tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32224543360608955632024-02-06T19:27:15.032-08:00A Fox NestAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03864644130589471669noreply@blogger.comBlogger196125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3222454336060895563.post-21407043309727119382016-11-08T20:05:00.000-08:002016-11-08T20:05:02.339-08:00Love is Rigged.<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">My son and daughter went with Birch to the voting booths. After a stop in the park afterwards, they came home. Frida became distraught, screaming and flailing herself onto the ground. Birch tried so hard to understand to help, but for whatever reason, she just didn't want any of it. She came to me. I did nothing but clutch her to me and breathe three deep breaths slowly and surely. Just like that, she was fast asleep. A few minutes later, Birch collected her into his arms and gave a squeeze before putting her into bed. Watching her in his arms and feeling her against my chest reminded me so strongly that love is the only thing that solves those deep-seated, hopeless, desperate, lost moments of anguish and confusion. Had either of us responded with anger, she would have pushed back just as hard and just as dangerously. All of us have these moments. From both sides. I am at times so terrified, so heartbroken, so completely lost, and yet someone somewhere has ALWAYS brought me to the home within myself through love. Those that responded coldly or exasperatingly or overly pragmatic further pushed me into the chaos. Love brought me back and will continue to bring me back. My hope is that when I am faced with that chaos in others I respond with listening love. I hope that when I inevitably fail, that I catch myself quickly and am as swift in my rectifying love. Love may not always win, but it most definitely always solves.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01447024660793165707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3222454336060895563.post-51553517464843885222016-11-03T18:26:00.002-07:002016-11-03T18:26:47.259-07:002016. (more photos to follow)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
We've been living in Palo Alto with my parents for three and a half years. Keats turned 6 in April. Frida turned 5 in November. Keats started 1st grade in August and Frida started her last year of nursery school. Birch and I keep finding each other in the chaos and continue to dream of life on a farm of our own. This is our year.</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01447024660793165707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3222454336060895563.post-18795249706106880092015-12-24T09:00:00.002-08:002015-12-24T09:00:36.084-08:00Finding My Voice and Listening<span style="color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 16px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">More often than not, I find myself sitting in the car thinking of all the things I wish I'd said. My brain took too long to process and in the heat of debate or discussion, I concentrated more on my own emotional stability than anything else. Disagreement is a trigger for me. I start to shake, my whole body clenching, my voice trembling, eyes teary---all over where I choose to purchase (or not) my food. </span><br />
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In this last year, with crises blasting across TV and social media, my fear of emotionally vomiting all over someone else has kept me from saying much in my own words. I've found articles, letters, paintings, historical similarities, etc., and reposted them as a substitute for my own voice, but I have not really said anything myself. My mental health has pitched forward, unstable, and easily knocked over. I have allowed my disorder to take control and in doing so, I was silenced. </div>
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As winter takes hold and we each wait and watch for the incremental shimmer of more light, I sit here with my coffee, wishing for my voice. Wishing for myself courage, patience, and most importantly, listening ears ready to hear with compassion and empathy. </div>
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I am emboldened by those younger than I. As a generation, they seem to have learned something I have yet to and I am listening. They see problems with empathy and then ACT. They demand change and work with others to find solutions. Specifically, when looking at the overwhelming hurt that has tinged the city I grew up in, those in my generation and before seem to have just been happy to get through it. This younger generation is fighting back and raising awareness. Creating hope and a path to solutions. At the least, creating a place to exchange stories, ideas, reflections, and a listening ear. I have watched them in awe and now I have had enough of watching. I will join them. Lending my voice and my ears, my heart and my hands, my time, and my deepest hope for change and growth. </div>
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That being said, if you are in the Bay Area on the 27th, I highly recommend joining me and other Paly/Gunn Alumni, teachers, current students, and community members as we enter into dialogue about Resilience and Self Care. All are welcome. The more we hear, the more we'll understand. Please come and hear, listen, and speak. The event put on by WOPAC (Well-being and Openness in the Palo Alto Community) will be at Rinconada Library, 1213 Newell Road in Palo Alto, from 2-4pm in the Embarcadero Room. Join me as I take a measured step forward and learn to speak up, listen, and act. </div>
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I will no longer be silent, but when I speak I wish to do so in order to lend my experience for understanding and to listen in order to better serve. I hope to go out into the world stronger and ready to assist. Deep breath and...</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01447024660793165707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3222454336060895563.post-50362393262657491282014-06-25T18:02:00.000-07:002014-06-25T18:02:00.394-07:00HeartacheToday has been a hard day for me as a mother. The fact of the matter is, today started with last night, and last night was awful. I could rattle off all the various crazy behaviors that were flying at me at high speed over the last eighteen hours, but really what I want to talk about is this: I don't want today to be about all the different behavior that drove me crazy and made me feel like I was inadequate and scary and mean. I want to talk about how I want to be as a mother and how that affects me when I fail to be the mother that I want to be.<br />
<br />
I often look at my children and see just how amazing and wonderful and completely unique they are, but I also feel tight, like there just isn't enough room for all the different emotions that having children brings up.<br />
<br />
I had a son twelve years ago when I was a junior in high school. I was seventeen years old and my mom had recently been diagnosed with breast cancer. At the time, we had never personally known anyone that had survived breast cancer, at least that we knew of. I learned that I was pregnant a month after my ex-boyfriend had moved to Southern California to go to college. Looking at that strange little stick, I was scared and in shock. None of it really sunk in and despite all logic, I felt like it would go away on its own. But it didn't and a few days after I found out, two planes crashed into the World Trade Center. Everyone was watching. Everyone was scared. No one seemed to know what was happening or when it would stop. I went home from school numb and silent. I walked into the house and saw my dad sitting on the couch, watching the news. We exchanged a few words; something along the lines of “Have you seen this? Do you know what's going on?” and then I went into my room and didn't come out until dinner. I don't remember any of the rest of that day. The next day I went to school and I made my usual stop, which was the classroom of my favorite teacher. Being an English teacher it seemed perfectly natural that he had always known quite a bit more about me than almost anyone else through our class journals and essays. In the end, I classically self-destructed and destroyed our friendship, but on that morning so many years ago, when I saw his face I burst into tears and told him my secret. At that point, I was only a couple months pregnant and I'm sure he didn't know what I was planning to do. I don't remember if he asked me. All I remember is him letting me sleep in his classroom during lunch and the way he made me feel safe and guarded, sometimes quite literally. Honestly that was something I had never and would never feel again in my teenage life.<br />
<br />
Somehow I managed to keep my secret for another two months and then told my closest friends. At that point, I was beginning to show and I had decided not to have an abortion and up until I was seven months pregnant I really thought I was going to keep my baby. But in February of that year I woke up to a wail and my mom's footsteps pounding down the hallway to the kitchen. I could hear her sobbing and my dad trying to understand what she was saying to him. I came out of my room and saw them hugging each other, both of them crying. My dad looked up at me and said, "Your mom found a lump.”<br />
<br />
Around that time, one of my friends told my parents that I was pregnant. Unable to take the opportunity to come clean and help myself and my baby, I vehemently denied it. I don't know why. I think my brain just shut down. When I was seven months pregnant, I was nauseous and feeling faint. My parents brought me home from church, I went to my room and a few minutes later my mom came in.<br />
<br />
"Kristine, are you pregnant?”<br />
I started to cry.<br />
“Yes.”<br />
<br />
There was a flurry of activity after that. My mom and my oldest sister both helped me to get to the doctor and do tests and consider my options. I spoke with church leaders and eventually I spoke to my ex. I hated that part. In the end, I gave my son up for adoption. I've talked about this before. That experience left a pit in my chest. It made me desperate.<br />
<br />
When I finally became a mother again, I knew I had made a mistake I could never reconcile with my first child. For me, it was a mistake. I'm not sure I'll ever know if it was a mistake for him or not. I suspect that it can't be either because it just is. He didn't have a choice. He was so small. Now that boy is twelve years old. There's no real point in trying to guess what life would have been like or what I would have been if I had kept my son. I do know that I am a good mother now even when I make heartbreaking mistakes with my children. I want to be the kind of mother that can see her children; really see them. I want to be the kind of mother that sustains them and makes them want Life. I want them to experience life and understand how beautiful it is and how horrible it is, too. I want them to know that they can make the world a brighter, more beautiful place or a more desperate and sad place, depending on their own outlook and actions. I hope they don't make the same mistakes that I did, but I know that they will make mistakes. I know that they'll regret parts of their lives and that some of their lives will be painful. I know that I will be a source of pain in their lives and that they'll go through their memories and pinpoint all those little moments with me that led to some of their insecurities about themselves. For that, I am so sorry. I hope that I can be a strong mother and provide both my children ample reasons to love themselves and be proud of who they are.<br />
<br />
Today I feel like I failed. Hard. I could only see them as behavior, as things that needed to be corralled.<br />
<br />
