Gentle is not soft. Though soft attracts me. The softness of night sounds. The softness of a child’s arms. The softness of a belly.
Gentle can be as hard and strong and safe as an arm looped around a shoulder.
I had a small child perched on the arm of my chair yesterday evening. To lift him I have trained him to use my arm like a crane. He is to attach himself so my arm is across his chest and around his shoulder blade. I stretch out my arm and he positions my arm lower then throws both of his arms over my one arm and elbows himself up onto me. Then I fold my arm in with crane noises and lift him up onto my chair.
Climb on, I say. I’ve got you.
We both giggle.
He had a tissue from his great grandmothers box and perched on my chair he chatted unintelligibly tearing his tissue into pieces and placing the pieces into a small soggy pile on his head.
What are you doing with that trash, his mother said in horror.
Very important things, I said, never taking my sleepy eyes off the little birdy child who was paying no-one any attention, his bright eyes intent on tearing. Tearing it all up and remaking this moment into a precious game.
I wrote the following in the dead of night. The dead of night is a curious term. Last night.
……..
I cannot sleep again. Though my phone is quiet, my brain is not. So, I have gotten up to write. I listen to Boo toss and turn them click click tip toe across the floor and creep up onto my study couch where he is absolutely not meant to sleep.
It is so quiet tonight. Just a few crickets and the silent moon. I can hear his every breath and sigh. The dog. Or was that the moon.
It is just the moon and me and a dog.
I go out into the comfortable night and check the animals. Watch the hazy dark sky. With its perfect absence of secrets. There is a lot of light out here tonight. But it is diffused and wet after the rain. Wet light. The moon is waxing gibbous – getting brighter and lyrical. The moon has music but does not share. Almost full again.
The calves shuffle in their stall watching the night through the door left open. They eye me calmly. Their big beastie golden cow has left the farm and they feel restless without him. Maybe a little lonely but they cannot work out why. The hardest part for us is when the beasties roll off the farm in the Black Mariah. I say, thank you. For you and me. I thank the big beef cow. Thank you but I have a big family to feed.
The meat chickens are noisy – I know they are for meat and I prefer honest descriptions but I think I want to call them something different – the white chickens. That seems better. The white chickens are cheeping and chasing moths in their brooder. Cackling I think, as they race each other to catch the moths whose light they hang above to attract them. And the crickets hiding in their dark corners – they are not safe either.
I don’t want to think hard thoughts. Thinking of my own mortality. Your mortality. The next ten years.
I just want to walk a bit. Be quiet.
I walk past the pond on the way back to my study and a frog makes a little scream of fright as he leaps and belly flops into the water. Hmm. I think. I guess I was so quiet that I scared a frog. I feel insubstantial. Maybe we are all already ghosts and all this noise people make is for naught. All these rules and arguments and accusations and struggles are just so much noise and clatter.
Maybe we are like dead stars – our light still on its way, still shining in a corporeal blaze, though we are a million years gone. And none of it matters.
……… cmbwg
Did you see the changes we are making to TKG? Melanie is helping me. She is one of The Fellowship – quietly doing the blog housework. Giving us a cleaner more modern look.
When this is done and I have saved up some more money she and I will go back to The Sustainable Home site and begin to simplify that and fix a number of problems then turn all its bells on.
But not yet. I am still retreating. Clearing the decks for my writing and all the familial changes.
Still consolidating.
Have a lovely day. Yeah? See the good things. Those glimmers.
Celi
The Kitchen's Garden 
20 responses to “The Moon and Me”
I love to read this blog when you are in a contemplative mood, when your very simple words and ideas tell a story filled with meaning that we have all experienced. You are telling life and we can all relate, but of course I love all your stories because you are you and real. I felt a longing to be in a place that would allow me to walk outside by the light of the moon and quietly enter the animal world at night. So very different from the tossing and turning when sleep is elusive.
The blog is looking very streamlined and yes- modern. I usually don’t read on the full blog itself so it was nice to see the changes. Glad that one of the farmy fellowship has the skills to help create, fine-tune and move things along with the new site when the time is right.
Yes! I am so grateful for her. She walked back into my life at exactly the right moment AND is a NZ er plus lives the sustainable lifestyle. So very in tune to our simple life.
She has fixed a few things in the comments widget too which hopefully stops the lost comments problem.
It’s a Harvest Moon this Friday.
Jude is looking quite handsome in those pictures.
The blog changes look good!
Yes – the blog has been waiting for a wee tidy up. Just had to wrap my head around it. Harvest Moon!
I need to plant some things tomorrow, but it’s getting a bit late! The moon is looking great though!
Yes! I can’t wait!
It’s looking good tonight!
I always like walking in the light of the moon.
To me, your being able to surprise the frog is a compliment to the skill of your pussy-footed night moves… (Nothing in/unsubstantial about that!🤗)
Ethereal maybe. 😂
Definitely: )
I think I’m in a similar place to you atm. We are going through treatment for my husband’s cancer. The prognosis is good but not curable, and what lies ahead is still challenging and I wonder if any of it matters in the big scheme of things, so we just try to find some peace and joy in every day. I could sense the night air and peace as you describe it here…
It is hard but also quite wonderful to have the task of ushering a loved one forward. I call that living with cancer. A terrible but graceful stage. Good for you looking for peace and joy every day.
Kudos to Melanie. The site looks clean and easy to use.
I like your reference to dying stars. We always are seeing into the past.
Ok- nice reframe Jim. I like it.
I love a bright moon. Last night, I wandered down the back yard after dinner to close up the door of the chook house – they had put themselves quietly to bed, as always. I was surprised to see a strong black moon-shadow under their shade tarp, so bright was the moon. Bright enough to see the colour of my clothes, amazing. I stopped a minute to greet her and thank her for the light. It’s unusual for moonlight to be so brilliant without it actually being a full moon. No torch required 😊
There is something truly magical about walking in the light of the moon. Love your good wee chooks!
“Maybe we are all already ghosts and all this noise people make is for naught. All these rules and arguments and accusations and struggles are just so much noise and clatter.
Maybe we are like dead stars – our light still on its way, still shining in a corporeal blaze, though we are a million years gone. And none of it matters.”
Whoa!!! Such profound, powerful words! Makes me think of Ram Dass, an American spiritual leader, and his book “Be Here Now.”
Seeing the good things and embracing the glimmers, opening the heart and being grateful…, so important for living a joyful life.
Thank you for this beautiful post Celi!
You are so very welcome. Have a gorgeous day!
Oh, the 3 a.m. thoughts!
Lovely post.