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I haven't been wanting to write much, mostly because no time and my mind
is on other things, most of which revolve around working in a vegetarian
cafe overlooking otter cove at doe bay nature retreat. there's a family of
five [otters] here that i talk to sometimes. we understand each other but
it would be impossible for me to translate for you. i sat
at contemplation point trying to quiet my busy mind but no matter
how hard i tried i couldn't take a single breath without thoughts
crowding into it. i'm going to give it time, try to establish some
practices. a lot of surprises since i've been here.
it's weird--i'm here
because i sent an email to john berry--who has lived on orcas island
on and off for years--asking if he knew an organic farm i could get
into a live/work deal with. that's when he told me he was working at
doe bay and suggested i put in a resume. now i'm here, learning tangentially
though quite directly about the local food movement (LFM) because
99% of the produce we use comes from orcas island organic farms. i've been
meeting farmers and touring farms. (i recently learned my paternal grandfather
was a farmer--maybe it's in the blood.) colleagues katie and andrea live
and work at george's orcas farm, where tonight there was a birthday
celebration for katie, a summer solstice juneteenth coincidence. even
in the country, hip-hop rules the dance floor and we kicked a huge
beach ball that set a chandelier to swinging. still, i missed sarah
and my friends in fremont, where i heard the solstice parade and chuck
yeager show at the tractor tavern
blazed. oh well,
this too shall pass is what i tell myself when
i lean towards the morose and lament all the things i'm going to miss. it
helps. so does sitting in the sun, which has been asserting itself lately.
this is its season, as john quoted susan osborn on tonight's menu: "we're
in the bellybutton of summer." this has been a time of recalibration.
i'm liking it enough to where i think i'm going to stay here at least
until september. you should come visit. it's one of the quietest places i've
been. there are long stretches where try as i might i hear no intrusive
sounds--no cars, no leafblowers, no lawnmowers, no tractor trailer trucks,
jets or buses, no radios, sirens or alarms. just the lapping of water, birdsong,
and the sound of deer pulling grass with their teeth.