Today I am grateful for the man I married. He is so unlike any man I've have ever known before. Sometimes it almost feels like a fluke that we’re even married. I'm not really sure how it happened, it was so fast. It's strange to think that such an important decision can be made so quickly and have such positive results. The man I married came home from work today saw my face, saw how drained I was and without hesitation rallied the kids, redressed them and took them to the park. I married a man that is giving, kind, persevering, intelligent, calm, adventurous, and patient. On a day when I know I have not been a good mother I am so grateful to know that my children have a good father. I am so grateful to him for being there for me like no one else ever has been, for helping me to become a mother again, for helping me be the mother I want to be, and for being my most loyal friend and partner. There are so many moments in my life that did not end well and left me scarred and heartbroken, but I am grateful for him, my husband, and that little part of me that somehow knew to say "Yes."Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01447024660793165707noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3222454336060895563.post-9666823003597999452014-06-17T19:04:00.001-07:002014-06-17T19:04:06.216-07:00a quick note to daisyBecause when one of your best friends exhibits such bravery to put her whole heart in the open, you respond. Even if that response is feeble and weak in comparison. You respond. I may never be the writer she has become and I may never be so brave, but I can do a better job of trying. In her heart there is an arrow that flies true. "Nothing dormant." So in that moment when it hit and hurt the most, I wrote what was first there. Highly imperfect:<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>a quick note to daisy</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">if i had a wish<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">a well<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">a bridge<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">a lamp<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">if I had a wish<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">my mind would go instantly blank<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">a pool of black ooze would move slowly<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">glubbing forward <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">blocking the holes<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">no escape<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">if I had a wish<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">no eyes would flash<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">no noses wiggle<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">no snaps of fingers<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">if I had a wish<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">that pool of black ooze would move slowly<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">gulping forward<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">blocking the holes<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">every escape<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">would go eventually black<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">and there in the black<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">sweet daisy<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">you would tease<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">there in the dark<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">sweet daisy<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">you have teased<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">if I had a wish<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">a well<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">a bridge<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">a lamp<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">sweet daisy you would be there<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">no pool of black could obscure your teasing finger<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">and no escape I’d need<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">if I had a wish<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">sweet daisy<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01447024660793165707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3222454336060895563.post-43779014389670842142014-05-19T15:23:00.004-07:002014-05-19T15:23:53.703-07:00Your Mind is Not the Only Part of You<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">A week ago, I was in the depths, but when I was confronted by another even further down than I, I was struck with a sudden clarity that pulled me out of it. My complete empathy with this woman I only knew through social media thoroughly turned me over. Seeing her words in front of me saddened me and I had to speak out for her and to her. So I did and in that moment, my own depression snuck out without a word and so far hasn't been back. So far. It will, of course. It always comes back. That is what depression is and it will most likely remain so unchangeable until it is no longer treated like something to be ashamed of. In my experience, there are a handful of people that take another's depression seriously as well as realizing that is a lifelong affliction, not something that is conquered forever. It is a transient. Though there is no doubt in my mind that others love me just as much as those that fully understand, it is always painful to meet with the callousness of willful misunderstanding. For now, I will let that matter go and focus on the afflicted. If there is a wider audience that might be touched into feeling just a bit better by the words I shared on Instagram, I would write these to them. My hopes are always with you. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #fefefe; color: #222222; line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It is too much to see the thoughts in my own head written out as the thoughts of another. To see my own pain in another. It gives me sudden vision and desperation to say to you and myself that this sinking heart that aches and spikes can do wondrous things as well. It can bathe in delight even if it can never stay there. Happiness is not a lasting experience but something to be felt again and again, over and over, as if it were merely a reminder of the beauty. Each changing moment so different and new that it both hurts and delights--that is life, not a lasting happiness or a lasting sorrow, but everlasting change. I have stopped looking to be continuously happy. Now I yearn to feel those quick moments as often as I am able. I trick my mind into seeing beauty. Photography helps me to do that: to see the beauty even when it is not in my heart. When my mind is heavy and weighs me down the whole world still, frustratingly, looks exactly the same. It's unwillingness to morph to fit me angers me and soothes me. I remind myself that my mind is never in full control of my life. It should hold no more power than anything else. I look at the children and husband I thought would heal me and though my mind is drowning, to imagine them drowning in the sorrow of losing me is the true pain. I must be here if I can control it. So must you. Your mind is not the only part of you. It doesn't make the rules and it shouldn't be your puppeteer. Let the sorrow be. Feel it. Then feel something else until its inevitable return. Then feel something else again. Know you are not the only one with this ailment and that there is strength in a depressed mind. I hope we can both feel healed and feel all that life has to offer and then give love to those around us. My love to you. You can conquer your mind.</span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01447024660793165707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3222454336060895563.post-62905193653933442742014-04-29T14:40:00.000-07:002014-04-30T20:38:54.099-07:00The Spring GardenFor now, I'm not going to explain why I haven't written in this space or what we've been up to this last seven months because it I just want to write and write about now. I'll save explanations for another time.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnZ1oOkSfX67iW95_MqKOTBfbYxaPG-rhb295Zp3YyYA_u2tx7COR4t3sHKEEPGmJZ0FQ4RDz9YC75UClWTUDOKuf0A1xXUyvjxG0iiEilBzVqt7gZNEfCA_1jBHPbnWKx3-x8iiqAcVBe/s1600/IMG_0350.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnZ1oOkSfX67iW95_MqKOTBfbYxaPG-rhb295Zp3YyYA_u2tx7COR4t3sHKEEPGmJZ0FQ4RDz9YC75UClWTUDOKuf0A1xXUyvjxG0iiEilBzVqt7gZNEfCA_1jBHPbnWKx3-x8iiqAcVBe/s1600/IMG_0350.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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We are now living with my parents in Palo Alto, California. Despite no snow and mild temperatures all through the winter, the plants still do us the favor of abiding by seasons and there is now a renewed liveliness in the garden as flowers bloom and reach for the sun and the bees, artichokes are already being cut from their stalks, raspberry canes grow and buds form, and we release ladybugs to conquer the aphids and set out praying mantis egg cases to eventually hatch and capture the ants and grasshoppers taking over the lettuce beds. Finding the occasional grub makes us all long for the farm life we've temporarily left behind as we miss our flock of chickens. Despite the pang of country life, we're making the best of the garden we have and it feels good.<br />
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Tomatos are in, raspberries are budding, artichokes and lettuces are producing, the radishes are petering out, the green plums are getting bigger, the citrus trees are done, and the blueberry bushes were choked out by the borage plants. It's time to put plant pumpkin, squash, and cucumbers and build an arch for the raspberries to climb. The roses and wildflowers need fertilizer. The painted lady chrysalides need another week before they emerge and dry themselves then venture out into the garden. Rufous hummingbirds are searching out the fuchsias and salvia.<br />
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Keats and Frida spend most of their days naked playing with water, finding bugs, riding tricycles, watering plants, digging in the dirt, and practicing using the toilet. Arguments feel less common outside. Realistically, they fight just as much, but their attention is easier to both distract and grab. In general, they are easier to talk to and much more attentive, but they still have tantrums, fight, and misbehave. Honestly, so do I. Being outside and keeping busy does wonders for each of us in our own ways. And for now, the spring garden is protecting each of us from wanting what we don't have and helping me to realize the perfection of Now.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01447024660793165707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3222454336060895563.post-20586107426077031032013-10-16T13:59:00.000-07:002013-10-16T13:59:19.232-07:00Learning to dance with the limp.<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Loss has caught up with me. That deep, resounding knowledge that something or someone is gone has embedded itself within me and I cannot shake it. All my life I have connected too freely. I have fallen in love too easily. As time went by, these connections fell or ripped away. In the years since marrying and having children I have experienced a haven of love and comfort, but unfortunately, that haven couldn't last. As a person suffering from depression and anxiety, I should have known the peace would not last. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">There are walking ghosts in my life. The presences of those I've loved and lost haunt me now and I cannot shake them. I am gutted and I feel I have lost my ability to connect with myself and overcome as I once did. To quote a lost friend, writing was how I survived. It was how I dealt with everything that happened in my life. I wrote down everything. In order to understand my own thoughts, I had to write them out and study them, go back and edit, keep writing, keep editing, until my mind made sense. I used to write five to seven hours a day. For years, I barely write anything at all. It's as if a section of me has been cut off and my mind has not yet reconciled its loss. So now, all loss deepens. I see faces I shouldn't see. I see them in the cars driving next to me, I see them around the corner or in line at a shop, and then I see them far away: in reality, far away from me where I couldn't possibly see them except for in my mind. That sudden realization that what my eyes merely hope to see is not really there sends a rush through me. I shiver and I feel alone. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I listened to a program this morning on writing and I cried throughout. It shouldn't have had this effect but it did. I realized that a part of me was missing. The part that made everything else make sense. The part that connected my past and loss with what is now and real. I've been neglecting the very part of myself that can lift up the rest claiming I don't have the time or the talent or the strength. I don't know how much I'll succeed in bringing back the part of myself I was most in love with but I must try. If for no other reason than to turn these ghosts into joyful and grateful memories. To usher my past into the past and wave every now and then instead of dragging it along, holding tight. To those I've lost: I miss you but please, please let me be.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. <br />And
