… A Year with the trees hitting their more typical fruiting status. Which, if this year is what we should expect… oh dear. I am very glad I really like them apples. The clatter becomes a good sound.
Collecting the fallen
Teeeeechnicalllly speaking, the USDA would prefer we NOT collect the drops. There is a very slight chance bacteria can grow that do a botulism-adjacent thing if you eat too much. In reality, you’d need to eat A Lot of apples straight off the ground for that to be a real concern but we’re are still being cautious and cooking them primarily. There is apple sauce and dried rings abound around here.
I have been liking the variety of rings we’ve been making. Cumin has been my favorite but we made Five Spice this week I need yet to try. Little bits of creativity have been rewarding like they used to - more a sense of accomplishment outshining the preceding dread of “doing anything” that the Angst Block had built. That balance shifting is subtle but building in a way I can actually see.
What caught my attention to all of this was my reaction to the now-infamous Project 2025 agenda coming from the worst corners of white nationalist, right wing fanatics. A year ago, I’d have been unable to even hold the idea in my head that it exists let alone,one my Actual Response which was to turn it into art….
Collage meeting poetry equals erasure poetry. Both of these have, at one time, been my primary method of expression so picking them up and banging them together in the wind feels like a natural activity. So, I’m reading through the whoooooole thing slowly and turning it into something different. Maybe something positive.
Seeing trees for the forest As I get older, the benefits of longer horizons come into focus. I’ve been at my job for 20 years, working on the accessibility part for a full 10 of that. I have built up an entire army of people that spend some portion of most weeks addressing the accessibility of our products. There’s momentum carrying over into areas I don’t interact with regularly even - a recent publication (pdf) we made was as accessible as I think I’ve ever encountered. It was incredible.
And at home, of course, the orchard is alive. We got fruit from the elderberry grove too which we’ve been helping re-establish. The standard pear is similarly FLUSH with fruit and the Seckle produced but the animals (and scab) got all of them before we could. I ain’t even mad. The wildflower garden is as diverse as it has ever been….. the years of work, as little as it feels, is compounding and we are starting to feel it.
There’s still a billion things to do and probably way too much than the two of us will ever do but we keep trying. It feels less like a chore and much more of a choice. The work is still work and it’s kinda making me realize I need to start working on my health a more but it all has boundaries we can grasp. No more Giant Thing that just gets in the way but maybe more graspable fruit, a lot of graspable fruit, strew about the grounds.
Picking up
So, like, we continue to pick. We definitely could use more help and are still struggling to have other people in our lives consistently but we are facing these things with less exhaustion and resentment than a year ago. I’m feeling good about many of things things going on and at peace with those that aren’t going (nothing is ever perfect) and losing myself to a madness at it doesn’t seem like the right call any more.
From the deck with my coffee this Sunday morning, things are feeling pretty decent. Here’s 1200 words and a fruit-growing metaphor for your weekend. We’ll see if I keep anything up but I’m not stressing if I don’t. What’s here is here and I’m liking that it is here. You can follow along with the shenanigans:
HTTPS://poetry2025.org HTTPS://bruta11y.com HTTPS://blog.angrybunnyman.com
I really need a landing page for these things.
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