"There are so many things about this life I would like to pass on to my children – the people, the warmth…. but not the hardships."
"I don't think you can have one without the other."
"That is my grief."
– Emma Timmins to Alf, Larkrise to Candleford
Category Archives: Big Thoughts
bearing fruit
Those tomatoes. I mentioned them a bit disdainfully not long ago. They had gotten the best I could offer them – new large pots, rich compost, and marigolds to ward off insects. We watered but took care not to flood them. When we noticed the path of the sun had changed we moved the pots across the garden. Long leggy vines shot out of the pots, defying all attempts to brace and train. Frankly it became an embarassingly gangly mess, but there were tiny green tomatoes clinging to those unruly limbs so it seemed wrong to abandon the effort, hopeless as it had started to appear.
I just wandered by the back garden, noting the weeds creeping among the perennials. There is much work to be done that rather snuck up on me. But while assessing those weeds I noticed something else. The tomatoes have begun to ripen. The first thing that became apparent was that they were most definitely not the sort I was expecting. The starter plants had come with labels describing the varieties we had chosen and I had kept those tucked into the pots to reference. What was growing were not beefsteaks in the least, not even a Roma. Turns out we have several different varieties of cherry tomatoes, some oblong, some round, all unbelievably sweet.
Not the harvest we expected. Certainly not as neat and tidy a process as I envisioned.
And yet, we are bearing sweet fruit.
being happy
work, rest, nature, books…
“A quiet secluded life in the country, with the possibility of being useful to people to whom it is easy to do good, and who are not accustomed to have it done to them; then work which one hopes may be of some use; then rest, nature, books, music, love for one's neighbor — such is my idea of happiness.”
– Leo Tolstoy
And such makes up my days.
The little girls had a lovely and long awaited playdate yesterday. We made peppermint playdough mostly because it was the only extract I had on hand. There were a lot of giggles. It occurred to me today there are always a lot of giggles around here though. Those girls of ours are giggly. They find each other endlessly entertaining.
There has been some Tolstoy, too with one of my teens who handed me the essay as I headed upstairs last night and wrote, "What kind of ending is THAT????" on the bottom of it and let's talk about it tomorrow. So we did. We also talked about the value of curriculum that asked one to analyze and interpret versus filling in the blanks. I did more of the talking on that one. One of those you'll thank us later sorta things. <g>
The kitchen cabinets are now nearly completely reorganized. I could use a little more infastructure but am trying my best with temporary and removable wire shelves and dividers since this is not my house. It has made such a difference already.
The dresser drawers are being reworked too. The little boys have purged theirs back down to what can comfortably fit inside. I bagged the extras but kept them close by to replace those which will be inevitably lost to knee blowouts and such.
Husband is reading Willie Robertson's memoir aloud to me and the boys. Duck Dynasty maybe doesn't belong in the same post as Tolstoy. It actually does happen like this at our house though.
I bought more scrapbooking supplies. Only noteworthy because I have not actually scrapbooked by hand since we lived on the ranch. (read: probably four years) Please don't ask me how often I have purchased scrapbooking suuplies in the interim. Prints are being ordered to rectify that. I think photo books would be easier, or possibly just cheaper, but there is a great deal to be said for dimensionality and handling prints versus keyboards and….. plastic covers over the pages.
How's that for stream of consciousness blogging?
everyday blessings
“As the years pass, I am coming more and more to understand that it is the common, everyday blessings of our common everyday lives for which we should be particularly grateful. They are the things that fill our lives with comfort and our hearts with gladness — just the pure air to breathe and the strength to breathe it; just warmth and shelter and home folks; just plain food that gives us strength; the bright sunshine on a cold day; and a cool breeze when the day is warm.”
– Laura Ingalls Wilder, Writings to Young Women from Laura Ingalls Wilder
High Country Adventure, Considered
One of the very best days last month was spent hiking in the Lake District, even if it didn't go quite as planned. Maybe, because it didn't go quite as planned. Our best trips usually deviate pretty widely from the intended course. We walk our way through the different parts of the world to which we travel. Usually, when we read the guides, we choose the longer more challenging more scenic routes listed. This day was no exception. The first portion of the hike was very easy and well marked, a typical sight-seeing pedestrian path. We found the extension trail connecting to this one and began our climb. Up. And upandupandup.
