Seems like I can't stop the world long enough to share all the grand thoughts rolling around in my head after that lecture by Wendell Berry. Thoughts about simple solutions that cost more than we can afford, like ethanol. Thoughts about complex solutions that cost more than we can afford NOT to pay. Solutions that will require a whole bunch of us catching the vision and inspiring the younger generation because it is going to take a few generations working awfully hard before we see long term change.
I am thinking about how hard this year has been for us and how comforting it was to hear that we are doing the right thing.
I am thinking about our farmer friends, all working with different talents and gifts and skill sets, step by step healing our little plots of land and our bodies and our spirits. Isn't it amazing that what is good for the forests and our farms and our animals is good for our bodies and minds and spirits and even stretches out to help improve the globe?
I am thinking that going back to go forward is harder than it looks in an essay. We are so challenged by the world to live the other life. The consumer life. Wendell Berry does not give the false illusion that if we merely follow a prescribed formula all will be well. Au contraire. It is easier said than done to "not be conformed to this world but be transformed by the renewing of your mind" (Romans 12:2). But after chatting with friends before and after lecture, sharing their delicious soups made from locally raised turkey and chicken, along with locally made bread, in a cozy little cottage, the boys and I felt like we were living a noble life. A life that is honorable.
We have our work cut out for us. But little changes we make can make a difference. Letting our pastures grow perennials instead of annual grains will help the ecosystem in numerous ways. Laying down manure instead of chemical fertilizers will help the subsoil grow, will encourage insect life, stronger root systems and bit by bit we will grow precious topsoil. Wow.
As we depend more heavily on our customers we grow more appreciative of a local economy and make the effort to buy from friends and neighbors, keeping a bigger proportion of our dollars in the county. One of the things Mr. Berry mentioned was that as farmers moved away from draft horses and toward tractors, they moved to monoculture farming, exporting most of their produce, grains, or whatever out of town and even out of state. With all that exporting, they also ended up exporting their top soil and their sons. Way too costly. He seemed to suggest that we need to first feed our family, our neighbors and our community, then export. That way the economy can support more jobs, feed more people and strengthen infrastructure.
One of Mr. Berry's books is called The Unsettling of America, Culture and Agriculture. It greatly moved and inspired me. At the lecture I picked up a new book, Bringing It to the Table. It is a collection of essays and stories. One can smell the sweat, hear the sound of water splashing by the back door as the men shuffle in to the table. One can see the mounds of biscuits and corn and green beans with steam rising and taste the fruit of the land. Pure. Real. Nourishing.
Just like Mr. Berry's writing.
I was simply going to check into this blog to mention that we got a gully washer. Flash floods poured off the Jefferson National Forest. Pastures, stream and pond are overflowing. Gallons of water race down the valley. I hope they are leaving plenty of nice amendments to the hay field and not washing too many away. The sun came out for a short bit this afternoon. Not long enough to dry all the laundry. We are using the woodstove and fireplace to serve instead. Please give us a warning if you plan on dropping by so I can gather up all the socks and underwear!
Also wanted to mention that we received a marvelous gift last week. The children and I are going to be able to make a trip to Texas to visit my family. We leave this weekend after market. When I realized we could go I cried out loud. The children all acknowledge that it is a miracle. They are ecstatic. We will miss Philip but are so grateful he is willing to work so hard at work then come home and do our chores for us to give us this opportunity. We have an open window. The cows are due to calve end of month or January. Sheep and goats aren't due until February and March. We are going to leap through that open window and head to Grandma and Grandpa's house. A couple of people have told me they were praying for us after reading my sappy pre-Thanksgiving homesick post. Thank you so much. This is the season to be refreshed and restored.
So you got a weather report and a whole lot more. Believe me, there are so many things to talk about in regards to complex solutions to big-time problems and the role of agriculture. We have so much to learn. I hope we will all rise to the occasion. But in order for me to rise in the morning I better hit the sack. Guess I am very far removed from Mr. Berry's world. He doesn't write by artificial light and doesn't even use a typewriter, let alone a computer or a BLOG! Oh well. the sound of the wind is going to lull me to sleep anyway.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Snow!
