My mom always asked questions. As a teenager I thought they
were dumb questions and the sound made me want to stick my head in my shirt as
if I was a turtle and could retreat form the world. We would buy fruit and she
would always ask where are these apples from or where were those
strawberries grown, she would ask where the fish was caught. It was as if by knowing how far her food had come she could vicariously travel as well. Now that there is a
whole awareness of eating locally and knowing where your food comes from I
realize my mom was way ahead of her times.
Mom had a thing for sunsets she loved to see the sunset and she would rush dinner of delay it so that we could find a place to see the sunset. I remember one thanksgiving she visited us towards the end of her life and each evening we would go for a walk just before sunset and on the way back to the house the we were just below the crest of the hill and the geese flew into land on the pond and they were just above our heads. It was as if we could reach up and touch their webbed feet and the muscles of their flapping wings was overpowering. We both stopped and could not find words to describe the feeling. I turned to her and said I am so glad you experienced that that is one of the indescribable moments of living on this hilly terrain near a pond. It was the sound and feel of flapping. The strength of wings and the recognition of what energy it must take for those geese to fly. Tonight as we lingered after sunset it was fire flies and a crescent moon that kept us company.
"Akiko Busch, who was a visiting writer at Haystack during our second session, July 14-27,2009, writes about uncertainty and how it manifests itself in our art making, our lives, and in nature. While she touches on what is increasingly the spirit of our time, it's not a pessimist'sview. Not knowing exactly where we are going leaves us in a place of discovery. We are alive and embarking on a journey".-Stuart Kestenbaum