Tag Archives: Mussey Grade

QUAIL MUTTERINGS #18. Isolation… Connectedness… (October 28, 2012)

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QUAIL MUTTERINGS #18.  Isolation… Connectedness… (October 28, 2012)

 

I guess I had it all wrong. My thinking was that I had already gone through the empty nest syndrome after my youngest went off to college last year. But evidently there was more to come. Way more. My second daughter had moved out when she went to college, but then returned to live on our property bringing her fiancé with her. A wedding, a baby and a divorce followed over the next six years. I loved having my family around. It was the best of both worlds. You see, we could be together anytime we wanted while living in separate dwellings. But now, my daughter and four-year-old grandson have moved “down the hill” to be closer to the conveniences of city life – I guess. While it may seem like a good move on their part, it’s like torture to me.

In fact, to be honest, it feels downright wrong. There have been five generations of our family living here in the canyon and for better or worse this sense of family and community feels absolutely right. I know in this day and age our youngsters are expected to flex their wings and go out on their own. But in other cultures this is not the norm. It could be considered abandonment. In the old days extended families lived together with the elders helping to care for the youngsters while the parents went out to work. That whole scenario helped promote cohesion, love, trust and respect for the whole group, crossing generations. However, these days, if one of our grown children fails to launch it’s determined to be a negative thing. Either the parents didn’t do their job right or there’s something wrong with the young adult.

But I’m not really speaking of this scenario. I’m referring more to the matter of choice. The idea is that raising kids in a multi-generational family is a much more viable option than attempting to exist in a vacuum – with society’s whims extolling their pressures without there being a safety net to fall back on, for any one of the group. We all know that it takes a village to successfully raise our young. The goal is to help them reach a place where they can be successful in relationships, be able to provide for their own families… In essence, to be loving, caring and contributing members of our society.

Speaking of family groups, we’ve been seeing a group of deer in our area. Sometimes as many as seven, as a couple neighbors have told me. The buck has big, beautiful antlers and each individual appears overly tame. I’d like to see them a little less comfortable around us humans and our machinery, for their own good. After all, not all of us are of a trustworthy sort. Things are pretty dry these days and there’s probably a real shortage on their food supply, which brings them in closer to civilization. These deer are much darker colored, almost a seal-brown, instead of the light-tan I remember from my childhood.

Somehow, I’d like to see our families stick together more as a group – like those deer. Sharing food, cooperating with labor and recreating together can bring more genuine meaning to these activities. There’s just two of us left in the canyon these days, my husband and me. Gardening and growing goodies to share feels a bit empty without my offspring here to share it with. Yes, I know. I’m obsessing over what most people would consider, “No Big Deal.” But to me it feels like a huge loss.

When I lay in bed at night fighting insomnia, the hooting of the owls sends me a mixed message. I feel comforted and grateful to be living in this rural canyon surrounded by the wild sounds of the night. But they also bring a melancholy mood, reminding me of how lonely it can feel here at times. Nevertheless, I realize that I will adjust, eventually, and regroup my inner calm. I recognize that my ability to meditate and quiet my mind will probably return and grant with it a new perspective and appreciation for what is. It’s just that this period of adjustment is not very comfortable. I wasn’t prepared for it.

It’s like the surprise rain we got back in August. It poured while the lightening struck and the thunder roared. I sat out on the front porch yelling into the deluge, harmonizing with the rolls of thunder. It felt wonderful. That unexpected treat of restoring moisture to the earth also created ruinous ruts in the road and front yard. We’ll have to bring out shovels the next time it comes. Having these tools ready can come in handy when the unexpected happens. Such as when half your family moves away. My morning meditation is one such tool for my mind, helping to quiet myself enough to let the subtle awakenings emerge which allow me to be a better person. And to slow down my reactions and responses to more positively affect future outcomes. So, “Here’s to the owls,” who remind us how isolated, yet how connected we all are to everything around us.

 

Chi Varnado is the author of two books. Her memoir, A CANYON TRILOGY: Life Before, During and After the Cedar Fire and her children’s book, The Tale of Broken Tail are both available on www.amazon.com. Chi directs the Ramona Dance Centre. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, can be found on www.chivarnado.com.

