Travelling back from Portland to Chicago I found myself in a melancholy mood. My voice packed away with my makeup. My city face dissolving back into relief. Dragging my bag like a heavy weary dog with leaden feet on a short leash. Bumping at my ankles – shambling along behind me. I loved standing in front of a crowd again, being entertaining, succeeding, hearing the applause and feeling those smiles and nods and the laughter. I realised how much I have missed that world. I loved the applause. Everyone needs applause.
I especially thrilled at walking through a sleepy Sunday morning Portland the sun shining, so much green it hurt my eyes, hearing people singing, walking dogs, eating street food. I love morning cities.
But I also longed to be back in my own safe other world back here on the farm where I belong.
Are we all two people? Changing the props and our costumes, adjusting the score. I realised that working with animals draws me in, into a solitary world of silence and smiles. Gentler smiles. Always listening and watching and smelling. Air expelled in small audible sighs of satisfaction. Completely unseen.
Hair and colours absolutely unnecessary in a world of animals. Just those smells and sounds. That constant checking for harm or alarm. With animals we walk gently. Softening any clipped movements into seamless gentle changes. We are careful not to jar or clash. When an animal slumbers we let her sleep. When a pig is running we slow down so they slow and do not do themselves harm. Keeping a clumsy cows environment safe and planned.
But this world of people is so noisy. So loud and colourful. The emotional jostling and and jimmying for the lead. Positioning and watching. This need to be seen and noted. To stand out. To speak to the right people and be animated and interesting and commanding of attention. The loud laughs these people have. The drop in the pit of your stomach when you realise that the Big Fish have no interest in you at all. That terrible cafeteria pause of where will you sit and at what table at dinner because you have no posse and wish you had a pig or dog with you to make you real again. Your slightly panicked feeling like a huge forehead pimple. Trying to quickly pick up your dropped poise but it is in pieces from the sheer noise of such a gathering. And no-one notices anyway. Yet the searching gaze that others have, like they have secrets. Some want to take a finger of yours and put it in their book of pockets, put a pick into your brain. Others as gentle and kind as spring. Patting your scared cat of a face back into place. 
I fly home passing over rivers and mountains watching the green bleed from the land until once more we fly into the sepia landscape of Illinois. Dormant under us. Does a farmer look up at my plane as I steadily roar overhead. On course.
As we fly I think of the things I have learned. That the people who run WordPress are young and alive and passionate about where they are and what they are doing. How they volunteer their time to come out and teach us at conferences like these. How they grabbed at my pages of typed out requests and questions about the new Post Page with glee. They love feed back. They want this to work. They encourage our success. They lean forward to every question and use kindness in their responses.
I think of The range of ages and the variety of people who attended. Some hand in hand. Some carrying bags and laptops. String bags. Canvas bags. Fancy laptop bags. Worn out handbags. Some watchful like me and some networking and darting about. Some beautifully dressed and others in worn cardigans and comfy jeans. Happy that you are there. The ordinary bloggers who are searching to do better.
How bloggers are forging a new kind of language and new kind of communication. How it is morphing. How much of our blogging now is truthful and real. Not for money or gain. But as the very true expression of the art we all carry in ourselves. How age and looks and weight and health and popularity are all adjusted to a level field in the blogging world. how ultimately many of us are just as happy alone in front of our keyboards.
I thought about the wonder many people felt when they heard about The Fellowship about how you guys support me and each other. How when I am out doing chores you sometimes even talk amongst yourselves until I come in for my coffee time with you. How we break every rule. And how we prove them. How we really are an unusual and quite incredible gathering of souls. How did we find each other. How lucky we are to have done so.
I think about my talk and wish I could do it again. Wished I could have done it again on that day.
And do to our daily Good Morning. For, now, it is morning again. Still dark outside but I am Back out on the prairies. It is Below Freezing. But my body clock is muddled again from the different time zones and my belly aches from unfamiliar (though incredibly good) food. The mix of relief and longing settling back through my digestive tract.
I watched the mountains pass and wondered about my own mountains and goals. The immediate one being to feed those baby goats and touch and check every single animal on our farm today. Coming home. Bringing you with me.
I met a lady on the plane whose daughter loves pigs so I showed her Timatanga Moana and with delight we began to make plans for her to bring her daughters to the farm for a visit. Isn’t that lovely. Even on the plane I found kindness and kindred spirits.
Soon I will get up and shiver my way into my farming clothes and begin again. This wonderful farming life I have.
I hope you all have a lovely day, thank you for coming along on yet another journey with me.
Love celi
The Kitchen's Garden 
81 responses to “Back to the Country”
Such a true capture of city life as well as the human condition. Just wonderful writing. Glad you are back home safely.
I understand so completely what you mean about being two people, I used to be Spanish Chica and City Slicka Tanya, now I am Up the Mountain and Down by the Sea Tanya – I love all of them, home is where the heart is. Beautiful post today miss c, very gentle and reflective.
