Berkshire Family Writes
It's been a minute hasn't it? It's funny, I started writing this, well, more accurately typing this on my laptop, but quickly switched to old-fashioned pen and paper, actually w r i t i n g this. Then I came back and typed it all in. Something about trying to type out my heart words is hard for me. Brain words, like bizshiz and the like, fine, clackety-clack all day — but my heart words have to flow through ink first. Is that weird? Maybe it's because I grew up under the bridge of two worlds, the pre-tech and post-tech or maybe it's because I've always fancied myself a bit of a Jo March type. Regardless of the reason, it's written, it's delivered.
The blog has been silent. Reviews have all but stopped and the majority of creative content coming from this camp has been Insta-focused. Apologies aren't necessary but please know that I'm not super proud of that. It eats at me. As does any time I've overpromised and underdelivered. Falling short of expectations is a real fear of mine and although it helps keep me motivated at the best of times, it also keeps me doing things that my heart isn't always into. I'm trying hard to remind myself that my own expectations are the ones I keep letting down.
Our website/blog first published on August 15, 2019. Three busy and unexpected years later and it's still there, sitting quietly in its corner of the internet holding on to adventure for those who seek it. As it stands, there's a handful of hike reviews unpublished and a book half done but some sort of false barrier of space and time is clogging up my mental pipeline.
Creative juices dry up if they aren't kept in circulation and shit has been stagnant for a while. Ice Cube says the hardest period for a writer is the period in-between writing. That's when you can go crazy if you don't allow the creative juices to flow. Ice Cube knows a thing or two about career longevity so consider these emails an attempt at a culvert. A conduit for built-up creativity that has no place to go but OUT.
The leaves are changing already. The rose of Sharon outside the window bloomed during the last days of July, her purple visage showing up early to the summer fête she's usually late to. Her leaves, once heavy with the weight of flashy, feasting scarabs have yellowed and begun to fall. The climatic push of the seasons ticks back another calendar day.
This morning from the bedroom window I could sense her thirst, supplicate for the rations of dew before the sun appeared. Behind the Sharon, the river birch drooped its head, perhaps discontent with the state of things. Scientists would call these observations phenology, the study of recurring phenomena, a practice of noticing the subtle shifts and cycles of the seasons. To me, grappling with my own set of drought conditions, these observances feel more like grim transfigurations, a nearly constant tribunal of penance for those with memory of what was.
Woof. So what can you expect from these emails? Likely less apocalypse moving forward and less long in the tooth but I won't promise to always be cheerful (or brief!) Consider this a free write of sorts, not necessarily stream of consciousness, but things that knock around in there over a month or so.
We'll see how it goes 🤷♀️ Next month maybe there will be another one of these.
Why email instead of social media? Idk. Maybe because writing it all out looks more like the poetic ramblings of an eccentric instead of the endless, word-vomit IG stories of an actual madwoman (guilty ac 🥴).
Below the jumble of thoughts I've included some of my life-lumps in neat little lists and bullets for you to enjoy, so enjoy!
If you're reading this, it's out here now and I can't take it back.
“The answer must be, I think, that beauty and grace are performed whether or not we will or sense them. The least we can do is try to be there.” ― Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek
Books I'm reading:
Go Tell The Bees I'm Gone, Diana Gabaldon (fiction)
On Writing, Stephen King (memoir)
Embracing Fearlessly the Burning World, Barry Lopez (essays)
Place we've been exploring: The Pines trails or 'Happy Land' as it's known to most Daltonians. No marked trails. Located on High Street across from the Dalton Senior Center.
Something that gave me pause: Is Declining Insect Population Bad for Humans?
Current obsessions:
Junior Mint Bites
Salted caramel cookies from Barnes & Noble Cafe
Mint & basil on everything
Stay in motion,
Tay
taylor@berkshirefamilyhikes.com