March 23, 2020

Silver linings

One week into quarantine.... no, social distancing..... um... not going anywhere? There. That sounds familiar. Whatever you call it, here we are. We did run a few errands last week because we were worried everything might shut down and this week even more has shut down. But no meetings, no hanging out with people (besides my husband and kids. I am spending a lot of time with those people.)


It is reassuring to know that no matter what is going on around the globe or even a few hours south, spring is still coming. It is not the spring we had planned, but it is still spring. The sap is still rising, the birds are returning, the snow disappearing, and buds swelling. In so many ways it seems like the world has been turned upside down and everything has changed. But as the natural world ticks along unchanged, I realize it is just the surface, human concerns that have been affected. Spring is still coming. 

(And coming early this year apparently, for which I am devoutly thankful!)


Even with everything changing, there are a lot of silver linings. I know how lucky we are and other people have a much harder time right now than we do, but how lucky to have time to spend with family, experiment with bread making, watch spring unfold, finish up our house, and get to know my kids a little better? 


On Sunday we had our last meeting and last family dinner for awhile. There was a request for chocolate cake and I made one, but the icing was runny and not totally stable. That combined with me talking to Cody as he carried his precarious slice of cake away made a wee bit of mess. Fortunately, there was plenty more cake, so it was not a tragedy, just hilarious. 



Gilbert enjoying spring on the tire swing



I love this boy-o so much! 


Last week driving into work. 


That is one upside of the time change--I get to watch the sunrise on the way to work again. 



Walks with the dogs have increased approximately 185%. 



Pussy willows. 

You know, I can't call them pussy willows at school. Even young kids giggle and somehow understand there is some innuendo there. So I now call them willow catkins. Which is actually a fun name too, so that is okay. But still... 


Spring skies on the way home from work.


Why not take a walk in shorts and play with ice? 


Love this delightful child!


Spring sun breaking through the clouds.


Impressive cloud piles


Gilbert is such a sweet big brother. He is telling her about things and showing her how to do things she already knows how to do. 

I struggle with this a little--Elsie can be sort of rude about it--"I know that, Gilbert." But at the same time, she doesn't see any reason to treat Gilbert differently than anyone else and I sort of hate to ruin that, by telling her to be patient with him. 


Gilbert takes a lot of pictures on my phone that I would never take, but every once in awhile, I like them.

How our house looks these days--Orianna singing along to a song in her pajamas, Elsie's hair undone, laundry baskets around and morning sun pouring in. 

Life is good, friends!


Had the kids doing some manual labor on a rainy day this week. 


They were thrilled to pieces of course. I told them they were planking for gym class. Har-dee-har-har-har. 


I am trying a wild yeast sourdough starter. I takes days, but my first loaf is going in the oven this morning, so I am excited to see how it turns out! 


Cut pine log dripping pitch at our neighbor's sawmill. 


Spring on the neighbor's farm.


Waiting to get hitched up and haul sap to the sugarhouse.


Catkins on the poplars


Lily putting poly on the trim work.


Orianna doing the same.


Regular yeast bread. But since yeast was in short supply, I have been doing long rise breads that only use a teeny bit of yeast. The kids prefer the long rise bread to the quick rise bread, so that works out! 


The sugarhouse at full steam.


Some fresh bread. Seriously, I have made a lot of bread this week. Bread was scarce last week when I was grocery shopping, so I bought what flour I could and made some. And my kids eat a lot more bread when it is fresh out of the oven. 


Stopping by the bank to pick up some paperwork for our house--the lobbies are closed, so the drive through is pretty busy. Apparently a lot of people are getting a lot of cash out, which I don't totally understand since people say cash is one of the most germy things we use on a regular basis. 


Justin made a game for the kids the other night, that involves slingshotting pucks of wood through a narrow center slot. You win by getting all the pucks on your opponents side. The kids love it!


Gilbert taking yet more selfies on my phone. 


View from our new bedroom window.


White trees against a blue sky! 

I hope you are finding some silver linings to all this craziness! 

November 6, 2019

Accepting the Process (or not)

Oh hey! It has been awhile. Months in fact. Busy, good months. We have been building a house, starting a flower farm, beginning a new school year, and that kind of thing. Busy things. And really, I am thankful for that busyness. It makes life feel zesty when there is so much to accomplish in each day. But occasionally there are days that feel a little less than zesty. And for some reason, there have been a few over quota of those days lately. 