Drizzle at 6am turned into big flat fluffy snowflakes by 7. The farm is bright white. Driving to the farmer's market this morning was a bit tricky but by 1 this afternoon the roads were clear. Children are sledding. I anticipate their return to the house very shortly. They skipped their grilled cheese sandwiches in order to head to the slopes. It is a very heavy, wet snow. They should be soaked through and chilled to the bone within minutes.
I have so much to write about! Thursday Thomas, Patrick and I attended a lecture at UVA. We heard Wendell Berry speak. However, the laundry is waiting. Must get some chores done. But maybe later I can share some of his nuggets. We drove home in the dark, dark night inspired and affirmed. What a treat.
I have so much to write about! Thursday Thomas, Patrick and I attended a lecture at UVA. We heard Wendell Berry speak. However, the laundry is waiting. Must get some chores done. But maybe later I can share some of his nuggets. We drove home in the dark, dark night inspired and affirmed. What a treat.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Sure Enough
Sure enough, that lunar halo was an accurate predictor. I have seen rings around the moon before, but last night's rainbow was the largest I have ever witnessed. Rain has been falling all day. Steady, cold, relentless, huddle in front of the fire kind of rain. Stay in the barn and eat hay kind of rain. Except for the ducks and the sheep. They didn't seem to mind at all.
I certainly am glad for the firewood harvesting we did the other day. Looks like we will be enjoying the woodstove for a few days.
I certainly am glad for the firewood harvesting we did the other day. Looks like we will be enjoying the woodstove for a few days.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Rainbow
There is a gigantic rainbow ring around the full moon tonight.
The farmer's almanac calls this a lunar halo. It is caused by the refraction, reflection and dispersion of light through ice particles. The rainbow is red on the inside of the ring and blue on the outside. According the the almanac a halo foretells stormy winter weather.
I guess we shall see.
But right now I better get the non-sleeping kids to take a peek. It is too pretty not to share.
The farmer's almanac calls this a lunar halo. It is caused by the refraction, reflection and dispersion of light through ice particles. The rainbow is red on the inside of the ring and blue on the outside. According the the almanac a halo foretells stormy winter weather.
I guess we shall see.
But right now I better get the non-sleeping kids to take a peek. It is too pretty not to share.
Retreat
Living has preempted writing.
Actually, I did some writing over the weekend. The unplugged type.
After an amazing Thanksgiving dinner shared with friends we enjoyed a couple of days with some out of state visiting friends who helped with firewood harvest. We shared meals around candle light and blazing fire. Our family then participated in our first Tacky Tractor Parade with friends over in Bent Mtn. What fun!
The dear Bent Mtn friends have a little cabin tucked up on the side of the mountain, far removed from electricity, running water, phones and computers. Philip gave me the gift of taking care of the kids and the farm and left me, a bag of old journals, paperwork, Bible, novel, notebook, wool socks and picnic basket of provisions to enjoy a silent retreat cozied up to a blazing woodstove.
I had a bit of an agenda. Behind in paperwork and taxes, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to add and subtract, multiply and divide without a big pile of other priorities staring at me. What better place to work than that amazing little jewel up in the woods.
Magnificent trees, tall and straight, surrounded my retreat. Piles of leaves carpeted my walk to outhouse and woodpile. I think I heard a deer once, but other than Spot, the hound dog, I had few animal visitors.
The kettle maintained a constant simmer, perfect for many cups of tea and the most delicious lentil stew I have ever made (if I do say so myself!). I will have to remember to give you the recipe at the end of this post so you can try it.
It was a great retreat. Many odds and ends were taken care of, business tended. Productive. But perhaps the most productive time was spent in quiet reflection. I read some journals from 1997 and 1998. Remembered some very painful periods. Wished I could go back and tell myself it was going to be alright. Smiled as I scanned the yearly garden maps, the wish lists I wrote out each winter as I surveyed the seed catalogs, remembered holiday feasts shared with friends as I perused the scratchy notes scribbling out menus and recipes and ingredient lists. Pain, grief, turmoil, illnesses and accidents and meals and gardens and children learning to read and walk, camping and marveling at nature. I reread the prayers cried out in anguish and despair and the prayers of delight and joy.
