I discovered an interesting thing about myself while I was away. Maybe I knew it along.
Have you ever worked in an old fashioned darkroom. With film, good old fashioned honest film. You expose your image with a light projector through the negative and onto the photo paper, then in your dark room you slide that blank paper into the developer, it is like water in a tray and gently you rock the developer tray up and down, up and down with the paper moving gently in the fluid until the image, like slow magic, begins to appear on the paper, it is distant and faded at first but soon it becomes clear and sharp. Soon you see exactly what you have and all the things you did not mean to have. Largely Un-edited. Complete.
Then you wash it through a tray full of water, working your way down your counter and then into another tray that holds the fixer. The fixer solution seals the image to the paper. Then you wash your finished photograph in water again, and dry it. Then you look at it and think about it.
Sometimes my thoughts are like this. I have to rock them for a while in the solution – letting the image slowly form then move these thoughts through all the steps until they are crystal clear and allowed out into the light to dry. And be considered.
I learnt that I am no longer afraid of being alone. In fact after days of normal family life this last week, I found myself floundering sightly. Unable to find the words. Resorting to the kitchen for my expression.
I almost always say the wrong thing. After years and years of saying the first thing that came into my head, I find myself choosing my words more carefully now that I live in a foreign country. Then slowly my words sigh back into the silence. I listen more. Wait. Nod. Watch.
I find I have lost the ability to join conversations. After the long hours of silence that accompanies my days I find that I need to search for a word. They will trip off my fingers but not my tongue.
I have become solitary. Or at least my ability to be solitary is clear now. It is something I am good at.
I find it easier to talk to animals. Though I seldom use actual language. Or even English for that matter.
I think many old fashioned farmers are like this. We move our cows, calling them through the gates, we walk about the sheep feeling their cool noses and watching them walk, we watch the pigs leaning on the fences saying good piggy, good fat piggy.
Except when the biggest fat piggie breaks into the chook-house. You forgot to put the barrier thingy back up, miss c. Hmm. Did you eat all the eggs Sheila? I ask. Never, says Sheila. Big, fat, liar piggie.
See you can’t talk to people like that – especially with an accent. But I can do it all day long with the animals because they don’t care what my words are they only listen to my tone. When they hear the laughter tone in the words – that is what they feel – laughter.
There is an etiquette for talking to people. I missed that page.I was absent that day. My gaze is just a little too direct. My answers just a little too considered. My articulation a little too precise as I feel about with my tongue for the word that would make sense. My silences just a little too telling. I take what people say at face value. My sense of smell is so precise that I have trouble controlling the flare of my nostrils and that little lift of my chin as I follow a scent. My hands are too busy. There is no delete button for my mouth. So I am careful with it.
This is why I am better out here on the prairies. This is why farmers like us have hair that sticks up all over, nothing but chapstick on our lips, we tie up our pants with baling twine, and wear odd socks and slop about in boots.. not fancy cowboy boots but mucky gumboots. Farm life is judgement free. Cows don’t care.
I have discovered that I have come a long way from my High Street life. And I am realising that I may never be able to go back. One thing I know for sure.. I eat well. But quietly. Lucky Our John is the Silent One. Lucky for me that I have you. When we write we can make sure our words are what we mean.
Left to myself.. would I become a recluse?
Would you?
Have a lovely day. I will. I do.
your friend on the farmy,
celi
The Kitchen's Garden 
78 responses to “The lack of chatter in the box”
I agree entirely. I think that’s why when we return from visiting family in the highly populated north of England, I always feel quite drained. Don’t get me wrong, we enjoy our family time, but the strain of trying to slip back into our old life is very hard. So people might think that we’re strange for talking to our beasties, but do we care? Nah!
Enjoy your prairie conversations,
Christine
You sum up exactly how I feel sometimes. I work in IT – in a office all alone. I can go a few days and never talk to a person during the working hours. At home – my husband is a very talkative person – he carries the conversation – so again – I get to be quite. I probably talk more to George Burns, Gracie Allen and Peggy Pepper (the dogs) than I do to human beings. I nuzzle George’s ear and tell him my sorrows for the most part. He never tries to solve them, he just nuzzles me back and gives me big sighs. Sometimes – we don’t need solutions – we just need an ear.
enjoy your day! It is finely FALL in North Texas. Cool, Crisp and Sunny. First weekend for SUN in over a month.