you come through. It’s like having a broken leg <br />that never heals
perfectly—that still hurts when the weather gets cold, <br />but you learn to
dance with the limp."<br />- Anne Lamott</span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01447024660793165707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3222454336060895563.post-75969591616492418542013-06-26T18:12:00.000-07:002013-06-26T18:12:00.504-07:00Back in the MomentIt's been a while, perhaps too long or perhaps just long enough to jump back into this space. We still have no internet at home, just as much from laziness as anything else. But today I have a moment sitting by the chicken coop, listening to clucks and sparrows chirping, using my neighbors' connection, feeling the breeze, and swatting away mosquitoes every three seconds. I have missed this space and wondered what the next subject would be but for now I just want to reacquaint and be back.<br />
<br />
After months of fearing the news I'm finally happy to hear it. At least, that one bit I've been waiting for too long. Now it is here and more can be done and I am happy. Just in time to celebrate the 4th of July with a little more pride than I had before. Congratulations to all those who have been waiting and hoping right along with me. It's exciting news.<br />
<br />
I can't even think of what has been going on with me for the last few months. It has been hard and confusing, but beautiful as well and I am so grateful to my husband, family, and friends who have shared in making the confusion I've felt less confusing or just helping me to forget it for a moment. I know I'm being cryptic. I'll share another time when it's more clear to myself.<br />
<br />
Right now I'm going to join my family on a walk around the farm and fall in love with this place all over again on this, thankfully, sunny day.<br />
<br />
Love to you all and be back again soon. Promise.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01447024660793165707noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3222454336060895563.post-88728316795100283622013-04-12T11:45:00.000-07:002013-04-12T11:50:21.438-07:00Learning and Researching: Farming Books that Inspire MeI come from a family that <i>loves</i> research. In any given argument, I can guarantee you the dictionary was near always pulled out at some point. With a linguist for a father, a Scrabble champion for a mother, and five older siblings all ready to correct me at every opportunity, I picked up the Know-What-You're-Talking-About mantra. I plan forever in advance, read all that I can from different sources, and make list after list of what is needed and what I like. Yes, Pinterest is just about my favorite invention ever. Every once in a while when Birch and I are out shopping for needed supplies for whatever project, he'll say something like, "Are you sure we need that specifically?" It takes all my energy not to slap him upside the head with all the books, time, and effort I've used over the last several months planning for the project we're <i>finally</i> executing. I don't, though. Usually I just shoot a look of death and sigh that passive-aggressive sigh most men have come to fear and loathe. <br />
<br />
So, it should come as no surprise that while Birch and I scheme and plan to exit our current life and enter into a dreamworld (to us) of buying farmland, raising heritage breed farm animals, building a sustainable house, and becoming self-sufficient, we are both soaking in just about everything related we can get our hands on. We talk to friends we've made here (farmers and ranchers) and vendors at the farmer's markets, read blogs written by farmers across the country, read magazines and articles dedicated to farming, and follow farm-related news. But most of all, we read books. As you can imagine, some are more helpful than others and some are more inspiring than others.<br />
<br />
We borrow books from our local library then buy the ones we know we'll read again and again. Here is our list:<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Mini-Farming-Self-Sufficiency-Brett-Markham/dp/1602399840/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1365789823&sr=1-1&keywords=mini+farming" target="_blank"><br /></a>
<br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Mini-Farming-Self-Sufficiency-Brett-Markham/dp/1602399840/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1365789823&sr=1-1&keywords=mini+farming" target="_blank">Mini-Farming: Self-Sufficiency on a 1/4 acre </a>by Brett L. Markham</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Backyard-Homestead-Produce-quarter/dp/1603421386/ref=pd_sim_b_10" target="_blank">The Backyard Homestead</a> edited by Carleen Madigan</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Backyard-Homestead-Guide-Raising-Animals/dp/1603429697/ref=pd_sim_b_1" target="_blank">The Backyard Homestead Guide to Raising Farm Animals</a> by Gail Damerow</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Barnyard-Your-Backyard-Beginners-Chickens/dp/1580174566/ref=pd_sim_b_4" target="_blank">Barnyard in Your Backyard</a> by Gail Damerow</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Small-Scale-Livestock-Farming-Grass-Based-Sustainability/dp/1580171621/ref=pd_sim_b_4" target="_blank">Small-Scale Livestock Farming</a> by Carol Ekarius</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Making-Your-Small-Farm-Profitable/dp/1580171613/ref=pd_sim_b_3" target="_blank">Making Your Small Farm Profitable</a> by Ron Macher</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Starting-Running-Your-Small-Business/dp/1580176976/ref=pd_sim_b_1" target="_blank">Starting & Running Your Own Small Farm</a> by Sarah Beth Aubrey</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/You-Can-Farm-Entrepreneurs-Enterprise/dp/0963810928/ref=pd_sim_b_3" target="_blank">You Can Farm</a> by Joel Salatin </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;">Storey's Guide (to anything)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Omnivores-Dilemma-Natural-History/dp/0143038583/ref=pd_sim_b_35" target="_blank">The Omnivore's Dilemma</a> by Michael Pollan </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Small-Plot-High-Yield-Gardening-Turning-Organic/dp/1580080375/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1365790364&sr=1-1&keywords=small+plot+high+yield+gardening" target="_blank">Small-Plot, High-Yield Gardening</a> by Sal Gilbertie and Larry Sheehan </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Small-Scale-Poultry-Flock-Growers-With/dp/1603582908/ref=pd_sim_b_32" target="_blank">The Small-Scale Poultry Flock</a> by Harvey Ussery</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Basic-Butchering-Livestock-Game-Mettler/dp/0882663917/ref=pd_sim_b_39" target="_blank">Basic Butchering of Livestock & Game</a> by John J. Mettler</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Seed-Growing-Techniques-Vegetable-Gardeners/dp/1882424581/ref=pd_sim_b_21" target="_blank">Seed to Seed: </a><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span id="btAsinTitle"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Seed-Growing-Techniques-Vegetable-Gardeners/dp/1882424581/ref=pd_sim_b_21" target="_blank">Seed Saving and Growing Techniques for Vegetable Gardeners</a> by Suzanne Ashworth</span></span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Four-Season-Harvest-Organic-Vegetables-Garden/dp/1890132276/ref=pd_sim_b_24" target="_blank">Four-Season Harvest</a> by Eliot Coleman</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Heirloom-Life-Gardener-Growing-Naturally/dp/1401324398/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1365790735&sr=1-1&keywords=the+heirloom+life+gardener" target="_blank">The Heirloom Life Gardener</a> by Jere and Emilee Gettle</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Plowing-Creative-Low-Budget-Homesteading-Solutions/dp/0865717176/ref=sr_1_5?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1365791142&sr=1-5&keywords=small-scale+poultry+flock" target="_blank">Plowing with Pigs and Other Creative, Low-Budget Homesteading Solutions</a> by Oscar H. Will & Karen K. Will</span></li>
</ul>
<br />
There are SO many books out there begging to be soaked in and churned out into practice. We're still making our way through them and more continue to be written! It is so exciting to experience this life through others and I am so grateful that so many people are returning to the farming life, even those converting their yards into a place rich in animals and vegetation. I look at this shift not as a trend or "the hip thing to do" but a movement. Sure, there are people not as serious about the philosophy behind the change, but I believe that as more and more people start growing their own food, more appreciation and concern will surface and our world will be a better place for it.<br />
<br />
Birch and I struggle with our current place in this movement: willing and dedicated, but honestly, scared. Right now, Birch has job security, a regular paycheck, and amazing health insurance. He also has debt that we <i>must</i> pay. Changing our lives will mean the end of all those things. It will be a sacrifice. However, it is a sacrifice we are willing to make. We are confident that the satisfaction of our new life as farm owners and workers will greatly outweigh the comfort we feel now. It will be a difficult change which is why we strive to go in knowing as much as we can.<br />
<br />
We can't, however, research forever. At some point, we'll have to act. Find land, move, and start the rest of our lives. So now we wait for that When. It's coming but not yet and we'll need to learn a bit more patience and take advantage of our advantages while we can. <br />
<br />
What do you aspire to be? How do you help yourself to become the person you long to be?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01447024660793165707noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3222454336060895563.post-14356848726400547552013-03-09T12:00:00.000-08:002013-03-09T13:05:49.073-08:00Spring Into Action<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjciTC5ynwH4zMmK71tou-HoFWkv6I-HRdgqVD9ZLbM_G53k2hz7cduZG6vhGIOPBU9_bOJhuQ7D37hfGqP4yX9FlolRB8XzNpbf3Uapn1_MWSF5aCFbCc8AqILbRA437znSYy4xLd59H_m/s1600/IMG_2510.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjciTC5ynwH4zMmK71tou-HoFWkv6I-HRdgqVD9ZLbM_G53k2hz7cduZG6vhGIOPBU9_bOJhuQ7D37hfGqP4yX9FlolRB8XzNpbf3Uapn1_MWSF5aCFbCc8AqILbRA437znSYy4xLd59H_m/s640/IMG_2510.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We're currently obsessed with the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Butterfly-Patient-Dianna-Hutts-Aston/dp/0811864790/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1362851870&sr=1-1&keywords=a+butterfly+is+patient" target="_blank">Aston/Long books</a>. They are informative and beautiful and Keats loves learning all the different names.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We are, as of now, calmly ignoring the fact that we have been ill. I declare us healthy and ready to face the world like the incalculable blooms and leaves popping forth everywhere I look. The animals on the farm are giving birth, the sky has turned a purplish shade of grey, and the green on the pussy willow bushes pops like never before.<br />
<br />
It is so refreshing to see the farm start again. It brings a gravity to
the seasons that I don't feel when I'm away. The lambs coming just on
time, the kids nearby coming after, the leaves on the willow trees
pushing out past their buds, and the wild mint showing itself at last.
The fields of the surrounding farms are freshly tilled and ready for
seeding. Keats points out all of the different machines with impressive
accuracy and knows what they're each doing and why. <br />
<br />
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<br />
I've put in the fresh spring plantings in my parents' front garden and
sowed seeds for summer. Next up is the back vegetable garden. We've got
to put something new in the usual tomato planter and put the tomatoes in
a different one to refresh the soil. Seeing as the tomatoes have always
been in the same planter for as long as I can remember, this couldn't
happen sooner. My parents have been good sports in letting me head up
their garden this last year. It's good experience for me and with the
flooding issues we've had at home, it's been the perfect gardening
outlet while we get our own yard sorted. I spent most of my childhood
weekends with my dad digging in the dirt so this continuation years
later is fitting.<br />
