August hits like a hard right hook
And you know September is just around the corner.
Image ID: a green-stained hand holding out a ripening string of red cherry tomatoes.
It happens every year and still, even after my now eighth season farming, the Summer Tireds are sitting on my feet, making me plod along.
The 12th episode of Letters to Georgia is still sitting half-edited on my laptop, waiting for me to have the energy to finish it proper (I am quite sensitive to sounds, and having to edit audio for up to 6 hours is… well, it’s terribly off putting). I am learning patience, and self-acceptance, reminding myself that this podcast is just a hobby, and I don’t owe it to anyone to get it out into the world in a resonable amount of time.
Just to be clear though- I WANT TO DO IT. It will be completed, just inefficiently. I don’t have the energy right now to let it become a chore, I desperately need it to stay a fun thing for me.
Image ID: the front end of a blue, floral-pattered paddleboard in the middle of a lake framed by mountains.
I am happy to say I will certainly (well, at least barring any catastrophic life events or injuries) be staying in this lovely corner of Montana for next season as well. I’ll have all winter to plan and wrap up projects. Currently Watchtower, my first solo TTRPG is some layout and format fancy-ification away from being published, Fireflies is still only half-way through the writing stage, and I still have lists and lists of short stories to write (one has been submitted however, and a second one should be ready by the end of the month! Wish me luck!).
Image ID: painting of a woman-headed tiger rampart in front of mountains and a sunset.
I have been carving out time most weekends for painting however, drawing from dreams half-remembered, furthering my exploration in jelly gouache.
Spoiler: I love it. So, so much.
Image ID: Painting of a three-face hare in purples and blues leaping across a glittery night sky.
Painting always brings a certain kind of peace with it, a stillness. I hope to make more structured time for it during the week as well.
I would also like to make time for more frequent, fun, proper blog posts. Where I can dive deep into an adventure or painting or story process. It’s more and more clear every month that social media is draining and boring, for me at least. And maybe its just the cooler weather, the threat of frost nipping our heels, but I miss the days of sitting down and reading through the archives of my favorite blogs.
There’s something missing from places like Instagram and Twitter- rules and limits can be a fun creative challenge, but when you are having to trim off pieces of yourself, pieces of your life to fit into a box all while ALSO catering to an algorithm for said pieces to be seen by anyone, it’s miserable. It’s shallow, it’s pomp and flounce and dullness.
It’s the regurgitated remains of the worst parts of modern minimalism. I want to read the lush paragraphs of artists and painters and regular, everyday folks. There’s a mindfulness component to it, I am sure. Siting down to write a few hundred words about your own life, no matter how dull it seems elevates the ordinary to the delightful.
Image ID: A black and white dog (Willa <3) stops to smell something on railroad tracks. There are cattails, willow trees, and poplar on either side.
But, alas, I can’t make any promises. Only that I’ll do my best and sometimes my best looks like a quail stuck in a chicken grain silo (real story, keep reading. I could’ve posted the photos in better order but can’t be assed to fix it now).
Image ID: Pocket shot of a farmer (myself) with a walkie-talkie and half eaten Japanese-type cucumber sticking out of there pants while in a trellised greenhouse full of more cucumbers- it’s floor to ceiling, literally
Until next time, hopefully sooner than later, Sabrina
I told you, quail stuck in a grain silo. I love these himbos so so much.
Image ID: photo taken inside a mostly empty, white grain silo, there is a lonely quail running in circles in the bottom.
Image ID: sunset over the Bitterroot mountains in a field of blooming Showy Milkweed. You can just make out two of the chicken coops over the field, and there is just one, love cloud.
PS Next week marks my one-year anniversary of making it to Montana! A full year of adventures and surviving and not rear-ending anyone who has a “straight pride” bumper sticker! Go me!
Image ID: close-up of a green grasshopper sitting in the middle of a pale calendula flower.
