Spice of Wife*

Last weekend I went hiking at Acadia with a family (not my own) on assignment for Down East.1 Two days later, I went on a brief midday canoe by our house and hiked keenabskatnek (Mount Waldo) with Cara of Red Rabbit Bazaar, tasting the first wild blueberries of the season. On Wednesday, Chris and I gave a presentation about One Small Step2 to the Belfast Rotary Club. A round of speed grocery shopping after the talk allowed me a ten-minute stretch during which I jumped in the ocean to prove to myself that things are real before going to pick up my kids from camp. (I did not see the whale.)

The next morning, I headed to the state house in Augusta to rally legislators to override Janet Mills’ veto of a significant Wabanaki sovereignty bill.3 In the afternoon we went swimming at Swan Lake. On Friday, Chris and I had a day of intensive outreach for One Small Step—from Indian Health Services on Indian Island to Rock Church in Old Town to Petco, the public library, Inland Fisheries & Wildlife and the Veteran’s Center in Bangor to the farmer’s market in Hampden. Then I delivered food to a friend.4

I don’t know how long it will last, this freedom/flexibility, but I will say that this past week, I felt more happiness and deep gratification than I have felt in a long time. Every day was different. I was on my computer far less than usual, connecting to community in unusual ways and talking to people whom I typically would not. I also learned how to identify song sparrows’ call.

This also meant I was not going after any new clients, however. So here is the requisite reminder that je suis disponible for your writing/editing/content needs. More on my website. Thanks to everyone who has been sharing my website, sending introductory emails, passing my business card along, etc. You are gems and I’m grateful for the projects and people you’ve connected me with so far in this freelancing experiment.5

*You may recall that last month I revealed I am hilarious by letting you in on a joke: try swapping the words “wife” and “life” as much as possible. Please know that I, too, am rolling my eyes. You are not alone. None of us are.

New Work in the World

I wrote about being shacked up with someone (Derek) who dedicates their life to something I’m afraid of (snakes). You can read it here, on Insider.6

One night seven years ago, when I was quite pregnant with Gloria, I hurtled out of bed screaming. I crashed into a chest of drawers but that didn’t stop my terror. I ran into the landing, still fully asleep and screaming. I crashed into a wall. Derek and my sister, who was visiting at the time, ran to me trying to determine what was wrong.7 By then, I was kneeling on the bathroom floor, coming into consciousness. Ultimately, I had dreamt that baby snakes were biting my toes under the covers and I wanted to get away from them. I settled down to sleep but when I woke up in the morning my legs were covered with rainbow-colored bruises and it hurt to walk.

Snake dreams are both common and ancient. The fore-edge of the dream dictionary I had as a kid was worn velvety-smooth but I got rid of it a long time ago. This book would say snakes in dreams mean healing or new insights, hidden threats, the presence of the primal. Fair enough. I wouldn’t discount any of these possibilities. That said, as a person from a culture without mythologies passed down for generations about what it means when snakes show up in dreams or waking life, and furthermore, as someone who is married to someone who intentionally seeks snakes out, the likelihood of them showing up in my subconscious is pretty good, regardless of the deeper meaning.

Ultimately, being partnered up with someone whose interests are so different from my own is funny and good. The feeling is less, “Eeek/ew snakes!” and more, “Look at how much there is to learn about these creatures” alongside lots of opportunities to practice calming my body around them. The other day, I was on the summit of a nearby mountain with friends, telling them about this story coming out when Derek approached us with a green snake in hand. The other night, I got out my book to read before bed and looked over and saw that Derek had just opened Exotic Amphibians and Reptiles of the United States, likely to familiarize himself with a few species before falling asleep. ❤️

Currents

I heard Emerson Whitney read a few weeks ago at hello hello books/Rock City Coffee in Rockland and came home with Whitnye’s Daddy Boy and Heaven (both from McSweeney's). Daddy Boy features many themes, including storm chasing. I’m thinking about the role that weather has played in storytelling/literature and how that role will shift/is shifting. WTF climate crisis. Talking to people in other places this week (North Carolina, Florida, Utah, New York City, Vermont) reminds me how important it is to have a visceral sense of the weather through anecdotal stories, which can perhaps be so much more impactful than official stories about weather through the media. (No shade to the Weather Channel, who does precisely this, on a much larger scale.)

Birdsacre This place in Ellsworth is a gem—magnificent birds of all shapes and sizes, many trails, and a spectacular and storied house museum, all dedicated to ornithologist, photographer, and basketweaver, Cordelia Stanwood.

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