QUAIL MUTTERINGS #2: Chorus of the Frogs – January 9, 2011 (One year ago)

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QUAIL MUTTERINGS #2:  Chorus of the Frogs – January 9, 2011

(One year ago)

          

          I lay here in bed at 3:30 AM listening to the beautiful chorus of frogs. My window is cracked open allowing the sounds of the symphony playing down at the creek to drift into my consciousness. Normally I’d probably miss out on this Overture de Croak, but I have a nasty head cold which is keeping me awake. I suppose I shouldn’t complain. It’s probably been close to a year since I’ve had one. Everyone around seems to have had several since I have so I guess it was my turn.

We’re so fortunate to have had such an abundance of rain recently, enough so the creek was running even in December. This was a local record since I’ve been around. We’ve had over sixteen-and-a-half inches of rain this fall, in just a couple of months. In fact, we had over ten inches in two weeks! The run-off has keptKentand me busy digging trenches to keep the dirt road from washing out. Aah, the pleasures of country living.

The road leading into our place is more than a half mile long. The first part of the street, nearest Mussey Grade, is better maintained. There are a couple folks with hearts of gold who enjoy playing on their tractors. As one progresses further into the canyon there are fewer of us and the bulk of the maintenance falls onto those willing to roll up our sleeves and do the work – by hand, with shovels. By the way, there are only a couple of us. And then, once in the canyon, there’s just us, with more real, unpaid work than we can handle already. We just have to pick and choose the jobs that are screaming the loudest or the ones that are threatening to ruin some project we’ve already sunk our blood, sweat and tears into.

On the occasion when outsiders come in to fix something for us, or simply to visit, one thing usually registers in their minds. And this is that they have somehow stumbled back into perhaps the 1930’s, a time when things took longer to accomplish, with a lot more planning and time investment necessary. Everything seems more difficult here. There are no paved roads and the dirt lane is narrow and canopied by old oak trees making deliveries with large trucks practically impossible. The landscape is steep and unyielding with rocks and boulders literally everywhere. Everything we do here requires a hike – not like walking onMt.Woodson’s paved road orIronMountain’s wide trail. This is more goat terrain.

Our washing machine is out on the side porch and the clothes line accessible only by a hike up the hill. The garden, where we pick our dinner, is up the mountain even farther. We turn our two horses loose during the day so they can forage for themselves while munching down the fire hazard. If they don’t come home by supper time we have to walk back into the canyon to fetch them. The goats and chickens, as well as the horses during the night, are a traipse over to our west side. Keeping enough firewood cut, split and collected is a time consuming and fitness insuring activity.

In other words, ours is not a life of convenience. Nor is it exactly ‘simple’ or ‘slower’. But these days we know that a simple life is usually more difficult and a slower pace probably entails more physical labor. Not always, but it’s funny – the choice of words in our language. It’s not to say that our lifestyle is not rewarding. It most definitely is.

The other night as I went to bed – with my window open a little, of course – I heard a porwil’s three-syllable call. It’s one of the most comforting sounds I know. A barn owl screeched a couple times in the distance. And yes, the chorus of frogs. Have you ever noticed how deafeningly loud and robust they can be and then instantly quiet? It’s almost as if they are all aware of a single music conductor waving his wand to play and then sharply cutting them off. And then luring them on again, one section of the orchestra at a time, building to a crescendo and then falling away again: all night long. What perseverance and passion. The ebb and flow of the symphony parallels our lives. If we slow down and listen, we might, perhaps, become more in tune with our own surroundings, our community, and the world that we live in. We’re each a single instrument – important in our own right. But together, as part of the orchestra, we can do wonderful things.

Until next time, may your life be full and blessed as you take the time to enjoy your walk or sit in the garden. Don’t miss the symphony!

Chi Varnado is a contributing writer for The San Diego Reader. Her memoir, A CANYON TRILOGY: Life Before, During and After the Cedar Fire, is available on www.amazon.com. The Tale of Broken Tail, her children’s book, should be coming out this spring and she is currently working on a novel set in her father’s Mississippi homeland. Chi directs The Dance Centre of Ramona. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, will appear on Ramonapatch.com every month or so. Please visit www.thedancecentreoframona.com & www.chivarnado.com.