We work 12 hours a week, and so far my work has
included erecting and moving scaffolding and helping to dig a hole for a new septic
tank (glam-or-ous). I feel hearty. The landscape, however, is precisely as I pictured: rows of corn surround the art farm in four square mile blocks. I’ve
taken to walk this four-mile loop mornings, before it gets too hot. I have a
good chunk of my work out of the way for the week, so now I am digging into the
writing.
I can’t say that I am uncomfortable, but it’s funny the
things that I notice here I was not prepared for. One of my boxes hasn’t yet
arrived, and it has my contacts and most of the food I shipped myself, and
because I am one of the residents without a car, I have to rely on the kindness
of others—and wise grocery shopping choices when I do go to town.
Survival aside, the social aspect is interesting. Everyone
is nice, and the unexpected comes daily. There were a group of walkers led by
“recovering politician” Ed Fallon, heading through yesterday. They are part of
The Great March for Climate Action, and their route will take them from Los
Angeles to Washington DC. They camped out on the grounds, all ages and shapes
and personalities, all dedicated. They were very interesting folks, some of
which gave up their jobs and even their homes to take this hike across the
states to stand up for what they believe in.
As for solitude, I have been finding it when I seek it out.
The Farm House, where I’m staying, does not have internet, so staying there is
a great place to work without much distraction. That said, I am staying on the
second floor where there is supposedly and likely a ghost. She may prove a
distraction.
I have been writing here and there. I wrote a piece about
Rattle as an old man, an old man who walks around a park and who is covered in
tattoos that tell, if not his life story, his life philosophy. He reconnects
with some of his children in this piece. I am trying to revisit WE ARRIVE UNINVITED
as well, since a few agents have been interested in it from reading the first
50 pages, then requesting the full have given me a "close but…"
Writing is hard work, and there is little, if no, instant
gratification. Likewise, restoring a 12,000 square foot family farm in rural
Nebraska forces a person to slow down. In this way, both my writing and this
residency demand that I stay in the moment and dedicate myself to the nature of
right now. After all, when disconnected for the every-micro-second filled
eWorld, one is reminded that nature ultimately rules, and we
are the mercy of her rhythms and temperament.
Enjoy your every moment in the week to come. -Jen
