Tuesday, August 7, 2012

August 2012

August 2012 is the month I had a premonition about, when I was out for a walk on a cold clear day last November and craving new life, the kind of clear day I already miss, the air dry as long dead bones but crisp like newborn apples.

August 2012: I woke up to a crashed hard drive. Along with some videos and the start of a new piece, I lost months of work I'd done editing my book. Not corrections for grammar and spelling, but the part where you take your heap of words and breathe life into them and I'm grieving, going along just fine until some song or word catches me with cold hands and I start to cry.

That was the night I opened my bathroom door and found a hundred black flies, bred there overnight in my drains, and I went in to battle them, screaming like a Hitchcock blonde. Like a mean girl in a chick flick with her hair on fire, making my pioneer grandmothers proud.

But the people here are wonderful and there is music and light washed green through all the trees.

The daughters will start school, my husband will visit for 8 days total but not all at once, and I will continue forming my new life here, which is precious and wonderful, and hope that the moon is nothing but a pearl, something formed in a shell at the bottom of the sea until one day someone cracked it open and look how it shines.


  1. That is my worst nightmare - the crashed hard drive. I am so paranoid about that I email my novel to myself EVERYDAY. It looks lovely there, so green and mysterious.

  2. So beautiful -- all of this. And have you read the children's book "Grandfather Twilight?"

  3. Oh, ouch. I am crying with you. For so many reasons. Sending prayers and healing thoughts. I am so, so sorry.

  4. I'm so sorry about your computer. Are you certain it was the hard drive and not just the mother board or something? Sometimes files can still be recovered if it was just something like that.

    Anyway...wish you were here, but it looks lovely where you are and I'm sending my love!

  5. Wishing you exactly that kind of a moon, in every possible way that you need it. And please do write again, how overwhelmed you must be by that loss.

    Isn't it true how we crave something, like a change, then crave the old thing again?

    I cannot tell you how seeing your daughter's placid expression affects me, by the way, every photo I see. She may be your pearl moon in filtered green light. Hang on Momma. xo

  6. Oh, poo! And major suckage.

    Don't accept the death of your hard drive without a fight. My very own Hubs has been known to put the hard drive in the freezer for a few days and for some reason, that has worked some times. Get a geek involved (unless you're more of a geek than I am and then you've already tried the tricks).

    I send you love, and humidity. I know you have plenty, but I have more than enough. No dry bones here in the South, eh?

    Much love to you Mabey. Definitely, not maybe. ;-)

  7. " ..and look how it shines." Again that last sentence! I think I'll read that every day so I may smile. You need to start writing poetry hard time as you have too many pearls that need to shine!
    Love Dad


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