Where have I been for the last year or more? I have been in
the garden. I’ve been coaxing thin plants from old seeds, I’ve been pruning
melon vines, harvesting dandelion greens. I’ve been in the forest. I’ve been
walking late at night. I’ve been mushrooming. I’ve been printing. I’ve been
asleep in the tent. I’ve been folding and piercing pieces of paper. I’ve been
dreaming. I’ve been in the marsh. I’ve been listening. I’ve been in the
archives, nose-deep in books and maps. I’ve been making lists of archaic names
for animals and fish. I’ve been drafting poems and proposals. I’ve been binding
books. I’ve been travelling around Nova Scotia, I’ve been talking to the river,
I’ve been around Lake Superior, I’ve been in the water, I’ve been worrying and
packing and starting over. I’ve been to Newfoundland. I’ve been thinking of
you, I’ve been meaning to write. I’ve been sewing and scrubbing, I’ve been
broadcasting oats and buckwheat. I’ve been watching the horses. I’ve been
homesick, nostalgic, restless and uneasy. I’ve been driven and listless. I’ve
been carrying water from the shrinking stream. I’ve been watching trout and
catching smelt. I’ve been unable to work and unable to think. I’ve been taking my
vitamins. I’ve been eating berries. I’ve been waiting for the big toenail on my
left foot to fall off and reveal what is happening underneath. I’ve been taking
notes, and I’ve been paying attention. I have been stretching the tendons in my
arms religiously. I’ve been taking deep breaths, and going through the motions.
