Updated: 3 days ago
2020. The year of all years. Life changing, mind altering. A year of deaths and fear and isolation. When businesses were ordered closed in March of 2020, I knew Nimby Acre could not sustain the loss of income for a month or more. The rent on my brick and mortar was more than $1,100 a month and utilities ate up another big portion of profits. So I packed it up and moved things into storage. I put my dining room table in the garage and my 36 inch floor loom under the chandelier. This was the beginning of the undoings.
My ten year old Golden Retriever, Flannery, developed cancer and we held each other for the last time July 10, 2020. And I still can’t elaborate on the loss of my mother in September and my brother in October. Neither died of Covid, neither were expected.
I think everyone was relieved when 2020 ended, but 2021, seemed no different. I think I spent 2021 numb. Or maybe in an alternate universe, because I remember none of it. Or maybe I do if I look back at my camera roll on my phone. Nimby Acre was still in storage.
Now that June, 2022 has almost ended, I can say I started climbing out of the pit of despair in March when I went to Santa Cruz for a mushroom and lichen dyeing workshop. I set up my yellow tent at farmers market, and I feel like, just maybe, I will resurrect.
I will keep you posted.