#WatershedMoment? Let's hope so

I refused a interview at Chatelaine, there was too much I was being asked I did not want to share. Discretion was still a good idea unless a woman wanted to be labelled as "Ex-battered ... or welfare mother or angry feminist." So I was always careful to say that book of poetry was not me, it may be parts of my experience and women I've met and known. I am all the women in this book and none of them. And Yes, I've been to the Moon and back.

Thank full Mother of Men #thanksgiving #wildjoy

My sons' teenage years and manhood taught me more about myself than I probably ever wanted to know. They are 33 and 39 now. These men still occupy most of the depth of the chambers of my whole cracked open heart. I am still learning to be the mother of men. They are still my greatest teachers. And now, I am experencing Oma-hood. Again, in such an unconventional way, I want to change that tired phrase, "It's complicated", to "It's simple—my only job is to love. No matter what."

Roominating: things change

So we have hens, the sheep summered here (now back to their friend's the big barn) and we were getting ready—well it started out at least—for a horse and a donkey. I took lessons and had great teachers, but not enough time on the back of a horse for this slow learner. I wasn't ready at all  for that particular horse, not enough time in that saddle and he was BIG (But so sweet). I think I secretly just hoped I would learn once he was here. So we adjusted, slowed down on plans, but then—donkeys! We could still have donkeys! Build a loafing shed! Well, turns out we are still not ready—enough.