Late night ramblings

Once upon a time,

Enough time has passed since I rambled on inane topics. Long enough to justify using "once upon a time".  It's not the middle of the night, yet. But it is late, hours later than my new bed time dictates.

I broke down and took a pain pill for my leg tonight. The climbing, hiking and the impressive scampering I have been doing lately is catching up to me. Since I didn't garden last year, I have ran out of pain salves. Those will have to wait to be replenished. Although with all the wild flowers here, ones with pain relieving properties, I won't have to wait too much longer to begin witching. Many of these flowers I have not used before, so not quite ready to ditch my western medicine. Luckily I don't hurt as often as earlier. The muscle in my leg is growing stronger, and though I may still not be running, I am able to skip.

I surprised myself, and skipped across the road. It begain as a stumble shuffle, and turned into a full fledged skip! I highly doubt you have ever seen an adult woman with a Cheshire Cat grin plastered on her face over a skip. My double braids more than likely added to the childish effect. My foot making such solid contact with the hard ground bore no pain. It was the first time in the last year and a half that I managed to boot slap concrete and not wince or cry out. Just this winter, unfrozen yet solid cow patties would make me cringe if I kicked at them. To skip and not merely  shuffle rapidly is a huge turning point in my physical therapy.   

I wondered off into the woods alone today. I wanted to see the damage the flooding might have done to our place. There are a few more trees toppled from the soft soil, and some of the dirt along the hills have washed away.  But all in all we seemed to have faired just fine. Our creek is still white watering, I don't know the local lingo for mini rapids yet, and haven't been able to check for the fish. The boys are eager to know their fate. I stood, listening to the hair washing waterfall, the sound had changed. 

More hollow. I assume the rock ledge had many of the pebbles that have been accumulating washed away. 

Husband quietly stood watch over me. I started when I spotted him from the corner of my eye. I don't know when he decided to follow me, nor how long he stood there as I watched the fall. I believe I actually blushed. Not from embarrassment, but from my school girl crush I still hold for him. This winter without him was difficult.  I never want to go through that again. However there is a chance that he will have to leave us to work. Yet I believe that when that time comes around again, we will be in a better place, emotionally, physically, and homestead wise. 

Work. . . It isn't so much making money that worries us. We of course need that at this point. The lack of stability has been our more stressful issue. It's the one thing we crave, desire, almost lust for. We have uprooted our lives, leaving behind family, friends, and a solid life. We sold almost everything we own, things it took years to gather, things we held precious, things we built. We jumped knowing life would be hard, while we landed in beauty, we tripped into chaos. And we all know how stable my knee is. Without steady work and income, I become frightened, Husband becomes anxious. We yearn for work with pay.  And with a couple of first and second interviews, that stability may be just around the corner. The shop, 2nd shift employment and the homestead. It's a lot on our shoulders. The burden isn't as great however, with the stability that comes with it.

Stability, it's the word of the day. 

We are a stuborn clan. We get ideas in our head and we push. I may whine, complain or gritch, but I still keep going. There has been many time in my life that I have figutivly and literally kept clearing the path, with tears and blood running down my face. Crying as the thorns punctured my palms, and still dragging the locust tree branches out of the way. Sorry, having flashbacks. 

Husband just stoked the fire, the house is rich in the smell of burning poplar. It's a comforting smell.