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<br />
Birch has planted some radishes and other random seeds in random spots around the house "just to get something in the ground." Can you tell we have different project styles? I have to give it to him, he gets it done. I really am grateful for that. I overthink just about everything and Birch reminds me, gently, that sometimes it's just better to have completed a project than to have done it to our ideal standard. That is a hard lesson for me.<br />
<br />
I've admitted to myself that I am a perfectionist. I have a pretty heavy fear of failure and so I obsess over a project so much that sometimes I never finish it purely because it's not coming together exactly as I envisioned. I never once submitted a philosophy paper in college for this very reason. Looking back I can see how ridiculous that is. I was terrified by the critique, but come on! It was a PHILOSOPHY paper. That critique was <i>the point</i>! In fact, even earlier in school I had this issue. I think my parents assume I just never did my homework. I never told them I just refused to submit it. The work that was genuinely difficult for me, I was too scared to ask for help. It didn't even occur to me that I might have a learning disability until college. Then, when I explained how I felt and thought about learning math and learning languages, my special education teacher of a husband just nodded and said, "Yeah, that's a learning disability." Oh, great. The point is: I could have had help when I was younger, but I was too afraid of failure. I was too afraid of not being smart! The truth is, struggling doesn't mean you are not smart. It doesn't mean you're worthless. It shouldn't be embarrassing. I could have asked for help, I could have been placed in a special education math class, I could have asked for intensive tutoring. There were things all of the adults in my life could have done differently, sure, but when it comes down to it, it was my failure to accept failure that led to my academic downfall. I just let myself get horrific grades and accepted the storm at home when that report card dropped in the mailbox. That attitude has permeated other parts of my life as well.<br />
<br />
I didn't understand it then, but I do now. It's okay to not understand things, to have to work hard, to not be inherently gifted at what you're doing. The success you accomplish on completion is far more powerful than the success of a natural talent. I hope I can work through this enough to teach my children that trying is better than succeeding, enjoyment is better than easy, and most of what we really pine for in life takes hard work, focus, practice, and passion.<br />
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<br />
So while I plan out flood-proof planters for our vegetables and veggie/herb planters for the chickens and ducks to munch, Birch is busy checking his seedlings in the yard and pulling weeds when he finds them. Together we make a fairly effective team. We'll figure it out. We have time. <br />
<br />
For now, I want to enjoy spring and practice my new life as a non-perfectionist. I'm not even going to look up the appropriate word for that. <br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01447024660793165707noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3222454336060895563.post-90522384305190981142013-03-08T10:00:00.000-08:002013-03-08T10:00:01.183-08:00Sorting and WearingClothes breed, don't they? I swear I've gone through my clothes every time we've moved. Each time I've saved certain pieces attaching some sort of sentimental feeling to them or just hoping I'd fit in them again. Yeah... So now we're in this house and Birch and I are feeling the spirit of renewal and purge. New Year resolutions abound and I am not the only offender when it comes to clothes hoarding. I cannot tell you how many shirts Birch has with holes and/or unspeakable stains. I mean, he's had most of them since middle school. MIDDLE SCHOOL. I'll remind you, he's 32. Yeah. So while I reassemble Birch's wardrobe with appropriate wear, I'm shredding unthinkably ridiculous shirts and things for a rag rug and cutting up squares of the nicer prints for a quilt. The rest... well, I don't really know what to do with the rest. The whole point of these clothes is that they are not fit to be worn so I don't want to drop them at Goodwill or anything.<br />
<br />
My personal resolution for myself is that any new clothes I purchase must fit these requisites:<br />
<ul>
<li>It fits me NOW.</li>
<li>It makes me feel BEAUTIFUL and FIT.</li>
<li>It goes with clothes I already OWN.</li>
<li>It is HIGH QUALITY and will last over a years' worth of wear without warping or fading.</li>
</ul>
Very simply, I haven't made it a priority in my life to primp everyday, but I've begun to feel like I'm letting go a bit hence the rules above. No more clothes that fit poorly, no more that shrink or warp with one washing, and no more struggling to find something to wear out. I don't want to just be buying things all the time. I want each purchase to be calculated, budgeted, and thought out.<br />
<br />
There is also the issue that my life is somewhat erratic when it
comes to clothing needs. This is true of us all, right? So our closets
have to accommodate different needs and occasions. Mine vary thusly:<br />
<ul>
<li>Clothes able to be covered in chicken nastiness.</li>
<li>Clothes for date nights and parties.</li>
<li>Comfort clothes for sick days.</li>
</ul>
My most recent purchases since this resolution have been mostly from Anthropologie, but I'm looking to Etsy and its many sellers creating handmade items from organic, fair trade cotton, etc. Leggings, especially. I swear I've died and gone to heaven looking through the various shops for leggings. I swoon just thinking about it.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://img3.etsystatic.com/008/1/5155244/il_570xN.380594395_2u5w.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://img3.etsystatic.com/008/1/5155244/il_570xN.380594395_2u5w.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fox print leggings by <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/supayana" target="_blank">Supayana</a>; image courtesy of seller</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://img3.etsystatic.com/002/1/5321657/il_570xN.400068315_mvsv.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://img3.etsystatic.com/002/1/5321657/il_570xN.400068315_mvsv.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spirit Bear Print leggings in black by <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/prettypennydesigns" target="_blank">prettypennydesigns</a>, image courtesy of seller</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://img0.etsystatic.com/011/0/5254129/il_570xN.425418196_9a37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://img0.etsystatic.com/011/0/5254129/il_570xN.425418196_9a37.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Bees Knees leggings by <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/blackbirdtees" target="_blank">blackbirdtees</a>; image courtesy of seller</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
As you can see, I have an affectionate love affair with Color and Pattern. They are jealous of each other at times, but when the three of us get together all at once it's just steamy and fantastic.<br />
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The last step of sorting is storing! I have a few ideas floating
around and a Pinterest board I'm slightly ashamed to call my own. With
literally nothing to show for all the planning in my head, Spring isn't
going to pass by without this project cementing itself on the
checked-off list. That is paramount.<br /><br />Love to you all. What are your favorite pieces of clothing? What do you have your eye on?<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01447024660793165707noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3222454336060895563.post-53804168422130950872013-03-07T10:00:00.000-08:002013-03-07T11:17:15.115-08:00Falling BehindIt was inevitable. I'm officially behind on all of my resolutions. Wahhh. <br /><br />Our little family has been playing tag-you're it with fevers, colds, the full-on flu, teething, and zero sleep for about a month. I was keeping it together for a while there, but I have been struck down by the Yuck
and so I sit on the couch, wrapped in a down comforter, in front of the
heater while Birch (taking a sick day off) takes the recovering but
fussy children out and about the farm before it rains again. I made a
horrible breakfast mistake involving cheese and Crystal hot sauce and
now my belly is rolling around laughing on the floor. I'm telling you,
the things it has said to me this morning would astonish you.<br />
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<br />I started decorating March's mantle last night but it just doesn't feel right. It needs more potted plants, I think. Maybe twinkle lights to add a bit of brightness to all the gloomy, rainy days ahead. And a garland. Definitely. Also, I have a lot of rabbit-related decor. <br />
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As you might imagine, Date Night has been pretty much obliterated. We've declared a few nights as stay-at-home date nights complete with delicious, extravagant meals, but any other effort has been nonexistent. It's all right. We've been doing better. We had a run-in at the lumber yard recently that made us both think. There are certain areas where Birch and I just do things differently and we've come to realize that when discussing projects we both have to put extra effort into saying our ideas nicely and staying friendly throughout the process. It feels fake still, but I'm confident that it will start coming naturally and feelings will be spared (while still getting the project done and looking lovely). <br /><br />I still haven't finished ridding ourselves of books galore we don't need/read and I'm at a complete stand still on the clothes purging. We have, however, built a new chicken run that will actually keep the chickens in. (There were about five or six that consistently flew out to explore and demolish the neighbors' plants. Always the same hens, too.) With our neighbors' invaluable help, the run is now taller, slightly bigger, and easier to upgrade later. I'm still mourning the loss of our first chicken coop but what are you gonna do? Additions in the coming months will include a decorative top edge, a coat of whitewash on the inside of the coop, an upcycled window door, an indoor dust bathing box, and another set of nesting boxes.<br />
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With Keats' third birthday and party coming up next month, we are gearing up for the Great Switch. Keats and Frida will have the big bedroom while Birch and I go into the smaller room. All we really need is a bed and the closet but we'd like the kids' room to have tons more space for playing and storage. The Switch is necessary. I'm hoping to finally build a lofted bed for Keats over a playhouse and a small/medium-sized play table for their trains (with built-in storage). Keeping it simple is key. <br />
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I borrowed a lovely <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Raising-Happiness-Simple-Happier-Parents/dp/0345515625/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1362683546&sr=1-1&keywords=raising+happiness" target="_blank">book</a> from the library and I'm a few chapters in now. I'm really enjoying it and highly recommend it. When I finish, I'll do a full blown review here, but for now, if it looks interesting and useful to you, I can say that it is motivating, sympathetic, and useful.<br />
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With all that, this is the (hopefully) final month of flood season. If the house makes it through, I'll feel much more secure in all the effort I want to put into making this house our home. <br />
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I hope you and yours are healthy and well. What have you been working on lately?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01447024660793165707noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3222454336060895563.post-50804031968719565102013-02-21T12:16:00.002-08:002013-02-21T12:16:32.179-08:00Happy Birthday Miriam!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
You're my girl. Best friends since we were thirteen. Basically, right before it all got real. Haha. We made it, though, and I'm so happy to say that it was in large part because of our friendship. You are constant, compassionate, beautiful, loving, hilarious, wild, creative, direct. You have the best laugh I've ever heard. I love you more than ever. Keep being you and I'll keep being me. Friends forever, my love.<br />