I don't know how I managed to write all those years with babies and toddlers. I can't even imagine how I was brave enough to write things I would never wish to share with anyone! Didn't I know that anyone could have picked up those books and have a window that opened up into the scariest most intimate parts of my soul?
What in the world does all this have to do with farming?
I think that taking the time to process and write and journal the good, the bad and the ugly helped make me a stronger person. I believe it was a part of a journey that led to healing and growth. Taking some time to revisit that journey reminded me that we have come along way, baby. Those hard times prepared us for this life. God was there.
It was pretty special to read in one of the journals a conversation I had with my dear friend, the very friend who owns the cabin on the mountain. I wrote that I wanted to be sure and pray for her and her husband. I smiled. Full Circle. Never did I imagine at the time that I would be reading my words sitting on the floor of her cozy little refuge. That we would all be living this life that we are living. Here in Virginia!
Along with moments of introspection, I reviewed farm vision, worked on an updated farm inventory and made lists of tasks I hope to accomplish this winter. With over a dozen ewes hopefully expecting to lamb come February and March, building some new stalls in the upper barn is in order. With two cows expecting to deliver babies this winter, i need to come up with an efficient way to milk those girls in a sanitary place in the barn. I have a feeling that Priscilla is not going to come up to the back door to let me milk her.
The silence ended all too soon. I didn't get to solve all the problems in the world. I didn't even get to solve all the problems on our farm! But Philip and the kids managed without me and I came back home refreshed and ready to get back to work. Driving home on Monday morning, misty grey and damp, the gentle hills gave me a great big hug. Driving through our little valley, my heart ached with gratefulness. Home. More than any other time in my adult life I feel an incredible sense of home. How can I explain? Some of the angst I felt back in those journals was pointing to a need for home. Some of the angst was necessary to put us on the right road to reach our home. Even as I miss my mom and dad, sisters and other relatives right now, the longing is definitely tempered by the sense of home we experience here on the farm. When I opened up the gate at the top of our driveway, the sheep paused in their grazing to give me a stoic nod. Home.
Well, dogs and coyotes are at it again. The moon is very bright. My eyes tell me it is time to head to bed.
But first, my recipe for you. The perfect camp stew, or top of the wood stove stew.
Lentil Chard Stew
Red or green lentils
generous amount of fresh or dried garlic
powdered cumin
curry powder
a few peppercorns
a pinch of mustard seed
a pinch of celery seed
a pinch of coriander
a pinch of cinnamon
plenty of salt
Put the lentils and the other ingredients in a mason jar if you are headed to your own weekend retreat. Once you get the fire rolling, place the lentils and spices in a pot and cover with water. Plenty of water.
Give the stew an occasional stir and watch to make sure your water doesn't boil away. If it does, add more water. The lentils will get nice and mushy. The smell will make you intensely hungry. Don't rush the stew. Slow cooking makes for a very creamy stew.
Once the lentils are creamy, add some chopped chard. Or kale. Or spinach.
I think the earthiness of the chard goes so nicely with the curry flavors. Cook until the chard is tender. Maybe 20 or 30 more minutes. Salt to taste. Make some toast by putting your bread on a cast iron skillet or directly on your wood stove. Enjoy all by yourself or share with a friend. Either way, I think you will love it!
Actually, I did some writing over the weekend. The unplugged type.
After an amazing Thanksgiving dinner shared with friends we enjoyed a couple of days with some out of state visiting friends who helped with firewood harvest. We shared meals around candle light and blazing fire. Our family then participated in our first Tacky Tractor Parade with friends over in Bent Mtn. What fun!
The dear Bent Mtn friends have a little cabin tucked up on the side of the mountain, far removed from electricity, running water, phones and computers. Philip gave me the gift of taking care of the kids and the farm and left me, a bag of old journals, paperwork, Bible, novel, notebook, wool socks and picnic basket of provisions to enjoy a silent retreat cozied up to a blazing woodstove.
