I had planned a different post today-- a review of 2020 - from the flour selling to the kids at home to the business pivots and the like. You know the kind that land in your inbox every first week of January. However, trying to type it left me in cold sweats and having to pace around the room in a mild panic. The same thing happened recently when I tried to listen to a podcast on how food producers had pivoted their businesses to deal with the food shortages in March. I am not at a place where I can do any sort of reflection yet.

​

Unequivocally, we have been lucky. We are healthy and well. We are still together. We have a roof over our heads and a business that, though different, is still running. But I can't look back at any of it, without getting knots in my stomach. And I can't look forward either - my usual joy of a new year (January is my favourite), clouded by a lot of uncertainty and worry.

​

Yesterday, I was so paralysed by the worry, I had Kevin drive me to the lake so I could crack a path through the ice and submerge myself and think about nothing else other than my burning skin and freezing feet. It worked - the knot in my gut was replaced by blissful nothingness.

​

So, I am adopting this strategy from here on out - not necessarily a "jump in the lake" strategy--the freezing temps and uncrackable ice are putting an end to that - rather a "stay in the moment" one. If I focus only on the next thing I can do and stay grounded in physical tasks, it goes some way to stop my mind wandering to the next apocalypse. Its a strategy that serves me well in hard times in my life - I can't solve the world's problems, but I can make a loaf of bread for my family and a spare for the neighbours or muck out the barn or make a batch of cheese or hang laundry on the line or knit or go for a walk or something, anything that moves me firmly out of my head and into something tangible and physical.

​

In my experience, these little acts of making and care have a way of adding up - not only to get through the stressful times, but to make everything a bit better, a bit less overwhelming. Putting my energy into this 7 acres and what it can grow and do for my family and my community, seems like a much more achievable goal than worrying about the future of everything.

​

So, my next step...I am going to make a coffee, then pack some orders, then make some lunch for the kids. Beyond that, who knows...and thats ok.

​

Take care

Kat