A chuisle mo chroi

The gaelic phrase in this post means "The pulse of my heart." It is pronounced quite bit differently than the spelling. You would say "a hushla mo cree." I love these words. 

Evenings spent with a sink full of dirty dishes, a needy sweater project and a happy puppy have come to be my greatest comforts. I have lived alone for six months now and I can barely remember a time when I didn't live this way. There is something completely enlightening about talking to yourself and gazing affectionately at your surroundings, knowing you built your little nest. 

I have often been called "too independent" and am hardly offended by the statement. I have worked very hard my whole life to need no one and be able to sleep and wake and work and clean all by myself. I am happy in the solitude. I constantly want to find more and more solitude. Like Mary Jane Butters of the Mary Jane's farm magazine  http://www.maryjanesfarm.org/ who once held a job as a ranger on some lonely mountain post. 

Today I worked an eight hour shift at the coffee shop where I am a manager in Colonial Williamsburg. This is the slow season which means deep cleaning and reorganizing and revamping menus... I then left the weary customer service job and continued on to the soggy horse farm where I keep my big beautiful Caledonia and also where I work several days a week. I loved every moment of soggy tramping, as I always do. I would spend every minute in the mud, if it paid me enough. 

At the end of this long day, I commit myself to one thing, finishing the sweater I have been knitting for over three months. Here is a photo!

Just for a moment this eve: be still...