We've done this before and fortunately our kids are part mountain goat and never complain. At some point the well marked trail became less well marked. The guide mentioned that might happen so we pressed on. And up. The view from the top was incredible which was good because there were moments I thought it might be the last thing I saw before I died. ; )
We ate lunch at the top. At that point we just gave up the trail and followed the creek back down. We saw a meadow of cotton grass though we didn't realize what it was until we could check the internet. We met a lone sheep. We watched a helicopter rise from the valley below and eventually fly right past us.
We were so proud of those littles for their gusto and good humor we stopped at a cafe and got ice cream after.
It was a phenomenal day. I was thinking about that after we got back home. It was simply a PHENOMENAL day. But, I realize some people wouldn't have seen it that way. I guess another way of looking at it was we got lost, we had a killer climb, the creekbed turned out to be a bog – which we also didn't figure out til we got to the internet ; D We tied the little dogs to the outdoor tables while we sat and had ice cream. Littlest dog's lead loosened up and he happily jogged through the restaurant with my husband chasing after. We are still laughing over that one, but I realize not everyone would be laughing.
So, you can decide if this is a charmed life. Maybe the point is that you can decide if your life is charmed or not. My dear friend's signature box says it this way:
"An inconvenience is only an adventure wrongly considered; an adventure is
an inconvenience rightly considered."
– G.K. Chesterton
The choice is yours. It is a happy woman who takes that counsel to heart and discovers that, instead of one trial after another, her life is never boring. No two days are quite the same. No, instead of the monotony of complete control and predictability she is blessed with a life full of adventure.
If you want to see the world from that vantage point, you have to push through the climb.
Summer reading – family style
"…she
discovered that I was literate and looked at me with more than faint distaste. Miss
Caroline told me to tell my father not to teach me any more, it would interfere with my
reading.
“Ma’am?”
“Your father does not know how to teach. You can have a seat now.”
I mumbled that I was sorry and retired meditating upon my crime. I never deliberately learned to read, but somehow I had been wallowing illicitly in the daily papers. In the
long hours of church—was it then I learned? I could not remember not being able to
read hymns. Now that I was compelled to think about it, reading was something that just
came to me, as learning to fasten the seat of my union suit without looking around, or
achieving two bows from a snarl of shoelaces. I could not remember when the lines above Atticus’s moving finger separated into words, but I had stared at them all the
evenings in my memory, listening to the news of the day, Bills to Be Enacted into Laws,
the diaries of Lorenzo Dow—anything Atticus happened to be reading when I crawled
into his lap every night. Until I feared I would lose it, I never loved to read. One does not
love breathing."
Summer reading for the older (teen +) crowd courtesy of Asher who has organized those who have not yet read To Kill a Mockingbird to do so. He has Farenheit 451 scheduled after. We sent him the first of Michael O'Brien's Children of the Last Days novels. The younger set has now seen Odysseus safely home and we are choosing our next lunch time read aloud.
I have never really had the time nor energy to join a book club. That's ok though. One sprang up right under my nose. Just as naturally as breathing. : ) It's been a blessing of later motherhood. There were many earlier years when I was too tired from daily work to dig into classic novels. So, just letting you know, if you find yourself there, that fog does clear. I am taking time daily to turn off screens and vacuums both and continue my own classical education.
There is always another great book to read. Now, there are whole bunch of people handy to discuss them.
just living is not enough
summer in a bottle
I keep thinking I am going to write down some of the thoughts that have wafted past lately. These summer days have been medititave and largely spent outdoors. There are books strewn on the garden table and bikes on the lawn. Sticks are collected in a bag for the fire. Meals are taken open air. Far from the computer. So the big thoughts rest gently on mind where I mull and consider. I tap out one or two on my silly little phone to my boys so far away. Then, these moments float away before there is time to commit any more of them to writing.
Maybe that is best.
I am learning to embrace 'fleeting.'
(some bubble books and recipes if you're so inclined)
Starry Sky Journal 