FIELD NOTES, NOVEMBER 2025
- This poem by Anne Carson:
2. Lately I’ve been thinking about how much time alone I need, while also trying to balance the guilt that comes along with saying no to plans. I’m endlessly lucky to have the amount of wonderful people in my life that I do—I just don’t feel like I can keep up with everyone while balancing work/creative life/time alone/general adult things. Moving toward my 33rd birthday and wondering when I’ll get the balance right.
3. A couple photos of the farm, which I especially love during these darker days:
4. November 15, 2025: Went to the rock and gem show with the family; A won a large agate in a raffle and I bought myself corpse crystals, which are exactly what they sound like. Afterward, stopped by the farm to drink coffee and chat. Ate too many chocolates and spent the evening knitting.
5. Two particularly relevant horoscopes from November 9 & 13:
6. These quotes from Bell Hooks:
“I will not have my life narrowed down. I will not bow down to somebody else’s whim or to someone else’s ignorance.”
“The one person who will never leave us, whom we will never lose, is ourself. Learning to love our female selves is where our search for love must begin.”
7. I saw/heard snow geese for the first time this year on November 14. I don’t know what it is about them—their size, or their discordant honks—but I’m absolutely feral over them. If I drive past them in a field I always pull over to listen and watch for a while. That day, though, they flew closer to the house than I’ve ever seen them fly before—closer than I’ve ever seen them in a field for sure!
8. November 19, 2025: One of those days where everything blends together and suddenly it’s past six in the evening and you’ve done about twenty different things. Some tasks of note: finishing up a drawing I’ve been working on; making caramelized onion pasta; figured out the order of poems for my next collection.
9. This notes app entry from November 12:
10. This month’s bibliomancy: a line from The Mountain Year by Chris Czajkowski, flipped open at random:
“A bit of snow fell in the late dark, but there was no wind and the clearing sky promised a kinder day.”
—Catherine
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