The strange times surrounding Covid-19 have simmered down in Ohio, giving way to our New Normal, which is a lot like the Old Normal, but with masks and less personal bubble violations. Kyle’s work schedule is still chaotic, and will be until (unless?) people feel safe to fly again. All this time, though, we have just been going about our lives.
The danger of frost is over, so we put the vegetable plants in the ground last weekend. Everyone seems to be taking the transplanting well, and the remaining seedlings we had from a few months ago are adjusting well to having more space. While I’m certainly enjoying the gardening, I’m not going to pretend my mouth isn’t watering for all these fresh veggies. As the weather is warming up, I’m craving freshness, but we’re still slowly working through the cache of food we built to get through the stay-at-home orders.
The order is lifted, though, and has been replaced by a “please, please, please be careful” from our governor. Very slowly we have all started stretching our legs and seeing how the world around us has changed. We ate on the patio of our favorite restaurant, in the rain, in much too cold weather, but it was worth it to support them.
I also made it out to a craft store and loaded up on even more supplies. With all of the spring blossoms starting to fade, Kyle and I have decided to try our hand at resin art, using fresh or dried blooms to make various things. I’m excited to try placing in glitter and Swarovski crystals, but he makes a frown-face when I mention things that sparkle, so that’ll have to be done when he’s looking the other way or something.
I’ve also been tinkering with watercolor paints again. I’ve always loved working with that medium, even though I’m a terrible artist. There’s something so magnificent about pushing color around until you just feel like it’s right to stop, and then watching what beauty appears as the paint dries. I get a mixed feeling of being supernaturally talented at watercolors and being a complete dolt who couldn’t mess it up if I tried. Whatever the case is, I enjoy pushing the paint around, so I’ve picked up five (5!!!) new palette sets to play with.
Of course, I couldn’t have all of this downtime without my heart tugging me in the direction of writing. It’s been so long since I opened the manuscript for Uprooted (formerly Project Samhain) that I truly forgot most of what I wrote. It was fun to crack open the binder and read along as if for the first time. It helped me realize two things: I miss writing and this novel isn’t as bad as I thought it was. It’s definitely not beyond repair, anyway. So, rather than allow myself to become paralyzed by that blinking cursor again, I picked up an adorable burnt orange moleskine and will continue writing the rough draft of Uprooted there. I enjoy writing by hand, and the process itself causes me to slow down and consider what I’m writing. It’s certainly not a path for fast drafting, but I look forward to delving back into that world I created, and finishing out Daveigh’s story.
It has been nearly two weeks since I “came out of the broom closet.” I didn’t, but I see how it feels that way to some people, so I shrug and go with it. I am a witch. I have been a witch for a very long time. To be clear, I am NOT Wiccan. Wicca is a religion and I consider myself very agnostic, so I’m not really poking around the realm of gods, goddesses, guardians, spirits, or whatever else.
If I had to put a label on my flavor of witchcraft, it would be kitchen witchery, with a heavy green witch lean. Still, it feels weird to think of them all as separate things when they all blend together. Perhaps it’s more inclusive to say I am a cottage witch, but that feels a little on the nose. So, I’m a witch. Any further delineation is available upon request.
I’m very happy in life right now. I feel strongly that the changes we’ve put in place were the right move, at the right time. My heart is full and all is well.