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p.s. I cannot <i>wait</i> to see what idiotic pictures we have of ourselves together when we're 93. Love you.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01447024660793165707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3222454336060895563.post-83332804828798791672013-02-14T08:00:00.001-08:002013-02-15T17:35:31.714-08:00Have Yourself a Merry Little Valentine's Day<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life: <br />
That word is love.<br />
- Sophocles</span></span></div>
<br />
Valentine's Day has all kinds of cans hanging off the end of it: expectations, frustrations, loneliness, memories, new relationships, old relationships, sex, self-loathing, self-love, giving, gratitude, family, friends, and animals. We go out or stay in. And EVERYONE has something to say on the subject. Some people love the holiday. Some people love the idea of the holiday. Some people are upset they don't have someone special to share it with. Some people gleefully enjoy the "We're Single" romp out and about. Some people eat way too much ice cream while watching "Eulogy." (Look it up, it's fantastic.) Some people spends days and weeks preparing for their kids' Valentine's Day parties at school. Some people cut out paper hearts and set out dishes of heart-shaped chocolates and conversation hearts. Some people decorate the whole house. Some people write new songs commemorating break ups or glorifying love. Some people go all out and spend insane amounts of money on each other. Some people simply exchange notes. Some people start relationships, some commit to relationships, some end relationships. Every year we are inundated with how other people feel about a holiday some describe as a "Hallmark Holiday." So, I'll add to the flood.<br />
<br />
Valentine's Day is a set day when all of us can come out of our emotional closets and say "I love you" to whomever we please. Sure, we should say it every day, we should say it, write it, sing it, show it every day. But most of us don't. For whatever reason we just don't. Having a specific day is good. Sure, just like any holiday, we can drown ourselves in expectations. It's easy to do. I do it nearly every year with every holiday, especially now that I have kids. Trying to create memories and traditions for them is a daunting task. Add to that the pressure of enlivening my relationship with my husband and the insanity that is Panic Disorder and you could have the perfect storm. BUT, starting with last Christmas, I'm doing pretty well at keeping my expectations in order, keeping the budget down (or at least just reasonable), and making myself feel that I've done enough. Having a specific day to say "I love you" takes me out of my usual reflexive "I love you"s and gives me a deadline to make sure it is special. It gives me time to reflect on WHY I love who and what I do. It gives me a medium to express it. It gives me an opportunity to teach my children about the importance of love and showing love. My conversations with Keats about Valentine's Day have been my favorite so far. Christmas was fun (he was obsessed) but I feel like Valentine's Day is a holiday that truly anyone can celebrate without thinking twice (and yes, I know it's based on several saints, etc.). It is purely about love, gratitude, and charity. Even historically. It hasn't been so fully switched about as other major holidays.<br />
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Admittedly, I get a little confused when people demand they hate Valentine's Day. Really? You hate expressing love? Sure, sometimes the day falls a bit too close to raw feelings, but there is always someone to say "I love you" to. (And yes, I have a sentences ending in prepositions problem.) To me, it's important to remember that Valentine's Day didn't start off celebrating romantic love. That started around Geoffrey Chaucer's time (about eleven centuries after the first Valentinus was imprisoned and executed). Before I was settled and happy within my romantic sphere, Valentine's Day was always a bit rough. I not-so-quickly learned that I needed to move my attentions to others: friends, family, strangers and myself. Love is universal, all-encompassing, sweeping, and well, lovely. It can be as simple as a smile on the street and as extravagant as a world tour. I love Valentine's Day. It's my favorite holiday. Busy lives and horrendous events be damned. At the end of the day, I will remember love. In the night, I'll dream of love. And when it's all over for me (hopefully in very, very many years) I hope I'll be remembered in love.<br />
<br />
Happy Valentine's Day! <br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01447024660793165707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3222454336060895563.post-60543017612967462962013-01-25T08:00:00.000-08:002013-01-25T08:00:09.402-08:00The Year in Chores<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">This is one of those lists that I am<span style="font-size: small;">, at the outset, positive will be <span style="font-size: small;">rearranged and completed as we can. In between, there will be other to-do<span style="font-size: small;">'s like prep<span style="font-size: small;">aring for parties, coop chores, and hopefully getting more done than we'd planned. But here it is, <span style="font-size: small;">in its near entirety<span style="font-size: small;">. I'm <span style="font-size: small;">positive things have been forgotten or will merely be added as we come to them. Also, I know<span style="font-size: small;">: this is dau<span style="font-size: small;">nting. This is a lot. This is too much, really. And that is fine! I'm not so stuck on some of the items, but I wanted to get them down so I wouldn't forget. I also find it helps to have the full picture so I <span style="font-size: small;">get what I <span style="font-size: small;">can done in a way that won't be completely dis<span style="font-size: small;">rupted when the later projects are finished through. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span> </span></span></span></span><i> </i><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>January/February </i></span><br />
Entry:<br />
<ul>
<li>organize books (purge)</li>
<li>build driftwood
bench with hairpin legs (find reasonably priced legs online)</li>
<li>create a
reception station (boot & shoe area, place to put down bags, garbage
can, shredder, mail sorter, key rack, coats hung up, hat rack)</li>
<li>buy
large all-weather mat for the space from the dining room to front door</li>
</ul>
Bedroom:<br />
<ul>
<li>new bed frame (iron from americanironbeds.com)</li>
<li>buy extra
bedding</li>
<li>take doors off closet</li>
<li>purge clothes</li>
<li>organize clothes by
function (for birch) and color (for me)</li>
<li>take out boxes to the garage</li>
<li>create a space for desk and a wall filing system (for dealing with
bills, etc)</li>
</ul>
Nursery corner:<br />
<ul>
<li>set up crib</li>
<li>sew flannel bedding for crib</li>
<li>put up decorations</li>
</ul>
<i><span style="font-size: large;">March/April</span></i><br />
Laundry area: <br />
<ul>
<li>more plants (ferns, etc) in the window</li>
<li>put
up a line for drying some things</li>
<li>build shelves in the cabinet for
detergent</li>
<li>keep counter above washer and dryer CLEAR for folding</li>
</ul>
Dining room:<br />
<ul>
<li>clear up cold breakfast station</li>
<li>clear up hot drink
station (with added coffee supplies from kitchen)</li>
<li>create recycling
area</li>
<li>clear off buffet table</li>
<li>organize dishes</li>
<li>buy serving dishes once a
month until we have what we need</li>
<li>buy dining chairs (at least four)</li>
<li>buy booster seat</li>
</ul>
Kids' room:<br />
<ul>
<li>take doors off closet</li>
<li>hang up clothes (by function for
keats, by color for frida)</li>
<li>new bed for keats (smaller, lofted?)</li>
<li>buy
bins and organize toys</li>
<li>buy another bookcase</li>
</ul>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>May/June</i></span>Living room:<br />
<ul>
<li>replace and paint windowsill</li>
<li>paint fireplace white</li>
<li>create photo wall</li>
<li>paint remaining walls</li>
<li>put up artwork and photo
frames</li>
<li>more light (!) especially over the mantle</li>
</ul>
Front garden and porch:<br />
<ul>
<li>rake/sweep</li>
<li>build raised bed around perimeter</li>
<li>plan garden</li>
<li>put up birdhouses</li>
</ul>
<i><span style="font-size: large;">July/August </span></i><br />
Kitchen: <br />
<ul>
<li>put up shelving for cookbooks (purge some we never use)</li>
<li>oil drawers so they pull out and push in smoothly</li>
<li>small shelf or rack
for frequently used items right above the butcher block (to clear space
for chopping, etc)</li>
<li>shelf above counter for smaller bulk item jars</li>
<li>move
coffee making supplies to a special station in dining room</li>
<li>move
toaster to the counter</li>
<li>clean out fridge and put down liner for easier
clean-up</li>
<li>sort drawers and label</li>
<li>herb garden in the window</li>
<li>purge
glasses (so many means infrequent dish-washing and dishes piling up)</li>
<li>buy new teapot (le creuset)</li>
<li>put up shelf for pots OR get more hooks for
the pot rack</li>
<li>put up the three-tier basket for heavier vegetables and
fruit</li>
</ul>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>September/October</i></span>Bathroom: <ul>
<li>paint
walls</li>
<li>buy/make new shower curtain</li>
<li>buy new shower curtain pole/holder</li>
<li>organize diaper changing station</li>
<li>purge all old/expired products and
medicine & REPLACE what is needed (medicine, especially)</li>
</ul>
<i><span style="font-size: large;">November/December</span></i>Back garden: <ul>
<li>build duck enclosure</li>
<li>buy and put up aviary netting to
keep out hawks and little birds</li>
<li>build raised beds for vegetable
gardening</li>
<li>secure shed and paint</li>
<li>put up garden art</li>
</ul>
Garage:<br />
<ul>
<li>put
up shelving for boxes (at least three feet off the ground)</li>
<li>organize
tools on pegboard</li>
<li>clean out chick brooding box</li>
<li>sweep</li>
</ul>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01447024660793165707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3222454336060895563.post-82718790504298179752013-01-22T08:00:00.000-08:002013-01-22T08:00:09.946-08:00Resolution Three: Unclutter<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
At the end of last year, I borrowed <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Unclutter-Your-Life-One-Week/dp/1439150478/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1358647381&sr=1-1&keywords=unclutter+your+life+in+one+week" target="_blank">this book</a> from the library. I've renewed it once already and I may need to again, but perhaps I should just buy it! It is fantastic.</div>
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It sections out into Morning, Work, and Evening from Monday through The Weekend. For example, Monday parcels out as follows: the morning is dedicated to purging and organizing your wardrobe, your time at work is dedicated to organizing your desk and surrounding area in the office, and your evening dedicated to creating and organizing a reception station. This section is what hooked me completely. It rang true like a giant bell ringing away in my heart. It may sound ridiculous, but I just about started crying. Suddenly, I knew that not only could I get my house in order, but that I would actually enjoy it! I also knew that it would be hard work. The description of going through clothes made me a bit woozy as I knew the volume in our house is insane. Birch and I are clutter freaks! I tell you, we are downright redonkulous when it comes to cleaning up and making <b>time</b>. So, with this book in hand, I am venturing forth to declare 2013 the year of organization and improved sanity. #unclotterproject is underway. The clothes are being washed, sorted, purged, stripped into pieces to make a ragrug, and hung in a closet <b>without</b> doors. </div>
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In the meantime, during glorious car naps and moments of quiet playing, I've been putting together lists of needy areas in our house and snapping photos to remind me of what needs to be sorted, organized, chucked, or donated. </div>
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For those of you wondering, yes, the book does account for the fact that
not everybody works in an office and some have children and I left it
feeling quite confident that going at our own pace is exactly fine.
