This too is October: moonlight and shadows, leaves on fire, spiders everywhere I go. The one that made me smile most: the wolf spider that crawled out from under the Halloween display at Lowe's while I walked through the store carrying a pumpkin and a sleeping nursing baby. Because yes, Flora and I went out, and even better, we went out with Glen. Helpful husband = happy Mama. I came home with houndstooth flannel, pink corduroys, yellow silk, and a giantly cowled and thus ribbed wool/angora blend, and cashmere--red cabled, gray, and moss green. And a pair of boots, but they were in Rachel's size, so she's going to wear them for me.
We are making a tribe of ourselves, I think. Days together, playing, eating, cleaning, nursing, reading. Her companionship is valuable. Ursula thinks so, too. Is Rachel coming back soon? Is Solomon sleeping? Mama, I want to go to Rachel's house and play with her toys. The careful lilt of her "l" in play, clothes, Flora nearly breaks my heart, as do her easy and ready I'm sorry and Thank you. She is on the threshold of girlhood, and she seems to have her mama's resistance to transitions. I would like this one to be easier for both of us.
One thing we all do seem to enjoy together is sewing (cutting, pinning, needling) woolies. I had imagined myself able to "set up shop" at this weekend's Sophronia Trading Post, but that might mean showing up with a sign, some cards, and a very few things to sell. Because, for example, here I am typing away instead of over there sewing away. How Wonder Woman mangages to refinish an entire dresser -- start to finish -- escapes me. Has she refined it all to an efficient science? Are her children wildly capable and self-managing? Has her devotion to creativity and gratitude helped her train them to be that way? I keep imagining so and then blaming myself for not being able to model the same devotion. Baby steps, right? Baby booties for baby steps. And to be honest, I want to outfit my own children first. And me. And our house. And our friends and relations and their houses too. Potholder, anyone?
Letting go of that compulsion allows more space for the other fun ahead: the SSSBWs arrive Friday, Melissa and the Folklife Festival Saturday (anyone need iron hooks, a Boyd bowl, a sharp little sawblade knife? Sorghum molasses from a mule-turned operation? Blackpot chicken, funnel cakes, fried apple pies? All handmade in the nearby Appalachians or on site by people who learned the craft from their people before them), another cider press gathering in Floyd. Insha'allah.
I love October, sunrise to moonlight.
I want to be this tree, to look at it so hard and love it so much that I disappear into it ... become the flame.