I was ruminating on the idea of home this morning. As the frost melted off the tips of the soft ears of my alpaca boys. As the world woke up around me. Ruminating. As I landed on names for my two new ewes. Phoenix & Aughra. As I savored my hot cup of coffee. In a home that’s new, that somehow also feels like forever.
Home. The idea of home. The look, the feel, the sensory experience of it. What it means. It seems like we’ve all reconsidered it in some way this year. Let go of a home. Found a home. Changed a home. Longed for home. Stayed at home. Isolate. Quarantine. Rebuild. Remodel. Move. Die. Sell. Buy.
Perhaps we’ve been hiding. Perhaps we’ve been caged. Perhaps we’ve loved every minute of it. Perhaps we’ve watched it all go up in flames. Perhaps all the containers that hold all of the memories are now pouring over and pouring out. Draining to the sea. To new humans. New stories. To memories not yet made. Memories we’ll be no part of making.
As all the other homes I’ve known vanish one by one, I am building up my own. She is made up of wide open spaces, frozen mornings, and baby steps. I have no idea what I’m doing. But I’m doing my best to just learn, and breathe, and do it anyway. One day at a time. One scrappy DIY project at a time. One new skill set at time. One free load of building materials, one kind & generous hand-me-down, one truckload, at a time. One day. One breath. One foot in front of the other. One. at a time. Forward momentum. Slow and steady.
The deep clean. The new start. The void. Who and where is home. What sayeth this strange liminal space. Perhaps this purge, this great unraveling, this quickly approaching conjunction of Saturn and Jupiter, this year we call 2020… perhaps it is the end. Perhaps it is the beginning. Perhaps it’s all the same.
As far as our collective home - the state of our health and those who work tirelessly to care for it – I am worried about the weeks and months to come. Too many people getting together. Too many people flirting with death. Too many people ignoring science. Too many sick friends. Too many dead Americans. Our collective home is about to get real messy.
I hope you are well, friends. I hope you stay well. I hope those who feel like home, to you, are well. I hope you feel safe and loved and held, by some semblance of home, even if it’s entirely unfamiliar. I hope you can move through this time. Quietly. Slowly. Patiently. One day at a time. This weirdness won’t be forever, but it will be for a while longer yet.
I send you my love. And as always, my gratitude.
Thank you for being here. Thank you for listening.
Say hello to Phoenix (always in the lead) and her twin sister Aughra.
These ladies are California Red Sheep, and the newest members of the family here at Chow Ranch.
ONLINE MASK SHOP NOW LIVE
Since the holidays are here, and 2020 is weird, I have a weird offering to add to your holiday shopping options. I have captured many photos over the years, and it seems like many of them might look really nice … on your FACE.
I have scoured my photo archives and created over 100 unique mask designs, available in a variety of sizes and styles. You get 20% off on orders of four or more, so these puppies make great holiday gifts too! So, whether you wish to adorn your glorious face with alpacas, hot peppers, wildflowers, twinkle lights, a giant tarantula, or any array of strange & whimsical in between… may I present to you…
There's still a few of these beauties left too. If you’re looking for a unique holiday gift, or a fun way to look towards the New Year (hallelujah!), please consider a calendar donation. For a minimum $30 donation, I’ll ship a custom 2021 “Where There Once Was Water” calendar right to your door. There’s only a handful of them left, and once they’re gone they’re gone, so if you want one (or two or three), grab em’ quick!
From left to right, Spock, Falcor, and Ludo, the intrepid alpaca boys of Chow Ranch.
From our home to yours, we send our love and snuggles, and hope for brighter days ahead.