You Cannot Boil an Empty Kettle
Filling my kettle with poetry, family, and community. All while embracing the last warm days as 2024 enters its final season.
I hate to admit that I did not come up with this genius new revision of the old saying “You can’t pour from an empty cup”. I also hate to admit that I did not come up with this…nor do I remember who did. ‘Twas a TikTok and I could not begin to remember who shared, but I have held it with me since.
You can pour from an empty cup, nothing will come out. But you can lift and pour a cup all day long without consequence.
An empty kettle over heat, though?
The kettle will get too hot, it will get damaged. Maybe beyond repair. The kettle becomes a fire hazard to everything around it. Others may get burned.
So here I am reminding you to keep your kettle full.
And I will, too.
Promise<3
Mrs. Martha Benson: Farmer, Mother, Poet
I’ve mentioned before that I live in a small town. To be more technical, I live on the outskirts of a small town, in a tiny township. In my township is ye ol’ general store, The Bushhill Store. In the two years I have lived here I have filled my tank and coffee mug here numerous times. It’s like a cute Hillbilly bodega.
On one occasion this summer I noticed a tiny, handwritten ad for a book of farm life poetry and I was intrigued to say the least. I asked the clerk and was handed this paperback book and told the story of Martha Stump Benson.
Born and raised here in my tiny township of northeast Ohio, Martha has spent her 90 years on this Earth as a poet who dreamed of one day being published. For her 90th birthday her family came together and published a book of her poems to sell at the beloved Bushhill Store. Martha lives in a nursing home now, I wonder if it would be too weird if I asked to get in touch with her family. I looked up her daughter on Facebook to no avail. I would love to be able to sit with Martha and tell her how her 64 pages of poetry moved me. I cried as I recited “Posterity” to my husband. “x” made me laugh so hard that I sent it to multiple friends because I couldn’t believe how witty it was. “It’s Maple Syrup Time” prompted a family morning of pancakes, bacon, cuddles and stories.
The truth is in most ways Martha and I are probably very different. Or maybe I am being wildly judgmental in thinking that because someone grew up in rural Ohio, they must have most conservative and secular views. She could have all the same morals and values as I do, the whole point is: it doesn’t matter. I read her words and felt something awaken within me. The inspiration was flowing through me with passion. I decided I am going to write a book of poetry. I’ve already started and I cannot wait to share it with you.
I may not have met her, yet, but Martha, Mrs. Benson, is my new hero.
I am Already Nostalgic for My Garden
My first season as a gardener has come to an end. All in all, I feel confident giving myself a B-. I could have put more effort into weeding and harvesting, but I have a one year old so it’s all good. The weeds really took off beginning of August and the tomatoes came much faster than I anticipated. I also have learned, I am not really a big fan of tomatoes. Another lesson, my family does not require 12 zucchini plants. My god. My freezer is full. I think even the poultry are getting tired of squash.
I have big plans for next year. I am changing everything basically! Bigger plots, more separation between plants. I am considering laying something down to help with weeds…but that doesn't feel the most eco friendly.
I am most excited about the compost. We have been working so hard, my brother in law has been working so hard, turning it, mashing it. We have all different fungi on there. Our duck pool water keeps it moist and disgusting. It is a real hazard zone. Which means, it will be PERFECT.
This is 30 I guess, getting excited over compost and less weeding. I love it. I cannot understand how anyone complains about turning 30, I am still 6 months away, but I am claiming it now! I am thirty, flirty, and thriving.
New Hyperfixation: Writing Letters
A couple months ago I did that thing I have done a million times in my life and decided on a hobby. I ordered my fancy stationary from Etsy and when it arrived I did the most unusual thing. I followed through.
It started with letters to my 6 year old niece. She started first grade this year and I wanted to help her with her reading and writing. Best. Idea. Ever. Though she gives me more homework than nursing school. I currently have a list of 17 different singers I need to listen to. I yes, I mean need, because she calls me to check in and get my opinions and sing along to their songs.
I find myself being the one waiting by the mailbox everyday for the mail person to arrive to see if she has written me back yet. Oh, and it’s exciting to get letters from my other friends too.
At first I was feeling a bit uncomfortable sending friends letters. There is just something so personal about them. Intimate. It felt like I was writing love letters. And then I realized, I was. So I did what I do best, I leaned into it.
Now I am writing letters like Hamilton to friends about philosophy, our lives, different ritual preferences, the weather. I am quite sure I am single handedly keeping my small town post office afloat. That feels pretty damn good too. If you didn't know it, the USPS has a podcast and you should listen. Post offices and libraries are ESSENTIAL BUSINESSES.
I sent my first letter with a destination out of country the other day. Off to England. I am almost certain I addressed it incorrectly, so I am waiting for its return. Something felt so special about holding something in my hands and knowing that it is going to touch so many other hands before arriving at Katie’s little English home. Which obviously must be a cute cottage tucked away in the countryside, because England. It is magic though, what we are capable of doing when humans come together. When we connect.