I had a bit of an agenda. Behind in paperwork and taxes, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to add and subtract, multiply and divide without a big pile of other priorities staring at me. What better place to work than that amazing little jewel up in the woods.
Magnificent trees, tall and straight, surrounded my retreat. Piles of leaves carpeted my walk to outhouse and woodpile. I think I heard a deer once, but other than Spot, the hound dog, I had few animal visitors.
The kettle maintained a constant simmer, perfect for many cups of tea and the most delicious lentil stew I have ever made (if I do say so myself!). I will have to remember to give you the recipe at the end of this post so you can try it.
It was a great retreat. Many odds and ends were taken care of, business tended. Productive. But perhaps the most productive time was spent in quiet reflection. I read some journals from 1997 and 1998. Remembered some very painful periods. Wished I could go back and tell myself it was going to be alright. Smiled as I scanned the yearly garden maps, the wish lists I wrote out each winter as I surveyed the seed catalogs, remembered holiday feasts shared with friends as I perused the scratchy notes scribbling out menus and recipes and ingredient lists. Pain, grief, turmoil, illnesses and accidents and meals and gardens and children learning to read and walk, camping and marveling at nature. I reread the prayers cried out in anguish and despair and the prayers of delight and joy.
I don't know how I managed to write all those years with babies and toddlers. I can't even imagine how I was brave enough to write things I would never wish to share with anyone! Didn't I know that anyone could have picked up those books and have a window that opened up into the scariest most intimate parts of my soul?
What in the world does all this have to do with farming?
I think that taking the time to process and write and journal the good, the bad and the ugly helped make me a stronger person. I believe it was a part of a journey that led to healing and growth. Taking some time to revisit that journey reminded me that we have come along way, baby. Those hard times prepared us for this life. God was there.
It was pretty special to read in one of the journals a conversation I had with my dear friend, the very friend who owns the cabin on the mountain. I wrote that I wanted to be sure and pray for her and her husband. I smiled. Full Circle. Never did I imagine at the time that I would be reading my words sitting on the floor of her cozy little refuge. That we would all be living this life that we are living. Here in Virginia!
Along with moments of introspection, I reviewed farm vision, worked on an updated farm inventory and made lists of tasks I hope to accomplish this winter. With over a dozen ewes hopefully expecting to lamb come February and March, building some new stalls in the upper barn is in order. With two cows expecting to deliver babies this winter, i need to come up with an efficient way to milk those girls in a sanitary place in the barn. I have a feeling that Priscilla is not going to come up to the back door to let me milk her.
The silence ended all too soon. I didn't get to solve all the problems in the world. I didn't even get to solve all the problems on our farm! But Philip and the kids managed without me and I came back home refreshed and ready to get back to work. Driving home on Monday morning, misty grey and damp, the gentle hills gave me a great big hug. Driving through our little valley, my heart ached with gratefulness. Home. More than any other time in my adult life I feel an incredible sense of home. How can I explain? Some of the angst I felt back in those journals was pointing to a need for home. Some of the angst was necessary to put us on the right road to reach our home. Even as I miss my mom and dad, sisters and other relatives right now, the longing is definitely tempered by the sense of home we experience here on the farm. When I opened up the gate at the top of our driveway, the sheep paused in their grazing to give me a stoic nod. Home.
Well, dogs and coyotes are at it again. The moon is very bright. My eyes tell me it is time to head to bed.
But first, my recipe for you. The perfect camp stew, or top of the wood stove stew.
Lentil Chard Stew
Red or green lentils
generous amount of fresh or dried garlic
powdered cumin
curry powder
a few peppercorns
a pinch of mustard seed
a pinch of celery seed
a pinch of coriander
a pinch of cinnamon
plenty of salt
Put the lentils and the other ingredients in a mason jar if you are headed to your own weekend retreat. Once you get the fire rolling, place the lentils and spices in a pot and cover with water. Plenty of water.
Give the stew an occasional stir and watch to make sure your water doesn't boil away. If it does, add more water. The lentils will get nice and mushy. The smell will make you intensely hungry. Don't rush the stew. Slow cooking makes for a very creamy stew.