I've been even more fortunate to have a friend or two join in on the
project in their own homes. Care to join in, too? We can link up blogs, have an email list,
or have a hashtag on Instagram, maybe a group on Facebook where we can
post photos of our progress/discuss our ideas, etc. <br />
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In between the bigger projects I've been eying our books. Since the
last flood, they've all been breeding in our built-in bookcase, piled up
and cozy-like. My order-by-color has been sullied with horizontal
stacks of books I'm not always sure why we own. At least, <b>still</b>. They
are books we've read and books we've enjoyed, for the most part, but
they are not books we need or want to keep and read again (think: outdated textbooks, ridiculously depressing novels, and informative books I'm not sure were ever helpful). So, I've vowed to purge, purge, purge. And no, I'm not going to listen to my husband's odd attachments to outdated geology and math textbooks he studied from over ten years ago. I will <b>allow</b> him to photocopy what he needs, etc., of course. I'll even make him a special binder to keep the copies in and then take to work. Eventually, I will organize his work cart for him as well. He doesn't have his own classroom so he moves from room to room with a cart and it is a complete disaster.<br />
<br />
Initially daunted by the task, I was inspired to actually write out an entire list of what I'd want to accomplish this year as far as this project goes. It's long, it's exhausting, it's overwhelming... almost. I think Birch and I can do it. I'm giving us two months to "complete" each room. One month to save up money for anything we may need to buy and to do what we can without the item(s), the second month to buy whatever it is and complete the space. With January nearly over, I'm happy to say our first area is coming together. A sudden small dinner party at our place spurred me on yesterday afternoon to rearrange the entry a bit and now I have a very clear idea of how I will proceed.<br />
<br />
I also started snipping away at old tee shirts, etc., creating strips and braiding them together to make a rag rug. I'll be working on that for months, I think. Though I've only been working on it for two days, I've taken nearly every opportunity to work on it. It's relaxing and I can braid while watching the kids (ideally) or while relaxing as they take a nap or are down for the night. It's been an especially nice project to have while I settle for the night with something yummy to drink and an episode of "All Creatures Great and Small."<br />
<br />
One project at a time. One step at a time. One day at a time. #unclutterproject is now underway!<br />
<br />
What are you worst at organizing? What are you best at? I'm the worst at dishes and putting away clean laundry. I'm best at vacuuming and making the place appear clean for parties (but don't go in the one room I dumped all the unsortables into). Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03864644130589471669noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3222454336060895563.post-11363890866670773032013-01-16T08:00:00.000-08:002013-01-16T08:00:00.202-08:00Resolution Two: Date NightThis didn't start out as a New Year's Resolution. Birch and I decided we'd had enough excuses and we were going to force ourselves to go out and enjoy ourselves <i>without</i> the kids. It was really frustrating to realize that we'd gone an entire year without a single kidless date and then truly disheartening when we realized there was no good reason.<br />
<br />
I could go into the saga that is Frida's first year (in fact, I wrote it all down but it exhausted me just thinking about it) but I'd rather save those nitty little details as ammunition when she's sixteen and complaining that I won't let her go out until she finishes her homework. Sufficed to say that she was <i>difficult</i> and <i>demanding</i>. After Keats' super mellow babyhood we were not prepared for the infant that was Frida. Holy moly (as we've taught Keats to say in lieu of certain other phrases he's picked up from these two irresponsible people who claim they're his parents)! For Frida, life is either blissful or excruciatingly awful. There is no uncomfortable and there are no minor inconveniences. Basically, we were afraid and riddled with guilt. Not for Frida, for the poor sucker we got to babysit for us. The last couple of months have seen a change in her, though, and with the realization that Birch and my relationship needs a serious overhaul of awesomeness, we promised each other (while I cried over the phone to him before he came home from work) that we would go on <b>a date</b>. I utilized the glory that is Facebook and within about two minutes, maybe less, my sister-in-law was slated to come over that Saturday evening. I'm telling you, if I could have jumped through the computer screen into her arms, I might have done something drastically inappropriate. She was a life-saver.<br />
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That Saturday, Birch took the kids out so I could get ready. I did everything I could think to do to myself and I was shaking the entire time. I was nervous! I was actually nervous to go on a date with my husband. I was tingling with anticipation. I even shampooed my hair twice by accident and nearly the shaved the same leg twice, too.<br />
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In the end, the date was calm and relaxed. We didn't really know what to do with ourselves, actually. We went with the old standby of sunset and sushi. I mean, you just can't go wrong. We came home relaxed. Relieved. Refreshed. All the moments that had been so difficult in the last year had just melted away in those few hours. We could just enjoy each other. <br />
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We've had a couple of dates since then, but they felt random and unplanned (and not in a good way). Then we met our new neighbors. They have two children right around our kids' ages. They invited us to dinner at their home and as the kids played amazingly well together, the adults drank a little too much wine. Match made in heaven. So, we made a plan. We'd switch off date nights and babysit for each other, that way we'd get at least one date in a month if not more! When we got home, the wheels started turning. How could we go on even more dates? <br />
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I made up a calendar. Every first Saturday, grandparents babysit. Every second Saturday, we babysit and our neighbors go out. Every third Saturday, our neighbors babysit. Every fourth Saturday, either we stay home OR hire a babysitter for all four kids, split the cost and go on a double date! If there is a fifth Saturday, we stay home. Genius.<br />
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After finishing the calendar, I immediately went into our budget and adjusted and rearranged. Now there is a big, new category: <b>Date Night</b>. It has three subsections: solo dates, double date, and babysitter. We don't need our dates to be extravagant. Sometimes we'll most likely stay in and enjoy the quiet in our home or watch a movie together, uninterrupted, with the volume up so we aren't constantly asking each other what that person just said. I've scoured <a href="http://pinterest.com/afarmfox/date-night/" target="_blank">Pinterest</a> for date night ideas, too. <br />
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Some of my favorites:<br />
<a href="http://www.wifemomsuperwoman.com/2012/10/01/30-non-cheesy-date-night-ideas/" target="_blank">Wife.Mom.Superwoman's 30 (Non-Cheesy) Date Ideas</a><br />
<a href="http://www.weddingchicks.com/2011/11/15/first-anniversary-ideas/" target="_blank">The Bridal Tree's First Anniversary Idea</a> (our 5th is coming up!)<br />
<a href="http://www.lovethegrows.com/p/qa-questions.html" target="_blank">Love the Grow's His & Her Q & A</a> <br />
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Keeping our relationship growing and alive is very important to us. We love each other so very much and we know we both deserve to not only have more fun with our relationship but also to continually get to know each other. People change as time passes. Birch and I are both different people than when we met, than the people we were when we married, and we are certainly different after having two kids. Growing and changing is perfectly fine and expected. I just want to make sure I stay connected and never grow so busy that I forgot to know the person I chose to spend the rest of my life with and I hope/know Birch feels the same.<br />
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What is your favorite date night activity? What have you been yearning to do?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03864644130589471669noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3222454336060895563.post-50447401690208790402013-01-09T09:00:00.000-08:002013-01-09T19:13:28.522-08:00Resolution One: Family Budget<span style="font-size: large;">Why we needed a budget: </span><br>
At the end of each month, we were routinely running out of money, sometimes with bills left to pay. This made it so that some bills were doubled the next month and our money very quickly began slipping through our fingers<br>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Deciding what we value:</span><br>
<b>Food.</b> Once I put together an initial budget, it became clear that we spent a whole lot more than most people we knew on groceries. Since we buy high quality food, we accept and expect the higher cost. We try to buy food we can feel ethically sound in buying (pasture-raised meat, eggs, and dairy; local and organic vegetables and fruit, organic grains and sugar, etc). We also spread our money around many different grocery stores and farmer's markets. We have one store that has the best deal on bulk items like flour and rice, another store where we buy harder-to-find "ethnic" ingredients like fresh locally-made tofu and noodles, and we buy the bulk of our vegetables and fruit in season at the local farmer's markets. Though we knew we wanted to pay more for higher quality, we also knew we were spending too much and too impulsively. So we made up a system for ourselves where we buy bulk items and household necessities (like toilet paper) once a month, then have a set weekly budget for the farmer's markets (where we buy our meat, vegetables, and fruit). Having a set amount before entering the store or market (as well as eating <i>beforehand</i>) has made our spending decrease by $200 per month. <br>
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<b>Eating Out.</b> It became clear that since Birch and I cook almost exclusively from scratch for each meal of the day, we really appreciate a meal out of the house at least once a week. Nothing too extravagant, just a pop-in to the local taqueria or a snack at the bakery. Looking at our unstructured budget, we could see that we were eating out too regularly and most of all when we were stressed. Putting a cap on what we could spend eating out meant that we had something to look forward to each week. We have come to look at it as a little present to ourselves instead of an escape.<br>
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It also meant we had to figure out how to make mealtime at home a better experience for everybody. Birch is an amazing cook, but the nature of cooking from scratch is that it takes longer! After spending all day with the kids, I'm usually in dire need of a break when Birch gets home. So, we're working on meal-planning and stream-lining chores so Birch doesn't end up washing dishes he needs instead of preparing the family meal.<br>
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Doing this has saved us about $100 per month. <br>
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<a href="http://afoxnest.blogspot.com/2013/01/resolution-one-family-budget.html#more">Read more »</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03864644130589471669noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3222454336060895563.post-50056848020860158472013-01-07T09:00:00.000-08:002013-01-07T09:00:01.704-08:00When It Rains, It Floods<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Like I said before, winter here is wet. Spring even more so. Since
November, we've had two flooding scares. The first time was the most
emotional for me. We weren't prepared in any way for it. It's not a
flash flooding situation, more of a five-foot-high-and-rising situation
(though, not five feet high, thankfully). The water rises high first
from the field across the road from us. The creek floods there and then
Pescadero Creek floods coming down our road from the other direction.
When that happens, our house is in danger of major flooding. Our place
is already raised about two and a half feet from the ground, but when it
floods, we're still in danger of our floors getting soaked. Yuck. Our
landlords will be raising the house even more in the coming months,
though we're not sure when. We assume they'll have to wait until
reliably dry weather which isn't until August and September. </div>
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That first
flood of the season was a doozy for me. Not knowing what to expect, I
ran around the house like a madwoman, collecting all of what we deemed
to be "favorites" and boxing them up to either put up high or bring with
us in the car. I found gifts from friends who've passed away and took photos out from their frames. In hindsight, much of what I did to prepare was an overreaction to the situation. I was scared and a newbie to the whole situation so I'll go ahead and excuse myself. That experience left me a bit numb and I questioned whether to decorate for Christmas, but in the end, I did and I was glad.</div>
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The second flood took place the night before Christmas Eve. We were calmer this time. Most things were still arranged for easy pick up and removal. And this time, we saw it coming. The timing was a bit crazy as we were out of town that morning, but we got home in time and packed up to go stay at a cabin the owners provided for us. Driving up to it, Birch and I immediately relaxed. It was beautiful and serene. If we had to be out of our place for Christmas, this is where we wanted to do it. The morning of Christmas Eve, we checked our floors at home: all dry and the water was already draining from the yard. We were so happy and relieved as the water had risen higher than before and we were nervous driving home. We spent Christmas Eve and morning cozy and grateful at home. We awoke to our Christmas tree towering above us and clear light shining through the window. It was a clear, beautiful day and we were right where we wanted to be.</div>
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These
experiences also just furthered that spring cleaning bug we've been