Dear Celi, Thank you so much for today’s post and all the comments that followed. I have always spent a lot of time on my own and value that to garden, knit, read, listen to music, etc. It is very important to be able to live with ones self. Throughout life there seems to be a lot of pressure to be popular, social, part of a group, important in your work. I agree that with maturity there comes the ability to realize your own value in having your own lifestyle. It is comforting to find so many like minded people. I feel very fortunate to have a wonderful husband, daughter and cats who are all loving but independent. I do love the photo of your three dogs together in the field.
I too have experienced the influence of a quiet life. The past six months of living alone have taught and revealed much about myself. Peace. Simplicity. A deep happiness that abides amidst the troubles of life. I have been out in the noise and hustle and bustle. I am so blessed to have found my place. Or rather to be placed here by unexpected means.
It must be really great to be able to be completely happy with your own company. I like to have someone to talk to during the day and at night. I need someone around to stop me from doing the crazy things that I want to do, and also to support and help me do the crazy things thst turn out ok. Having said that I love talking to my animals..usually they respond better than a husband does..but unlike you I could never doneverything thst you do..this is what I admire most about you, your independence to get things done..but not to the detriment of your health
Sounds like you and I are a lot alike. Felt like I was reading about myself with this post. And it highlights how this week has gone for me. I’m always perplexed why others can’t just be plain and direct as well instead of muddling things with drama and double talk. It’s like being on a merry go round. And I tend to say the wrong thing. I’m working on taking a deep breath before I speak. 🙂
Ha ha – I’m a very good printer, but I hate the darkroom – give me Photoshop any day of the week!
There were some lovely pigs on a new Yotam Ottolenghi show in Corsica last night:
http://www.channel4.com/programmes/ottolenghis-mediterranean-island-feast/episode-guide
They might not let you watch it on the web from America, but it may show up on YouTube or be broadcast on American TV… I’m sure naughty Sheila would like to see it 😉
I like silence, I think it is a privilege to be able to spend hours without the need to talk. Just listening to our thoughts. But human company is a great thing too. The key is to find the balance 😉
Good morning to you too Silent C.
G
I think this is your best written post so I will forgive the absence of kitten photos.
This is lovely. I find as I get older that I recognize who I really am and I’m comfortable with it….clearly you are finding that place, too. I’m not a very quiet person so I have started taking yoga to still my brain a bit.
So glad you are back.
Much of what qualifies as conversation is muck. I think perhaps spending time in silence, or talking to the animals, is soul-nourishing. That’s a good thing. ox
Wow.
I am already something of a recluse, living in the middle of a small city – and I was born with a foot in my mouth.
I sometimes long for the peace of a prairie.
I love this Celi. I love that so many of the fellowship are so similar – I guess that is perhaps why we find the fellowship such a special place to be.
Thank you.
AHHH! How you spoke for me…I am a recluse… it fits me. I love the non-judgement of the animals and the signals and signs and the ‘voices’ of the earth and sky. I have a hard time with people and lots of energy…often times restless energy full of nothingness because everyone is so bored but craving all at the same time.
Terry gets lonely, not I. But I have you and my other blog friends so I have a way of communication. Terry needs men and he likes news (I sometimes think men gossip much more than women, they only call it news). I know just what you are saying and I Thank you for saying it for me!
Your Western Colorado Farm Friend
Linda
http://coloradofarmlife.wordpress.com
http://deltacountyhistoricalsociety.wordpress.com
Some people desperately need people. People being what they are, those who don’t are probably better off, especially if nature becomes the companion.
A+
My husband is an artist who goes upstairs to his room and paints every day of his life. I stay downstairs writing/reading. We are retired from teaching in the inner-city of Chicago where fights (gang warfare)were common. We even survived a year of riots.
Today when we are expected to attend family affairs, it is so stressful for us, particularly because we don’t have much in common with some of them. I can’t sleep the night after spending time with certain family members–not all–but some, who are of course there. I am unable to stop the tapes running in my head. Most people I think are extroverts and cannot understand people who would rather be alone.