Yes, we are all two (or more) people. You’ve captured and expressed it so beautifully today. I tried to retire from teaching and just enjoy life here at the beach (which is the heart of downtown Long Beach)…lasted about 6 months. I so missed the performance aspect of teaching, of drawing the students in, their reactions and questions, nodding and smiling, even occasional applause – and to witness the learning happening! Now I’m back to 2 courses per semester and feel like myself again, though I do appreciate the spring break which is now, and summers off. The teaching pays for my European travels and some little luxuries, so it’s all in balance.
Your talk was so good! I plan to watch it again when the digital version is available. I don’t think I had realized that you *really* did not know anything about farming when you began or how you manage to be so consistent a blogger, which is very rare.
Thanks for sharing your life with us.
Welcome home Celie and Congratulations! I was right, you had the audience in the lap of your hand. A day or two of the high life are enough, before returning to the comfort and familiarity of home. I bet the chorus was loud when the animals scented you were back amongst them. Easy for me to say…. try to take it slowly with plenty pf pants pauses today, until you body is back in sync with the sights, sounds and smells of the farm.
LIke you, I love this wonderful farming life I have. Glad you are home!
Linda
http://coloradofarmlife.wordpress.com
https://coloradofarmlife.wordpress.com/sherlock-boomer
Absolutely beautiful to read this morning, Celi. I do think that many of us feel we carry around two people–maybe we all do, but we don’t express the longings to address our dual personalities with the sense of wonder and awe that you have written here. I have no doubt but that there will be other special speaking invitations and the opportunity to nurture talents that aren’t fully expressed on the prairie, yet I think the prairie and farmy life fuels your creativity with a particularly unique spark. Welcome home, and enjoy some time to synthesize the variety of sights, sounds and experiences. We are all quite proud of you. ox
What a great post. It certainly resonated with me. I left rural, highland Scotland for the weekend in order to attend a national writers’ conference in Glasgow . You describe my feelings almost exactly. It was great to attend and be part of a wonderful, positive and inspiring gathering, but, yes, there were moments of shyness, vulnerability and self-doubt too. I was glad I went, but it was good to come home too.
And who DID you eat with? Do you have URLs to share from your new friends?
Not really, i was eating with the staff people and they seem to twitter rather than blog.. but there are two lovely ladies that run immense blogging empires, I will get those links for everyone.. really I was the little fish.
You are not a little fish to us, Dear Celi!
Linda
http://coloradofarmlife.wordpress.com
https://coloradofarmlife.wordpress.com/sherlock-boomer
Loved this post. Thank for sharing with us.
I am heartbroken that I missed it. I set my alarm so I wouldn’t but for some reason it didn’t go off. Is it available to hear it again? I love the way you describe the WordPress people, it gives me great confidence that it was their platform I selected over all the other blogging platforms. I am still in the process of considering to go to self hosted but I recently had to reinvest in a new computer and it’s broken the bank for a bit. I am so glad that your speech went well, I knew it would, you are charismatic, intelligent and lovely to listen to so I’m not at all surprised everyone loved you and applauded! I do hope you can direct me to a link so that I could listen to it.
when there is a link I shall let you know, they have another conference yet so after that maybe.. c
Glad you’re home safe. I think we adapt to wherever are, so that we’ (hopefully) retain our own comfort. Although it is good to be encouraged beyond our comfort levels sometimes. Aposite for me too as I’m in London for one night, for work. I lived and worked here more almost 20 years ago (eek!) and find the minute I step off the train and head for the tube, I’m in London mode again. But, I love getting back on the train, exhausted with the effort of it all, and then the bus home and a gentle walk back up to the house, with hills, and peace. Back to my place rright now. I love the way you make me think sometimes, and other times just being able to enjoy the descriptions of your day and the animals. And that cafeteria moment… I am still v shy, but am better at hiding it, but I know that feeling well.
It is you, it is you who brings this about. From the Fellowship to a stranger on a plane – it is you who shares the magic and spreads it around!
Superb post; I love Portland and Powells; surprised to see so many kiosk type setups; you are the best, and your blog posting was superb!
Words cannot convey how wonderful it was to witness you do your thing, that other part of you that you magically wove the Farmy, blogger part into, and succeed. It was, you were, sensational.
Your words today strike a cord, the balancing act between two aspects of self, in two places. Many people now assume I’m from the city, and I am comfortable here knowing the ropes and the right things to do and say -less is more. I walk the city streets self contained knowing one day I’ll step off my own stage, be gone, back only as a visitor, much as you express. As my country roots are true, surprising even myself when I step out as I do regularly, instinctively into the country ways of smiles, eye contact, waves, hellos, more time and space, slower pace.
Your post has made me very emotional. I’m sitting here weeping thinking about you. Oh how I wish I had been there with you. I would have grabbed you to sit down in that cafe .. No joy in dining alone. I too wonder if we are two people ..as I feel much like you. I love my farm and life here it is safe and so rewarding. Celi, you always have such wonderful things to say about people and you see so much with your eyes wide open. Thank you so much for your honesty and for sharing so much from within! Hugs