Graveyard Dirt: Two Worlds and In-between

No Joke

After I accidentally blew the windshield wiper fuse I sort've got use to not leaving the house. (WE TRIED, but every fucking time - EVERY FUCKING TIME, NO JOKE - I went out to start the car it'd either start snowing, sleeting or raining. On a few LOLtastic occasions various winter elements colluded creating an assault of sleet AND rain making it impossible to see. REMEMBER?)

For a few weeks it was cool since our asses were snowed in, anyway, but after several weeks of recluse living (combined with overtly nocturnal habits) I began feeling unhinged - especially once the blanket of month long snow finally melted. (Talk about a total mindfuck; I hadn't seen THE GROUND or EARTH or SOIL or DIRT for over a month. When the snow disappeared it felt like April in January and I was disappointed that there wasn't a snowdrop or crocus in sight to celebrate the event.)

The car - now fixed - and I got reacquainted on the 27th when we were forced out of the house and into a grocery store out of sheer desperation. ("Sheer desperation" = no pasta, less than a cup of organic rice and two shrunken potatoes growing yellow-white tentacles in the house.) I was apprehensive about crawling into the car (SO MANY BAD MEMORIES), but continued survival eventually won.

Despite a pricey bill (it was one of those "OH, GOD, WE NEED TO STOCK UP ON //EVERYTHING// SINCE WE WENT THROUGH OUR RESERVES" trips, and, also, I bought a whole free-range chicken to roast, 600g of sirloin steak (homemade Beef Stroganoff), a smoked ham joint and a handful of various REDUCED-TO-CLEAR packages of meat - not to mention the 6lb brisket we bought at the butchers for Bride's Day/Imbolc) the trip, for once, was relatively stress free and we left the store with a bounce in our steps.

The excursion was SO GOOD, in fact, that after we took the LONG WAY back (down the country road with the three standing stones; I love seeing the stones, but the lane's also good for roadkill since it has several open fields that attract game birds and people are constantly using it as a shortcut) we sat at an intersection for a second because there was something unappealing with the prospect of returning home.

Instead of going straight on we turned left for a lazy drive around the local loch (since everything in the trunk was either fresh or non-perishable). Within minutes our impromptu decision was rewarded - a freshly hit, mature cock pheasant was sitting yards away from our usual loch turnoff. (I believe "OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD!" were my exact words while excitedly punching the steering wheel.)

It's a weird mixture of emotions you feel when stumbling across a dead animal. As someone who's more naturally empathic towards them than people (it's an autistic thing) I feel ANGER and DESPAIR and GRIEF and VENGEFUL when I come across roadkill of any kind. Simultaneously, though, I feel excitement and enormous gratitude when I'm cradling a dead animal in my arms because finding viable roadkill is a //gift// - a gift of food, supplies, spirit work and a chance to continue practicing old skool butchery.

("Old skool" in the sense that I - the cook - process the animal myself. I do the skinning. I do the gutting. I do the cleaning. I do the cooking. And, once I get off my fucking ass and find a resource I like, I do the preserving. (Cleaning skulls, bones and teeth. Tanning skins to make them soft and pliable.) I take something covered in feathers (or fur) and filled with organs and transform it into something modern man would recognize. There is no middleman - there's just me, the animal and death.)

ANYWAY. He was-is-was gorgeous. Italics ran out with a garbage bag (WHEN YOU'RE A SCAVENGER LIKE ME YOU KNOW YOU //ALWAYS NEED TO BE PREPARED// WITH TRASH BAGS, TOWELS AND HAND SANITIZER) while I waited at the car, performing my own personal rendition of the sugar plum fairy dance. I didn't get a proper look at him until we were home, but Italics said the pheasant was in PERFECT condition and was still crazy warm to the touch (a car ahead must've JUST clipped the him).

As retarded and fantasy as it sounds, wind from nowhere immediately descended upon us the second Italics picked the bird up off the road. One minute we were having a warm and mild day, but the next? An arctic rush of howling wind that nearly bowled Italics over as he made his way back to the car. (Little did I know that the unexpected force was a less than subtle hint towards the weather's changing mood.)

