Operation: Vineland… Part One: been out of the world for a spell

If you’re reading this, you probably know that in early June, I announced that I was heading out to a secret location to enact what is now known as Operation: Vineland. For a few weeks, I spent my life on a wee farm-turned-vineyard in southern Wisconsin, utterly alone save for my laptop, ready to write like it was my job.

No tv.
No landline.
No books.
No people.
No pets.
No internet.
No excuses.

Scary, no?

A radio offered me WPR’s classical/news station, so I could keep up on the elections in Egypt and hear the court music of the 1700s. I had a bike, in case I needed to get something from the nearest town (five miles away). There were some other houses on the private road, in case I needed to run for help. If the wind was right, I could occasionally get a weak cel signal. But for all practical purposes, I was alone.

My days fell into a routine very quickly. I woke up at six in the morning, dressed, and headed out to the vineyard and/or gardens to water. This wasn’t virtuousness on my part. The weather was hot and dry the whole time I was out there. If I didn’t finish watering the vines by 8:30, the sun would be over the treetops and BURN ME TO DEATH.

So 6 to 8:30 was watering/weeding/picking stuff from the garden. 8:30 meant breakfast and tea. Then I opened my computer and started writing. When the air got too hot (around noon), I closed up the windows and turned on the blessed, blessed A/C. The only drawback to that was it’s a lot harder to hear all the birds, of which there approximately a million on the property. In fact, there were woodland creatures galore. Seriously, it was like a scene from Bambi out there. The picture below does not do the scene justice, since only the badass cardinal remained once I lifted the camera. Imagine 12 birds on those feeders. In a rainbow of colors. Now add a few bunnies, chipmunks, and a wood rat on the ground. It was like that.

I usually wrote until lunchish. Sometimes, I’d make a healthy meal using veggies and greens from the garden I watered that morning. Or I’d eat spready cheese on saltines. Or forget to make lunch altogether and just drink a pot of coffee (bad idea, turns out.)

Sometimes, I’d take a nap. Or I’d listen to the radio. As in, just sit in a chair and listen to it. Crazy. Then I would write again, until about 9 pm. Why 9? Because fireflies.

Every evening, I’d sit on the porch and watch fireflies blinking away in the meadow and trees. Thousands of them. Different colors and patterns of light, blinking away from just after sundown all the way through full dark over an hour later, when the stars came out. By the end of my stay, the moon started rising early enough to get in the way of my stargazing. I’d go inside only when the fireflies thinned out and I could no longer maintain a credible visual survey of the property to check for zombie attacks.

Post stargazing, I went inside, tidied everything up, locked every door and window, and brushed my teethies like a good girl. I was in bed by 11, both because I had to be up at six, and because zombies.

So those were my days. I got a lot of stuff done. The next installment of the Operation: Vineland debriefing will tell you exactly what got done.

Acknowledgments: This installment of Operation: Vineland is courtesy of Tom and Giovanna, owners of the vineyard. THANK YOU and

GRAZIE MILLE

both for offering the use of your home for the paltry price of watering the crops. I couldn’t have done this any other way. Sorry about using all the coffee creamer. Also, you should look into beefing up the old home security system. Do you realize that house would offer literally no resistance to a zombie attack? Sad but true.