feeling for months. That ongoing project of perfecting our various
systems and routines, the purging, the journey to Less Stuff. You'll hear more of that another time.<br />
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It should also be noted that both floods were a dream come true for Keats...Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03864644130589471669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3222454336060895563.post-34057262530945200772013-01-04T22:05:00.000-08:002013-01-04T22:05:41.468-08:00Winter on the Farm<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It is wet and cold now. There are days of bright sunshine when we run outside and soak it up, even when the air is chilled and our noses turn pink. Mostly it is cloudy, overcast, and rainy. Of course, temperatures don't dip below thirty degrees Fahrenheit and it doesn't snow here, so "winter" is used loosely here, but to us it is a far cry from a California summer where everything is just lovely and perfect outside and to stay in seems like sacrilege. So, we made a promise to ourselves that we would get out in it every day and bring at least one thing back to put up on our nature board. <br />
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Even Frida now understands the going out process and brings us each article of clothing she will need especially: coat, shoes, hat. With Keats, it's almost always a frustrating process with reminders of patience and "You don't have your boots on yet." That boy loves stomping in puddles and they are everywhere this time of year. The ground is squishy and the creeks are high. He stomps and trudges through fresh and muddy puddles alike, coming out soaked and smiling ear to ear. We've learned to bring two strollers with us now as Keats quickly realizes that it's not actually comfortable to walk in boots filled with water. We need to get him some waders!<br />
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We still haven't found any good quality boots in Frida's size so her puddle stomping days will have to be in the coming rainy months when she reaches a toddler's size five (her feet are tiny). For now, Keats helps her by pushing her through the puddles in her stroller. They both squeal as the water splashes up. <br />
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Frida more and more wants to be out of the stroller and walking about just like her big brother. She is good about holding hands which makes it easier to steer her away from tricky spots on the path. It takes us about an hour to walk the entire forty-acre farm at a leisurely (read: baby step) pace, but that's without stopping too much to see the animals and play, so usually we're out and about for at least two and a half hours if not three. During the rest of the year, the kids get two farm walks a day: one with me in the morning and one with Birch once he gets home from work, but with the sun going down so early, they're only getting one in these days. If Birch gets home with some time left before dark, the kids go out with him to the basketball court next to our place and play kickball. I am so grateful to Birch for these breaks. On the busiest of days, a break means I can finally wash some dishes or vacuum the floor. On lazier days, I can take some time for myself to watch something, write, READ, or even... gasp... take a long bath. When the day hasn't been too wearing, I go out with the rest of the family and play. It's nice to get a break from the kids, but that usually means more time away from Birch so I go out with them when I can, if only to get a strong arm wrapped around my waist for just a moment or to hook arms and hold hands while the kids entertain themselves a bit.<br />
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The farm changes quite a bit from season to season. Some of the larger willow trees are cut back after the fall harvest while the smaller trees and bushes are left to bud and then harvested to make more decorative fences and things. We've watched this process only twice since we began our time here on the farm and have pieced together what we could from our distant observations. I'll have to ask about it more the next time I see the owners. The farm has so many things going on, there is always something being done. Hustle and bustle is a way of life here, but there is a great rhythm to it. The busyness here is different than that of the city or even the suburbs. The country is a special place. The work here is hard and constant but it has the appearance of leisure. Riding around in tractors and forklifts, herding sheep with a pack of dogs, feeding pigs... it all seems so idyllic. To me. Some people look at us like we're crazy when we tell them what we enjoy. You should have seen my sister's face when I told her Birch wanted a whole hog for Christmas. Let me clarify that I do mean "idyllic," not easy, not always fun, but idyllic. Farming in this way seems to us to be the perfect marriage of doing what interests us and acting on the principles that are important to us in order to make our world a little better.<br />
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This place is a wonderland to us. Seeing it everyday, coming home to it everyday, watching it change and evolve right before our eyes is all absolutely stunning. We see so much wildlife everyday. I count all the different seasonal birds, take note of who stays year-round, and watch for other wildlife like coyotes, bobcats, deer, and the very occasional mountain lion. We hear frogs and crickets every night. We have daily visitors such as owls, hawks, kites, egrets, and herons. Ducks and geese land in the flooded field across the road. We see tracks from raccoons, badgers, and so many more. Often we find the remains of animals in various states of decomposition. Keats is curious and compassionate, so we discuss what might have happened to the animal and what might happen to it now that it has passed on. It's a good opportunity to introduce him to the topic in a way that isn't overly traumatic. When we lost Harlequin, our rabbit, Keats was still quite young and couldn't really understand it. He just waited at Harlequin's cage for him to come out. Birch and I would see this and tear up. Not knowing what to say, I told him that Harlequin had "gone bye-bye." It worked, but it felt a bit like cheating. Now that Keats is older, I feel like he needs a better understanding of death and loss. I've always been afraid of death and even more afraid of others dying. My very first memory is standing next to my aunt right after she passed away. I can see her face very clearly, not her face as she was in life, but the strange face that appears after we die. I've seen it too often. I've seen too many relatives, too many friends pass away and I can only hope that my children will have a better understanding of the event than I. <br />
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Winter can have the appearance of a mass death among all
things, but looking closely, I can see life pushing forward, growing
stronger, and making its way to being even more brilliant than it was
the previous year. 2012 was the winter of my marriage. It was hard. It
seemed like too many things were falling apart. Birch and I didn't love
each other any less than the day we got married, but our days became
relentlessly filled with frustration, sorrow, and exhaustion. We've
learned our lesson now. We're pulling ourselves back up. I can only hope
we have the resilience of the farm that takes what it is given and
makes itself stronger and more beautiful than it has ever been. I know
we can do it. I've told some friends and family that Birch and I are
struggling and they immediately become quite worried. Don't be. Birch
and I are fine, we are in love, we are committed to each other and to
our life together. Some days are harder than others; some years are
harder than others. I'm so very happy that a new year has begun, that
Birch and I have summoned up and renewed our energy, and that we have
such caring individuals all around us who help us to be who we want. Who
knows, this may be another hard year for us, but I already feel
stronger as my roots sink deeper into the earth here on the farm. <br /><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03864644130589471669noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3222454336060895563.post-33117404981469709582013-01-03T15:35:00.001-08:002013-01-03T15:40:54.022-08:00Happy New Year!<div class="sflyProductPreviewWidget" style="height: 494px; width: 425px;">
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01447024660793165707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3222454336060895563.post-12218747961107871022012-12-30T11:54:00.001-08:002012-12-30T11:54:47.138-08:00And There It GoesI'm so grateful that we got to end this terrible year with Christmas, family, and friends. I know many people who have felt the same about this year. Honestly, it was all just too much for me and I am counting on the magic renewal of a new year. That's how it works, right? Everything is just instantly better as the clock strikes 12:01 a.m. on January 1st? No? Of course it does! Huzzah.<br />
<br />
There's much I could say about it all, but I'm not ready. I am grateful for all the good that regularly sneaked in, squeaked, and quietly rocked me on top of the waves of horror, shock, and pure Sad. I am grateful for the peace I felt at Christmastime. I was not the giant stressball I usually have been the last few years. This year, I was just grateful to wake up and watch my children open their presents. I was grateful to be able to provide a Christmas that lived up to my boys' hopes. I was grateful to feel ease even as water rose up the stairs of our porch and know that me and my family had many places to go should the flood destroy the floor of our home. I'm grateful that it didn't. I'm grateful that little Frida's eczema started to get better after being prescribed a new medication. I'm grateful that things are starting to come together and calm down at home. I am grateful for the promise of more frequent dates with my man and more time alone to do the things that fuel who I'd like to become and be. I am grateful for hot coffee in the morning and hot gifted chai at night. I am grateful for The Talking Heads, David Bowie, and Thomas the Train. I am grateful for farmers. I am grateful for my new phone and my new car. I am grateful for all the people in this world that show so much love even in the face of so much hate.<br />
<br />
I am grateful for my children. I am grateful for my dog. I am grateful for my backyard flock. I am grateful for the farm I'm lucky enough to live on. I'm grateful for the town, for the coast, for the marsh. I am grateful for my husband.<br />
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I am grateful for all the beauty I experience every day and for the times I am lucky enough to capture it.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Frida fluffing and sniffing Grandma Fox's tree.</td></tr>
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We started our Christmas celebrations by finding our tree at <a href="http://www.rsvtrees.com/" target="_blank">Rancho Siempre Verde</a> just down the coast from us. They grow several different varieties all mixed together and provide marshmallows for roasting as well as a wreath-making station, tree swings, tractor rides, and some amazingly huge xylophones. This year we went as traditional as we ever have by chopping down a 10-foot Douglas fir, though we went for a sparse tree that really brought the feel of the imperfect perfect woods indoors. Though it was a freezing day with rain coming down like mad, we enjoyed the time with Birch's family and the fresh air we love so much here on the coast.<br />
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As Christmas drew near, we took the kids on a super-secret Christmas Adventure Mission down south to Santa Cruz where we rode the special Thomas Train! Keats and Frida both spotted Father Christmas, though both were more mystified and confused than excited. To his credit, he was very casual and didn't force them into anything. He just sat down next to them, gave them each a gift, posed for a photo, then moved on. Keats really enjoyed playing with the train tables and stamps. The rest of the planned activities were a bit much for him so we headed inside away from the freezing rain and wind to play in the arcade. Keats was most infatuated with the claw machine and the popcorn game. Frida was happy to play with all the prizes and Birch was a little too excited to finally claim the stegosaurus as his own. I was excited to find my favorite arcade game: Rampage! In the end, we were glad and ready to leave, but it was fun and a great time for Keats. <br />
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As we left, we discovered that Pescadero was flooding. We rushed home, packed up our things for the second time, put up the furniture as high as we could, and headed to a lovely cabin provided by our landlords to wait out the storm. The next morning, we were very happy to discover our home dry and the water already receding back. Though the water had reached higher than the previous flood earlier in the month, we still made it through and were able to celebrate Christmas Eve and Day at home as planned with all our decorations, our treats, and our beautiful tree. </div>
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We watched Charlie Brown's Christmas and A Christmas Story on Christmas Eve and put Keats to bed. For the first time in three weeks, Keats slept all night in his own bed, knowing that Father Christmas wouldn't come if he didn't sleep in his bed all by himself all night long. (A little deception that was extremely useful. He slept three nights in a row all by himself.) Birch and I prepared for Christmas morning and fell asleep.<br />
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Nothing quite prepared Birch and I for the bliss of Christmas morning. Since our bedroom was still in uproar since the flood, we slept on a spare mattress in the living room, under the tree. Waking up snuggled amidst our warm, flannel covers and sheets set us up for a lovely morning. Frida woke up first and we played trains as quietly as we could. Keats slept in (!) and came out dazed and with a bit of a cold around eight-thirty. It took a bit to remind him that it was Christmas morning, but once it was clear, we opened presents all sitting on our snuggly bed. Keats most loved his Thomas engine and new underwear (here's to that enthusiasm lasting into potty-training). Frida was infatuated with her Schleich Guernsey cow family. As usual, Birch insisted on no presents from me this year (because I'm his present... wa-waa), so I got him a new can opener which he LOVED (he's owned the one we were using since college). I left Birch a not-so-subtle hint of an open shopping cart on his desktop and he bought me a beautiful top from Anthropologie that I'm obsessed with. It is so comfortable and the fit is lovely. I'm considering spending my Christmas money on a couple more in different prints. I need to build my wardrobe... badly. <br />
