Monday, November 19, 2012


Look, it is autumn here on the edge, and look, it did not rain yesterday.  So Mr. Signs took this photograph as evidence, and because he has an iPhone and I don't.  The only reason I want an iPhone is for the photograph-taking.  This path is near a biodynamic farm with a hut that serves up pies, pastries, coffee and soup, even on a Sunday.  We had onion soup with hunks of bread and bought greens and salad from the vegetable stall.  I had an apple from one of the crates harvested from the orchards.  The rest will be pressed and made into juice which we will be able to buy (at some cost) from the farm shop.  We spent time communing with the pigs.  A particularly good-looking one came and eyeballed me.  One day he might be in a sausage I cook in my frying pan.  It is for this kind of reason that I tried to be a vegetarian and would have continued if it hadn't become obvious that doing so was making my precarious health worse.

We have been talking about the difficulties involved in continuing to live in Signs Cottage, and where we should live when the time comes to sell it.  To find the right place it would be easiest to move somewhere else.  I carry the forest as part of my inner landscape.  I don't need to be near it to do that.  But I would still be homesick.


Anna MR said...

I remember when I first got to know you, you were seriously planning to sell up and move from Signs Cottage. You had that Saint (fail to remember which one) buried upside down by the front door to give you luck at house-selling (or just for luck, I suddenly am not sure) and for some reason, although I hardly knew you or Signs Cottage or anything, I felt happy when you decided it wasn't yet the time.

Obviously, you know if and when the time is right. But I can understand that you'd be homesick. I would almost be homesick for Signs Cottage myself, if and when you move. Something about your home, Signs, something special and comforting.

Although I'm fairly certain you'd create that comfort wherever you lived.

Hei to the house and all that dwelleth therein from the land o'the igloos


Reading the Signs said...

It was Saint Joseph, and he is still there! I wanted to dig him up but couldn't find the exact spot where we buried him. This begins to sound macabre. But anyway, I like to think he is happy to bide his time until the right moment comes for him to unleash his house-selling magic. If.

Montag said...

Anyone who spends time communing with the pigs will be sorely pressed to find a suitable place closer to the madding crowd...

Reading the Signs said...