Once the lentils are creamy, add some chopped chard. Or kale. Or spinach.
I think the earthiness of the chard goes so nicely with the curry flavors. Cook until the chard is tender. Maybe 20 or 30 more minutes. Salt to taste. Make some toast by putting your bread on a cast iron skillet or directly on your wood stove. Enjoy all by yourself or share with a friend. Either way, I think you will love it!
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Happy Holly Days!
Homemade mayo tossed with smoked trout, lemon juice and capers spread on toasted seedy loaf.
Pan-seared venison loin with vermouth and cream sauce.
Swiss chard carmelized with garlic, olive oil, raisins, hazelnuts and balsamic vinegar.
Buttered spaghetti squash with loads of butter, salt and pepper.
Cheap, but not too cheap Cotes de Rhone.
Hugs. Shared tears over sorrows. Talk of story, literature, food. Memories. Coffee drinking. Deer butchering. Turkey butchering. Pumpkin pureeing. Errand running. Time to say goodbye before we are ready. Thankful for friends like Holly.
Pan-seared venison loin with vermouth and cream sauce.
Swiss chard carmelized with garlic, olive oil, raisins, hazelnuts and balsamic vinegar.
Buttered spaghetti squash with loads of butter, salt and pepper.
Cheap, but not too cheap Cotes de Rhone.
Hugs. Shared tears over sorrows. Talk of story, literature, food. Memories. Coffee drinking. Deer butchering. Turkey butchering. Pumpkin pureeing. Errand running. Time to say goodbye before we are ready. Thankful for friends like Holly.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Sunday Afternoons
I love Sunday afternoons, even on days we don't have Sunday dinner. This morning we had an all-church brunch, so I told the kids that counted for lunch. I imagine they are very hungry, but it was nice to take a break from cooking. We made a big pan of bread pudding with cream, butter, eggs, cinnamon, maple syrup and wineberries. It was yummy.
Things are looking very Novembery around here. I love the grays and browns and wheat colored frost-bitten grass. There was a heavy frost this morning but that didn't stop the ducks from taking their morning constitutional swim. The turtles must be hibernating in the mud.
This afternoon we did some cleanup chores before Philip and the kids headed back into town for youth group activities. That gave me the freedom to turn up my favorite tunes, sweep floors, fold clothes and drink green tea. I lit a fire in the fireplace and woodstove to take off the chill.
Holly is coming for a quick holiday visit. What a treat for us. She is coming in perfect timing! A neighbor brought over a deer so tomorrow the boys will skin it and I imagine Holly will help me process it. Tuesday is turkey processing day. No matter how busy we are, with Holly around I can always count on good food coming out of the kitchen. Maybe she will make pie crusts with the girls...
Better go enjoy a few moments of peace in front of the fireplace before everyone gets home.
Things are looking very Novembery around here. I love the grays and browns and wheat colored frost-bitten grass. There was a heavy frost this morning but that didn't stop the ducks from taking their morning constitutional swim. The turtles must be hibernating in the mud.
This afternoon we did some cleanup chores before Philip and the kids headed back into town for youth group activities. That gave me the freedom to turn up my favorite tunes, sweep floors, fold clothes and drink green tea. I lit a fire in the fireplace and woodstove to take off the chill.
Holly is coming for a quick holiday visit. What a treat for us. She is coming in perfect timing! A neighbor brought over a deer so tomorrow the boys will skin it and I imagine Holly will help me process it. Tuesday is turkey processing day. No matter how busy we are, with Holly around I can always count on good food coming out of the kitchen. Maybe she will make pie crusts with the girls...
Better go enjoy a few moments of peace in front of the fireplace before everyone gets home.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
One of the Costs of Farming
I love Virginia. I love our farm.
I hope we can live here for ever and ever and ever, amen.
All that said, as I spent a few moments yesterday afternoon in the middle of my busy day sitting out on the deck with the little girls, I tried to figure out why I felt so sad. I was discombobulated by minor annoyances, but there was something that seemed to cut just a little bit deeper.
Guess it hit me that I am very very homesick right now.
