All will be well

January 7

I sat down here to write one thing, but I think I’ll write another. Because if I’m boring myself, how must you feel, dear patient readers? Let’s not be bored.

I won’t write about things past, or the cold, or the current worries.


Today I worked, and that’s a wonderful feeling. I had a list of things my client wanted me to do and I sat down and did them and then had a phone meeting where my client and I laughed about some confusing things in the project. And no one was mean. And no one was snarky. And it was all in the name of pleasantly working on a project together.

Today I took hot water mixed with molasses out to the goats and they welcomed me with their very sparkly, inquisitive eyes, and sniffed my pants and nibbled on my jacket’s zipper pull. As usual, they tried to race into the upper part of barn before I could shut them out, but Westie (shy, picked upon Westie) is very fast and very smart and got in there before I could shoo her. So how do I punish her? By letting her stay in, of course, along with her own bucket of hay and her private bucket of molasses “tea.” Because you have to give her credit. That girl knows what she wants.

Today I skipped breakfast because I was in a hurry to get to work, but I made a big mug of English Breakfast tea. And later, when I got hungry, I stood by the open refrigerator and ate the last wedge of kishke that we’d heated up on the weekend.

Today I finished the work that needed doing, and then drove to my favorite flower shop and asked Morgan, the owner, to make me a bouquet that would make me smile. She went around the shop, picking blooms that pleased her, while I stood still by the center table, overflowing with flowers, the air warm and summer-scented.

Today I thought about my mother, and how this day, six years ago, she left us. And I smiled more than I thought I would. I wouldn’t say I was exactly happy, but I felt peaceful. I felt her near me, and I felt her appreciating the flowers. I imagined her easy smile and her infectious laugh and the mischievous spark in her eyes.

Today I didn’t worry about one thing, though the list of potential worries is long. What happened before has happened and can’t be changed. What happens tomorrow is anyone’s guess.

I cannot maintain this zen feeling, but I can enjoy it while it lasts, while the last trace of sunlight slips over the western hills, while the waxing crescent of the moon rides behind wispy clouds, while H hums to herself while she does her French homework, while the dog rests his chin on his paws in front of the fire, while M places the takeout Chinese food order, while my heart beats.

I shall say this only once

I’m kinda looking forward to fall this year.

I know!

Who has taken over this blog, and what have they done with Rebecca?!

I don’t completely get it either, but I’m going to ride with this strange-but-nice feeling: not dreading the change of season, welcoming the cool breeze at night that suggests I tug the comforter a bit closer to my ears, anticipating the fall bounty, not whining (too much) as summer heads south.

In particular, I’m enjoying the oblique angle of the light, skipping over treetops to light the fields, the rocks, the flowers, the river.

I’m thinking a lot about apples. Cider, sauce, adorable little hand pies.

Oh, and chili and stews and mahogany-colored baked beans. Loaves of freshly baked bread.

Birthdays, holidays, and celebrations.

The fair.

A wide, dark sky, the milky way painted in a prominent arc.

Fall usually seems to me a closing door, the end of things, and shutting in until spring.

For some reason, though, I feel slightly hopeful about this fall. I feel the new, clean air like a bright edge of promise, a hard, clear dividing line between what was behind and what is ahead. It makes sense that the Jewish New Year is nearly here. A clean start, a shrugging off the lazy days of summer, a time to move inside, gather thoughts, gather friends, make feasts.

I don’t know how long this feeling will last. You can be sure of reading my moans and groans about winter come November. I’m not that utterly changed.

Ask me tomorrow, and I may deny everything.

Baked beans

Apple pie cookies










And Blue

First field


Do you see what I see?

It’s the last day of March.


The snow has really started to melt recently. The entire driveway is snow and ice free. The goat pen gate swings freely in both directions. The septic tank advertises its location by revealing a perfectly shaped, snow-free rectangle in the middle of the lawn. The sun is up when I go to milk in the morning, and it’s still up after dinner at night.


Of course, a nor’easter is winging its way here as I type, and snow will start to fall this afternoon or evening, and some reports say we’re due to get 9 – 18 inches of that heavy, wet, tree-limb and power-line downing snow by tomorrow night. Some April Fool.

No matter. I have proof there’s reason for hope.