Sorry, couldn't resist, I understand if some of you have to leave and never come back.
Regarding my last post: years ago, before I started blogging, I read a post by a woman who was an alcoholic and was confessing that she couldn't get out of bed to go to work in the morning, so she told her boss her father had had a heart attack. She had forgotten some kind of connection that the boss had with the father, so her lie was discovered.
I don't really remember the fallout in her life (yes, I recognize that that's weird), and I lost track of the blog (I used to read blogs extremely haphazardly, I never had a reader, I sort of viewed it as a series of fleeting encounters made beautiful by their brevity. Then I cursed myself when I really wanted to find one again and couldn't.) What I do remember is the outpouring of compassion and kindness in the comments. I still didn't start blogging for a while, but even then I recognized that one of the most amazing things about blogging is that no matter how flawed and unlovable you feel like you are, you will find other people who feel equally flawed and unlovable, and that is an amazing thing.
I had a moderate-to-severe vulnerability hangover after posting yesterday. I thought about not posting it. I wondered if I was navel-gazing too much during NaBloPoMo, if I should be trying to write about world events or social phenomena or more sophisticated subjects. I even blocked it out temporarily, because I was at our weekly bar night last night and suddenly panicked that I hadn't posted, but then checked the site and realized I had.
All this to say, I appreciate your responses so much. I really shouldn't be surprised - bloggers tend to be an introspective bunch, and introspective people have a tendency to overthink things occasionally, and everyone visiting here has always been kind and empathetic.
So, the thyme. It is a big bunch of thyme. I don't know what I will do with all of it specifically. I usually cut whatever herbs I can at the end of the season before the frost, wash it and either freeze it or hang it to dry, then either leave it hanging or put it into spice jars. I use them in recipes, especially chicken stock which I make every few weeks.
We have a huge amount of sage. The woman that I mentioned that does outreach will take dried sage and hand it out for spiritual purposes, so I drop it off with her sometimes.
This year I also dried a few of the hydrangeas from our bush in front. I don't know if I even have a use for them, but they are so pretty in the fall.
I need to cut them down from the light fixture over the kitchen table because I keep nearly getting one in my eye, but I'm not sure what else to do with them.
I got a flu shot in one arm and a Covid shot in the other last night, so today I am lolling around being fevery and unable to lift my arms. You are all really splendid people and I am loving spending this month with you.
8 comments:
I am so, so happy that you posted your post from yesterday, so you were able to receive all the positive feedback from this amazing community! Because even if we think we're alone with what we're feeling, more often than not, there are many, many people out there who feel the same. I am glad you feel seen and understood.
xoxoxo
this made me miss my herb garden - I will definitely have one next year, but I missed drying herbs this year. My inner Ma Ingalls is suffering!
Moderate-to-severe vulnerability hangover . . . you never cease to make me laugh. So funny. I'm glad you posted that post, and that you felt love and support from blog friends. I'm not surprised. I so value the wonderful people who pop up in the blog world.
I had no idea you were someone who embraces your inner Little House on the Prairie person.
I'm glad you posted as well. I think we (bloggers, women, HUMANS) all need to feel seen and heard and understood and your post obviously touched a nerve since so many of your readers can relate. It helps us to understand - we're not alone! It's okay to feel this way. We deserve love and support from those around us.
So, again, thanks for your vulnerability. It was much appreciated <3
When I was a kid, my mother had a pitcher/bowl set that she filled with dried hydrangeas, and I just loved the look of them! They're so pretty, who needs a purpose?
I still think fondly of some defunct blogs I used to read either before I was blogging, or at the beginning. It's nice when a supportive community of commenters forms on a blog. It does make you feel seen.
The only herb I've dried is rosemary, one year in January when Noah was going back to school and I wanted to send some with him. It's warm enough here that some herbs overwinter and the rest I just try to use up before it gets too cold. (We had a lot of pesto there for a while as I went through the basil early this fall.) I still need to finish off the cilantro.
Vulnerability hangover! Such a perfect term. And this: "one of the most amazing things about blogging is that no matter how flawed and unlovable you feel like you are, you will find other people who feel equally flawed and unlovable, and that is an amazing thing." So well said.
Your dried herbs are beautiful. The hydrangeas in particular really maintained their beauty. Perhaps there is hope for us all, if something as delicate and transitory as a flower can hold onto its shape and color so well even after its prime has passed.
Your kitchen must smell divine. I have never dried herbs, but my mom has dried hydrangeas and yes, they are gorgeous. Just put them in a pitcher and use them to remind yourself (in, you know, February) that there will, eventually, be sunlight again. <3
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