Full Circle Farm is our home and when I am away I feel an ache, so it isn't like I am unhappy. But it has been a very long time since our family has had the opportunity to go to Texas to visit. I suppose it was three years ago Thanksgiving that the kids and I last went together. Three years ago Nora was three. Thomas was thirteen. Patrick was ten. Maggie was nine. Rose was six.
I have been aching to sit on the deck of my parents' house and soak in the dry arid air. Look at the scrubby mesquite trees and cactus and live oaks and let Mom and Daddy cook for us. Go see my sister and nephew in Austin and eat Texican food. Listen to familiar old accents. Take the kids around and show them where I grew up. Show them where they were born. Let them see the expanse of it all.
One of these days we will get down there. I am not worried about it. But there is an ache.
If you wish to farm full time and raise your meat and dairy, it is important to count the costs. There are only so many days one can be away from all those animals. It is quite hard for the entire family to be away from the farm for more than a day or so because of all the varied chores that must be done. Trips have to be quick snatches, a couple of people at a time.
Would I change our life? Trade the milking, the midnight hay hauling, the weed pulling, the chicken butchering for the freedom to travel anytime I wanted?
Not on your life.
This is right where I want to be.
But holiday time is when I start to feel a little bit teary. So, pardon my sentimental homesick blues. I miss my family!
All that said, let me tell you, I count my blessings to have met so many wonderful friends here in our community. We do have a family network that pulls together and treats us dearly. Don't think I could manage if we didn't. So grateful for our friends and loved ones here in the valley who make us happy to live here and hopeful to never leave. And grateful for the sound of the stream, the breeze in the trees, the creaky old house, the cozy chattering of the turkeys and other farm animals whose evening murmurings tuck me in at night.
So hopefully, before too many moons pass, I hope you will be reading a blog all about our visit to the Lone Star state! In the meantime, I will continue to count my blessings.
I hope we can live here for ever and ever and ever, amen.
All that said, as I spent a few moments yesterday afternoon in the middle of my busy day sitting out on the deck with the little girls, I tried to figure out why I felt so sad. I was discombobulated by minor annoyances, but there was something that seemed to cut just a little bit deeper.
Guess it hit me that I am very very homesick right now.
Full Circle Farm is our home and when I am away I feel an ache, so it isn't like I am unhappy. But it has been a very long time since our family has had the opportunity to go to Texas to visit. I suppose it was three years ago Thanksgiving that the kids and I last went together. Three years ago Nora was three. Thomas was thirteen. Patrick was ten. Maggie was nine. Rose was six.
I have been aching to sit on the deck of my parents' house and soak in the dry arid air. Look at the scrubby mesquite trees and cactus and live oaks and let Mom and Daddy cook for us. Go see my sister and nephew in Austin and eat Texican food. Listen to familiar old accents. Take the kids around and show them where I grew up. Show them where they were born. Let them see the expanse of it all.
One of these days we will get down there. I am not worried about it. But there is an ache.
If you wish to farm full time and raise your meat and dairy, it is important to count the costs. There are only so many days one can be away from all those animals. It is quite hard for the entire family to be away from the farm for more than a day or so because of all the varied chores that must be done. Trips have to be quick snatches, a couple of people at a time.
Would I change our life? Trade the milking, the midnight hay hauling, the weed pulling, the chicken butchering for the freedom to travel anytime I wanted?
Not on your life.
This is right where I want to be.
But holiday time is when I start to feel a little bit teary. So, pardon my sentimental homesick blues. I miss my family!
All that said, let me tell you, I count my blessings to have met so many wonderful friends here in our community. We do have a family network that pulls together and treats us dearly. Don't think I could manage if we didn't. So grateful for our friends and loved ones here in the valley who make us happy to live here and hopeful to never leave. And grateful for the sound of the stream, the breeze in the trees, the creaky old house, the cozy chattering of the turkeys and other farm animals whose evening murmurings tuck me in at night.
So hopefully, before too many moons pass, I hope you will be reading a blog all about our visit to the Lone Star state! In the meantime, I will continue to count my blessings.
