Reintroductions

Forgive me, Father it has been quite some time since my last confession.

It has been so long, I will reintroduce myself. I’m Rachel. I write. I make photographs. I grow plants. I am married. I am a mother. I live in a house. I like traveling. Being home makes me cranky sometimes. I noticed.

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Been busy, what can I say. Not feeling too reflective. Just cranking out plants. Sending out some invoices. “Generating the paperwork” as my mentor, Tony, once said. Loading up the truck with plants and driving. Carrying. Digging. Unloading empty crates. Getting f/cking rained on.

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Just got back from the Outer Banks. My, I love the beach.

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Went to the Mid-Atlantic Women’s Herbal Conference. Went with my plants, my truck, and tent. I camped out alone. Actually, I was in a grassy field dotted with other tents. Not really alone but not with my family. I’ve not traveled alone in some time. Actually, some deep time, like never, not since I met my husband. Haven’t traveled alone.

I considered asking a friend to camp with me, as in, in my tent. I decided against it. Being alone sounded so wonderful and anxious. It was pleasant and fine. Not monumental but freeing.

I attended talks by Rocio Alcaron, Tammi Sweet, and Kathleen Maier.

Dryer, Broken and in the Basement

Dryer, Broken and in the Basement

9:06 p.m. We’re on our way back from the grocery store. As we drive down the rainy road, I notice a mother in a window illuminated by florescent light. She loads her dryer. Her hair is tousled. She our neighbor down the way. Don’t really know them too well.

A partly dried lump of laundry waits in my dryer. When I arrive at home, I will run downstairs and turn the dryer back on. I will haul the groceries in on multiple trips through the never-ending mist and rain.

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