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Our Christmas continued with both sets of grandparents and we received even more goodies. Keats and Frida made out like bandits! The two family Christmases are so different from each other, it's nice. On one side, Chinese food take-out, minimal gifts, and lots of serious discussion and laughter. On the other, a homemade banquet, a plethora of thoughtful gifts, and lots of chaotic expressions of love and laughter. I love Christmas and the transition it has made in my life since my own childhood to now. I am grateful for my family and how our relationship keeps evolving as the years pass.<br />
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With four full days of Christmas under our belts, on arriving back home, I immediately set to rearranging the kids' room to accommodate all the new things. We're putting together boxes of purged toys and things to donate/toss depending on their state of awesomeness. I am so grateful for the generosity of both of our families. Every year is so lovely (and emotional; I broke down a couple times in the arms of my relatives). <br />
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So here is to a brand new year with renewed energy and patience. I hope to include lots of trips to delicious bakeries, more trips to fun places, more laughing, and far more gentleness and peace. I hope I can master myself once again and become the mother, wife, friend, daughter, and sister I hope to be. I hope to understand more and to be better understood. I wish for the world to calm down, take stock, and be grateful for what it has and strive harder to make itself a better place to live. I hope to hear more stories of love, peace, and understanding. I hope to be an instrument in the betterment of our world. It is a beautiful place, let's make it even more so.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03864644130589471669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3222454336060895563.post-1807695863978692992012-11-18T11:26:00.001-08:002012-11-22T10:58:58.310-08:00Learning and Living on the Farm<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We've been going out every chance we've been given. The weather is off and on raining and we're gearing up for flood season. The farm gets mucky but Keats loves to play in all the puddles, even the foot-deep ones. He stands in the middle with the water up to his waist peering in at all the leaves, swaying grasses, and bugs he can find. It's no wonder that Frida's first words were, "What's that?" as it is one of her older brother's favorite phrases as he explores the world around him. Both of my little ones are so adventurous and curious about everything they see and hear. It's this fascination with all things new that make having kids so much fun. As adults, we often forget the novelty and wonder in so many of the objects and happenings around us. A water strider swishing its way across the surface of a puddle, to Keats, is like finding the ultimate treasure. He invariably comes back from this outings cold and soaked, in dire need of a warm bath and perhaps a small cup of hot cider, too, or his very favorite: "a special, warm drink" which is merely milk, hot water, and a miniscule amount of raw honey. He loves to sip this sitting on the porch while Birch and I hang up his dinosaur raincoat and undress Frida.</div>
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Our dry, sunny walks around the farm are full of new life as well. Several litters of piglets have been born the last two months, either Large Blacks or Large Black crosses. The Large Black is a heritage breed and fairly rare in the United States. It is prized for its docile nature and mothering skills. They do extremely well on pastures and grow up to about seven hundred pounds (females). A mature boar can be about eight hundred pounds. The farm started off with two piglets raised them to be the wonderful mothers they are. The owners of the farm then acquired two boars from up north and started the breeding process. True to country style, they've taken in several various animals from the excess of other farms, including the white sow above. Birch and I are both learning a lot from the farm and our own research. Birch has grown a great affinity for pigs and his tasty adventures in the kitchen have spurred on his hope of becoming a pig farmer and charcutier. The more we discuss this with the owners, the more hope we have in accomplishing this goal. Perhaps they will even be the catalyst we need and hoped for, enlisting Birch in the butchering process, etc. We are so grateful to have friends so willing to pass on their knowledge to us. </div>
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Our chickens and ducks, now numbering twenty-one all together, have had a few trying months with the move, the rain, and a couple of lost "friends." We finally decided to slaughter Shogun, one of our Ameraucauna roosters, as he was continuously attacking Keats (and me) and we felt that we had one too many roosters for our number of hens. Birch took him over to our friends, a couple who started their own pasture-raised poultry farm here in Pescadero, <a href="http://earlybirdranch.com/" target="_blank">Early Bird Ranch</a>, and they showed Birch how to go about the entire process. He ended up slaughtering seventeen chickens that day in exchange for the knowledge, equipment, and opportunity. Sending Shogun off that day was a little rough for me as I felt twangs of guilt, but I reminded myself that this was part of his purpose for us. Why we had raised and fed him each day and taken such great pains to make all our chickens happy and comfortable in their lives. We enjoy eating meat, but we feel very strongly that the meat we eat should exclusively come from animals humanely treated both in life and in death. We are grateful to him for providing us with a bit more experience and ultimately a wonderful meal. I feel myself tip-toeing around that subject, but that <i>is</i> what happened to Shogun and what <i>will </i>happen to many more of our birds, even the ones with names. And that is alright. We didn't buy them as chicks for pets. We purchased them with the goal of daily eggs, occasional meat, and endless entertainment and education.</div>
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Our ducks, it should be noted, are pets. They are Indian Black Runner ducks and are best prized for their pest management, a skill we plan on utilizing in our garden once it is up and running. We have one drake and two hens. We are beginning to be able to tell them apart. The drake is a bit taller, has a green bill, and iridescent foliage all over his body. One of the hens has a greenish-black bill and is all black while the other hen has an all-black bill and several white feathers speckled across her neck and chest. We are still considering names and may purchase two Blue Runner ducklings early next year along with our next crop of chicks. </div>
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We've been to the beach several times a week, sometimes even just for a few moments before sunset, and each time we go we feel refreshed and free from the burden of the day. We've been visiting tidepools more and exploring different beaches up and down the coast from us. Keats is learning all about these new strange creatures that live in the water. We love hearing him say anemone, mussel, sea otter, kelp, and barnacle. He's a master at pointing out starfish, even the ones so cleverly camouflaged that even I almost step on them at times. I have a hard time teaching him to always watch the water, but he's learning it and remembers most times. I'm always on high alert, so for now, I'm watchful enough for us. My own mother told me a story that when I was about two, she actually saved me from an incoming piece of driftwood. She ran up and grabbed me up just in time and was whacked right across her shins. The wood would have surely knocked me down and at the very least could have given me a serious bruise across my chest. That story has stuck with me throughout my life as I know that it could have been much worse than a mere bruise. I know people laugh at our protectiveness sometimes, but I try to give parents the benefit of the doubt when it comes to safety. They know their kids, what they are apt to do or not do in a sketchy situation, where they are lacking and where they are sufficient. We've been asked when we'll let Keats go surfing and my response is always "Not for several more years." We get laughed at for that, but hey, he won't even let me put water over his head in the bathtub. I think swimming and surfing in the ocean is several steps away. For now, we are more than happy to explore the shore.</div>
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Finally, we celebrated Frida's very first birthday with a party.
Her birthday came up so quickly, we could hardly believe it. She is such
a sweet little thing. She is absolutely infatuated with animals and
loves to dance. She is more than generous with hugs and kisses. She
learns things very quickly and is quite adventurous, though she is shy
around a lot of people. She is so different from her brother in so many
ways and I love to watch her playing with him. He tells her about all
the different pictures in books and has taught her the great wonder of
cars and trucks (much to his annoyance, as now she loves to play with
his toys). She follows Keats around like a shadow, but enjoys the hour
or two alone with us before he wakes up and after he goes to bed. One of
these days I'll put my foot down and put her to bed at the same time as
him, but we're still putting together her crib so that's a few days off
yet. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03864644130589471669noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3222454336060895563.post-79768918826326941062012-10-27T14:59:00.003-07:002012-10-27T14:59:53.135-07:00Autumn Reigns<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's been a very long time since my last entry. Summer has ended and the
coast's largest pumpkins have been weighed. Our days are a mix of rain
and breezy sunshine, with the dark of night coming on suddenly and
earlier. The nights are crisp and we see the stars shifting.<br />
<br />
We're settling in at home. The move proving to us, once again, that we'd
like to be without so much cumbersome Stuff. It blocks passageways and
sits untouched for weeks or months. It is passed time to say goodbye to
those things inexplicably held onto as we look at more days inside---cozy
but NOT crowded. Finding the time can be difficult, but that excuse has
outworn its welcome. Time for a Fall cleaning before we drudge in so
many leaves and so much mud and wet that we can no longer judge what's clean and
what's not.<br />
<br />
The kids are growing up, both in their own ways. Keats' imagination has
come out since his older cousin's visit from England. Her near constant
humming and dancing has rubbed off on him and it is so fun to see. He
pretends that his different fingers are various people and places them
gently into his cars to race or to drive to the beach. He gave Frida's
dog stuffie a diaper change this afternoon and has really made some
leaps forward on his fake phone call skills. Frida is walking and has
added a few words to her one-phrase vocabulary that has monopolized her
speech for the few months. Her first word? She didn't have one. She
skipped right on ahead to "What's that?" She has now found that a tad
limiting and has added Olive, Keats, Daddy, Thanks, and Yum-yum.
She still feels that crying and turning bright red is sufficient when
getting MY attention, so Mama/Mommy has not made its debut as of yet.
She is eating most things we give her, most notably, a hunk of smoked
pork freshly sliced from the whole animal at a local BBQ on the farm.
She was sucking and chewing on it the entire duration of the party. It
was fantastic. Sadly, I'm almost sure she's allergic to cow's milk as
she's broken out in hives a couple of times after playing with what
Keats spilled. Both occurrences were outside, however, so I may be
overlooking another common denominator. Birch and I were discussing the
possibilities of goat and sheep butters, concluding that they must be
disgusting or too low in fats. Anyone out there know? Luckily, there are
plenty of vegan alternatives around here and lots of knowledgeable
farmers, too.<br />
<br />
I really do love living here. We still yearn for a small farm of our own
and Birch's meat dreams have graduated to a local charcuterie. I'm
still unsure of my aspirations in life but a shop up for lease has
caught my eye and reignited my desire for a kind of girly paradise shop.
Think a small, local version of Walmart/Target. Ha! That's a somewhat
odd description, but imagine your favorite, quaint little
fill-in-the-blank shops and now smoosh and mix them together into a small
shop you could peruse while visiting a lovely farming town on your way
down the coast. You pick out a picnic blanket, that Schleich cow family
you've been meaning to buy, a few packets of heirloom tomato seeds, and
perhaps handing the kids over to Daddy while you sneak a surprise
lingerie set for next Months' date night. Oh, and of course, you'll make
a note of the mugs, plates, and designer fabrics for your next visit.
Did I mention we have story time and lectures/classes for the local
community? Oh, dreams... I especially like the part where we're open
Thursday through Monday. And so I battle the ever-dueling need to follow
my aspirations and the haunting pressure of Anxiety. In this particular
case, the anxious worry is well-founded as there is so much to hurdle
and tackle. Business plans, loans, child care, lease agreements, and I'm
not even sure what else. It may be too much when viewed along with
Birch's hopes for himself and that opens up a huge can of worms...<br />
<br />
Putting all that aside and firmly in its place, we are settling into
what we are and where we are right now. White-tailed kites and sharp-shinned hawks fly and hover
over the field opposite us as the farmer drives his tractor across,
readying the field for winter planting. The sheep eat the yellowing
leaves from the low willow branches. The chickens have molted and are
fluffing up once again as the nights drop with chill and frost. Apples simmer in a pot on the stove and we're finding fresh grapefruit in our CSA boxes. Birch is making pumpkin green curry again and we're licking our lips at the thought of scratch-chicken soup and white bean stew with pork. We'll see how our new home fairs in the coming months of rain, cold, and flooding. Should be an interesting ride. Let's see if I get any craft time, shall we?<br />
<br />
We are a
family of four renting a home on a farm on the coast.<br />
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