Friday, November 20, 2009
This Day Does Not Match My Mood
It is a gorgeous day today. When I arose at 3 something this morning I peeked out the window. The sky truly did look like a length of dark blue velvet scattered with diamonds. A brisk breeze kicked up, promising to kick the rain out. It worked.
Work started out fine, but some paperwork and phone calls have gotten me completely discombobulated. I feel like giving up. Grrr. I think I am rebelling. The sunshine and warm is telling me that it is morally wrong to be stuck in the house trying to bake and do miserable paperwork and deal with annoying phone calls. Not that I hate phone calls, just annoyed by unnecessary ones.
I am pausing to clear my head and figure out what is absolutely necessary to accomplish today. I have such high expectations of myself in regards to productivity sometimes. Perhaps I need to be still, have a cup of coffee in the sunshine, encourage the kids to take a 30 minute break with me and share a chapter in the book we are reading out loud. Maybe we will get refocused and reenergized after a little recreation.
BTW, I think the forsythia bush is confused. There are a few blossoms coming out on its bare twiggy arms. What? Did someone not get the message that spring won't be here for many many months? Maybe she is an overachiever??? Just listen to me, Forsythia, it is TIME. Give it a rest. You will be much more energized come springtime, but for now, how about a nap.
Work started out fine, but some paperwork and phone calls have gotten me completely discombobulated. I feel like giving up. Grrr. I think I am rebelling. The sunshine and warm is telling me that it is morally wrong to be stuck in the house trying to bake and do miserable paperwork and deal with annoying phone calls. Not that I hate phone calls, just annoyed by unnecessary ones.
I am pausing to clear my head and figure out what is absolutely necessary to accomplish today. I have such high expectations of myself in regards to productivity sometimes. Perhaps I need to be still, have a cup of coffee in the sunshine, encourage the kids to take a 30 minute break with me and share a chapter in the book we are reading out loud. Maybe we will get refocused and reenergized after a little recreation.
BTW, I think the forsythia bush is confused. There are a few blossoms coming out on its bare twiggy arms. What? Did someone not get the message that spring won't be here for many many months? Maybe she is an overachiever??? Just listen to me, Forsythia, it is TIME. Give it a rest. You will be much more energized come springtime, but for now, how about a nap.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Fall is fleeting.
I am certainly glad we took advantage of the sunshine the other days. Gray has set in with a vengeance. It feels like snow, even though it is too warm and no snow is in the forecast. The golden willow leaves reluctantly let go and let themselves be carried off in the breeze. The rest of the trees figured out days and weeks ago that it was futile to try to hold on.
This morning I enjoyed the carefully choreographed dance of the ducks on the pond. Brown rouens and white pekins formed a circle, bobbing and dipping, stretching their glorious wings. I was quite entertained.
We enjoyed our homeschool coop today. At one moment I saw Rose and Sophie running in the field holding almost 3 yr old Mec by the hands. They were smiling and free. I love homeschooling. We decided that next week for coop we will cover biology. The kids will come join us as we butcher some turkeys and roosters. That should be an interesting lesson!
It is just 5 o clock, the rooster is simmering, butternut squash awaits braising, and broccoli awaits steaming. It is almost dark. Kids are reading books, practicing piano and singing with their cassette player. I believe Thomas is working on a sword he is carving out of wood. A moment of peace before we jump into the frantic get ready for the Bible study ladies pace!
This morning I enjoyed the carefully choreographed dance of the ducks on the pond. Brown rouens and white pekins formed a circle, bobbing and dipping, stretching their glorious wings. I was quite entertained.
We enjoyed our homeschool coop today. At one moment I saw Rose and Sophie running in the field holding almost 3 yr old Mec by the hands. They were smiling and free. I love homeschooling. We decided that next week for coop we will cover biology. The kids will come join us as we butcher some turkeys and roosters. That should be an interesting lesson!
It is just 5 o clock, the rooster is simmering, butternut squash awaits braising, and broccoli awaits steaming. It is almost dark. Kids are reading books, practicing piano and singing with their cassette player. I believe Thomas is working on a sword he is carving out of wood. A moment of peace before we jump into the frantic get ready for the Bible study ladies pace!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)