My life is really schizophrenic. Today I received a call from someone I met at a farm festival, who was thinking of moving right here to Arbuckle. After the conversation, I started musing about my life "before" and my life now that I’m firmly ensconced here in the rurals.
Thursday I had a very focused day organizing the greenhouse in preparation for the next battery of seed starting. One of those things where you take everything outside only to decide how best to put it back inside…it felt like Accomplishment. A little Order exercised over the eternal Chaos that is Country Living. Then Friday I went to San Francisco. I had a voice lesson and did errands in an orderly fashion. I enjoyed some time in the food world of the North Beach and relished that there are still establishments where the entire staff speaks Italian. Then I returned to Arbuckle, and had to break up a rooster gang rape and sew (not kidding) a hen back together. Maybe another way of saying that is, one minute I’m singing a Handel aria, and the next minute it’s blood and guts and why didn’t I butcher the roosters two months ago?
But really, I’m glad of the schizophrenia. I am fortunate that life is a patois of shotgun blasts, beautiful singing, violins playing, cats yowling and tractors roaring. I think if life is composed of too much of any one thing, one loses sight of how unique and marvellous that thing is. It’s good to move around a bit, and remember that other people live vastly different lives, although living not so far distant. And I hope that other folks get to move to Arbuckle and enjoy the contrasts as well–I didn’t tell the lady about the night sky and how she’ll see things in the heavens after dark that are rare and beautiful in our clear, unlit skies. There should always be surprises and things to look forward to.
Now it’s time to quit typing and work to finalize a large seed order. And then find more new apps for my iPhone that came two days ago. The old alongside the new, keeping life…..yeah, schizophrenic.