That was two days ago. Yesterday? The first day we went out into the country for the sake of going out into the country. (Working car? Check. Up at the right time? Check. No snow? Check.) After making a quick pit stop to stock up on locally produced beef jerky, cookies and a bottle of apple'n'elderflower juice (and some yogurt covered peanuts for the rats, a jar of sticky toffee sauce for us and a bottle of sparkling elderberry juice for "later") we went exploring and wound up in Kincardine O'Neil "the oldest village in Deeside".

Bad day for being a tourist (it LOOKED like it was going to clear, but then it started raining and as we ascended the hills the rain became snow), but an AWESOME day for unexpected antique-ing. One of the very first things we saw turning into the village? An antique shop going out of business. (BE STILL, MY SECOND HAND LOVING HEART.) But it wasn't any old antique shop going out of business, it was-is-was an antique shop going out of business situated in the original smiddy (smithy) of "the oldest village of Deeside".

(I would've been WAY, WAY more excited had I not been so fucking mind-numbingly cold. The former forge was SO COLD that we could see our breath and were constantly blowing on our frozen fingers just to be able to FEEL the items we were picking up. Two gigantic hearths dominated the backroom, although their presence wasn't exactly awe inspiring due to being partially hidden by antique dressers. I would've taken pictures, but I stupidly forgot the camera in the car.)

The threat of frostbite paid off. Thanks to Christmas money I cleverly "hid" in my wallet (I never use my wallet because I never have any money) we managed to walk away with a pair of ornate Victorian corner shelves (£20.00, I think they were MORE than half off), two pieces of vintage horse brass (which the shop owner gave to us for free) and a spectacular set of 5-6 miniature horse brasses mounted on a sturdy leather "collar" (£3.00, I nearly pissed myself, I kid you not).

I was stupidly ecstatic getting back in the car. And then, if such a thing was even possible, I was even MORE ECSTATIC when we slowly drifted down Kincardine O'Neil's main street. We passed not one, not two but THREE old time churches, two cemeteries and one ancient well. The only thing that kept my ass planted behind the steering wheel was the fact that it had begun raining/snowing again, and exploring ruined churches isn't as exciting when you're getting sleeted on.

Elated with our discoveries and purchases we decided to head home since the weather was turning and I had promised everyone ("everyone" now equals my mother-in-law, Italics and I since Mr. Awesome, my father-in-law, is gone for a month) Beef Stroganoff for dinner. (WE ONLY LEFT AFTER MAKING THE PROMISE OF "WE NEED TO COME BACK IN A FEW DAYS"; TOO MUCH THAT NEEDS TO BE EXPLORED, PLUS THE SHOP HAD THIS SUPER AWESOME COOL SILVER STAG BOWL AND WE'RE HOPING IN A FEW DAYS IT MIGHT STILL BE THERE WITH A CHEAPER PRICE TAG.)

The ride home was spent marveling at the spectacular scenery and pausing to talk to miniature ponies. Even though it was wet and miserable it was the sort of afternoon I had been pining for for nearly a month. Yesterday was the sort of experience that cemented the idea that IT DOESN'T HAVE TO BE SUPER NICE AND AWESOME OUTSIDE TO GO OUT INTO THE COUNTRY.

(It's not that I shun rural Scotland in winter, it's just...I don't know. It's sort've like visiting memory that's scorched. I see FREEDOM in the color green, but there's no green to be found right now. Everything's broken down and sleeping, hunched over itself and limp. It's just not inspiring like it would be if it was green, or at least covered in sheet of flawless snow.)

I went to bed exhausted, although thoroughly excited over the prospect of FREEDOM. (Holy shit, you mean I can still enjoy "outside" without it being warm and green? DUDE...DUDE!) And after a month of being imprisoned by the snow (and night) I am seriously looking forward to just getting in the car and DRIVING to reconnect with the land (even if "green" is still just a whisper of a promise).

Last night I went to bed insanely stoked with the knowledge that TOMORROW IS ANOTHER DAY THAT WE CAN GET IN THE CAR AND FEEL //FREE//. And then? And then I woke up this morning to a fucking blizzard.

We're snowed in.

Again. (No joke.)