On Monday, I was walking the dogs after school and a group of very loud geese flew overhead. Since geese are one of my very favorite things about fall, I took a picture. But as I looked at it, I realized I wasn't going to post it to instagram. It was rather unremarkable. One of those pictures that only has meaning for the person who took it. I was the one standing there listening to their wild, flying cries and feeling that mournful, fall-is-so-fleeting echo in my own heart. To anyone else, it would be blah. You could hardly see the geese. The sky was not a sunset splendor. All the leaves had blown off. 

It was just an evening. The quiet, ending of a busy day. 


For the rest of my walk, I noticed this quietness. The lackluster sunset, the leafless trees, the graying twilight. 

Somehow it began to feel like balm to my soul. 

There has been a lot of busyness in life these past months, but it doesn't feel like there has been a lot of accomplishing. And being busy looses it's zestiness when not much is being accomplished. 

Somehow this whole perfectly average evening made me realize that statistically there has to be a lot of averageness in life. (Hence "average.") Not every day can be a red letter day. There will be days that are lackluster. Days that feel like a slog. And that is okay. I would like to blame society or instagram culture for my unrealistic expectations, but honestly, I am pretty sure that is just how I have always been. Someone recently told me (in my performance review, no less) that if the grandiose goals I have in my head didn't get accomplished I act like I didn't get anything done. My response was pretty much well, duh. I didn't get my goal. I failed. 

But in real life there is a lot of in-between. Goals are not met as soon as they are set. There are likely three thousand inspirational quotes that speak to this phenomenon. (I am completely unoriginal.) 

There are days busy with things that probably won't matter much in a week but would have mattered if they hadn't been done. 

But that is living. And to enjoy it on a regular basis, I need to appreciate the process, the in-between. 


There are way more cloudy half moons in the world than lush, supermoons. And if I can't appreciate the cloudy half moons, I am missing a lot of wonder and appreciation in my life. 

When we are talking about the moon, I feel wise and deep and accepting. Cloudy half moon? Sure, I got this. But if we are talking an actual example from real life... 


Our half done house is one of the current, real life processes I am trying rather unsuccessfully to enjoy. I keep setting goals that have nothing to do with reality since I have literally no idea how long all the different aspects of house building take. I just spout things off and Justin rolls his eyes and proceeds to just keep on doing what needs to be done. 

As I came through the woods that evening, Justin had the lights on inside, working on the sheetrock. It looked more like a house. I could almost imagine it being our home. Where we live. Almost. But then my brain started thinking about the what-needs-to-be-done and that contentment with how things are slipped away. 

And then I got frustrated with myself for not already accomplishing the goal of being appreciative of the process. 

Ironic.  

But for just a moment, on a Monday evening in November, just before the sun sank into a cloudy horizon behind leafless trees, I felt an appreciation for quiet things, for the process, for the in-between. 

And for now, that will have to do. Because I am still working on that. 

July 17, 2019

A Sunday in April

Now for some random pictures that I didn't post before. 

I present--A Sunday in April 


It was a nice Sunday, but not an eventful Sunday. Which really are the most precious kinds. 


Mom's cousin Alice and her husband came to our meeting and then home for lunch with us. 


Gilbert stole my camera and took pictures.


Abilene is a stinker! 


Nolan hamming it up! 


Then we went for a leek picking walk in the woods. 


My little leek pickers


Blue Cohosh


The flowers are tan, so they blend into the background pretty easily. 


Dutchmen's Breeches


Abilene digging up leeks


Spring Beauties


Hoyt is a boy after my own heart--he loves plants and nature. He had to take me to a particular place to show me a particular flower. 

We are good friends. 


Spring time pools


Bouquet


Sweet boy and dutchmen's breeches


Checking out Grandpa's auto museum* on the way out. 

*Auto museum seems more respectful than junk yard. 


Homeward bound


All that sunshine and a light breeze--it was a perfect late April day! 



Waiting for us slowpokes




There is a picture, once upon a time, of Tori and Livie running along this area at this time of year when they were about this age--but I can't find it. And it really isn't the same. Still, things continue! 


Puddle-stomper


Beefers


Supposedly all these rocks were left by receding glaciers. 


However they got here, they are vital for jumping. I remember spending hours in this pasture jumping from rock to rock. 


Underwater


Trying to not touch grass





And then, Monday morning's sunrise. Which should have been better cropped, but it isn't.