2011 was, for me, completely packed with changes. New: state, job, house, plot of soil, goals, community, school, and the minute details that are involved in each. It was very ebb and flow; for example, a long and lazy Summer, deeply experienced and meditatively approached, was followed up quickly by a fast-paced Fall with a vigorous work schedule and the re-awakening of driven choices.

One major choice was that of returning to further my education. As I wrote about recently, my first choice was giving me pause and I stopped to listen to that pause. I listened long enough to hear a gentle nudge in another direction, and discovered a Waldorf Teacher Training program in Wisconsin that partners with a local accredited college to allow students to also receive federal funding for most of the courses as well as eligibility towards a Masters in Education with Waldorf Emphasis. Being “only” 8 hours away, this solution was gloriously ideal.

I applied to the schools (the training institute and the college) and found out that Foundation Studies begin in 3 weeks! My head was spinning a bit, trying to merge all the logistical details into one semi-organized spot in my brain before brainstorming ways in which it could work for me to start on such short notice. Armed with the strength of hope, I got passed my fears and uncertainty about asking for help and sent out a “campaign” of sorts to raise the funds by taking pre-orders on my handmade goods through the Fall. Within 2 days I had enough orders to pay the registration fee, and within a week a few other generous donations towards other logistical costs (car rental, gas, food, babysitter, books). I was at once humbled and enthralled! The support of my community, both financial as well as emotional/spiritual, was opening a door for me that seems improbable if not impossible a year ago.

Next Friday night I will be sleeping (hopefully!) in a dorm in Milwaukee, having begun the first course that evening in my Waldorf teacher training. To say that I am overwhelmed would end 2011 with the understatement of the year!

The course itself, guided by the texts How to Know Higher Worlds (Steiner) and Meditation as Contemplative Inquiry (Zajonc), is definitely right up my alley and a part of my life that greatly needs more focus to bring my whole self into balance. To slow down and live consciously and mindfully has rarely been my strong point. My will and ambition often bites off a bit more than I can chew, and my fear of failing other people too often drives me to complete whatever I’ve set out to do — even when my health, home, and family are the sacrifice. If I am to become a teacher within a Waldorf model, then this is a wonderful place for me to begin — at perhaps my greatest personal struggle.

I have been repeating a Steiner verse to myself and to the kids often these last few weeks. I gravitate to the very thing I find so hard to do at times: find my Inner Quiet, my Silent Self… Christ in me.

Quiet I bear within me,
I bear within myself,
forces to make me strong.
Now will I be imbued with
their glowing warmth,
Now will I fill myself with
my own will’s resolve.
And I will feel the quiet
pouring through my being,
When by my steadfast striving
I become strong,
To find within myself
the source of strength,
The strength of Inner Quiet.
–Rudolf Steiner

2012 will quickly find me GOING – off to start this next adventure, trying not to be insanely worried about my kids back home! (aahhhhhh!) But my intention for the next year is not to be GOING so much. I want to become more of a human being, and less of a human doing. I want to have more time to notice what is right in front of me: when my garden needs water, or my kids’ need some cuddling, or my kombucha needs to be fed, or my sister needs a phone call, … or my body needs to rest.

Simply put, my sole New Year’s resolve is to better live in the present.

Happy New Year, friends.

I’ve been a stranger to this space and coming back always feels a bit like trying on my skinny jeans when they are starchy and cold from the closet. Will I still fit?

{update}

We have crowded around the table in our little kitchen and shared a grateful meal; grain-free (on GAPS diet currently) and full of love.

Our advent tree has been selected, sawed down by the family who will adorn it with handmade items. Our resident 2.5 year old likes to stand by it and sing, “O tithmas teeee, O tithmas teee!”

Holiday craft/bake sale school fundraiser has been miraculously pulled off without a hitch.


(I made the Indian girl in the foreground, as well as the wool felted red-head in the pink dress holding flowers, and a few scattered items; Jack Frost and Father Christmas dolls, felted wool and knitted ornaments, etc. The handwork group/crafting time this season has been incredibly sweet to my soul. The sale for the school went really well – a major blessing.)

We’ve done our first of the annual “Living Windows” holiday event downtown. Here’s the Robot Family Christmas scene in the window of Poppies:

Lanterns have been walked. Martinmas and St. Nicholas Day has been celebrated.

Chris has a new job! He is enjoying his new gig as grocery manager at Natural Grocers very much, though the bakery crew and customers still hold a special place in his heart.

Ethan is missing a front tooth.

Mr. Merton Pfeffernusse has gotten a haircut.

Christmas carols are being sung; Favorite, curl-up-under-the-blanket holiday tales are being told; festive teas and lots of homemade raw eggnog are being consumed. Indoor games of mancala, go fish, tic-tac-toe, hide-n-seek, explore-with-flashlights, and tent building are happening, with a hearty dose of outdoor play mixed in — until Jack Frost frightens them back inside.

And I, dear friends, am very busy at present with all this and so much more. So this space of words and thoughts and images — it feels too crowded to me at times. My gut tells me to stay away for awhile, to let the moments when I might otherwise come to this blog pass over me in quiet rest – in the sacred doing of nothing.

Warmest blessings to you this advent season… may you find moments where you have nothing to do but be.

mama.

Has been a busy Summer in ways, not really so much with a packed schedule but in terms of keeping up with everyday life. My garden turned in for the season after battling draught and heat waves and chicken nibblings, so there’s been little to no harvesting this year save 6 small jars of blueberry plum jam. Ah well, that’s okay.

The highlights of the last few weeks have mainly centered around the ending of Summer and beginning of Ethan being enrolled in the 3-morning/week Waldorf kindergarten here. Lots to do before school starts, and when they say it will require community involvement they mean it! From parent work days (painting, polishing, scrubbing, you name it) of the school house and gardens, to home visits (yep – the teachers care enough to visit the children’s homes before the school year starts), as well as a (voluntary, of course) parent/teacher workshop this past weekend. Up this week is a “kindergarten evening” and a “family potluck” School for him begins next Wednesday. Agh!

Suffice it to say, I’m a bit immersed in this world right now. It is difficult for me to articulate just how much inner transformation has happened for me since I moved here, and especially this Summer. Having the TV/movies off the majority of the Summer has been incredible, and has created so much more time for meaningful books and yoga and a prayer life and time outdoors. I have really strengthened my will, my resolve, to tackle things in my lifestyle to reflect a more mindful and conscious approach to every day life. Rather than lofty goals and dreams for each day, I may simply get my bed made, make meals for the kids and I, read a book, knit for ten minutes, keep up the dishes, etc. These tasks in discipline are often more than enough to keep me busy as well as balanced, and leave me more open to observation of the kids and the needs of the family around me. I think the task of a homemaker really is one of balance and harmony, which is so hard when in my selfishness I would rather spend the day doing things I enjoy as an individual and just sort of treat myself to whatever I fancy doing. The kids bring me back to reality: boy, I really want to sit down and paint for an hour — oh, yeah, I need to wipe Verity’s butt. I’m learning, (really, I am!), to accept this and appreciate it for all of the wonderful lessons such a life brings me. I know the mothering of little ones is not forever, and at this time my highest calling is to be present to this home – most importantly its inhabitants- by creating a soulful, flexible, unhurried, creative, nurturing space for us to flourish. Not easy, but so worth the effort. And so much comes not in technique or knowledge or talents, but in simply doing the “inner work”; growing into the person whose light and love permeates whatever is around them. A lifetime’s journey!

The weather here in Columbia has improved quite a bit, with a few days of sweet reprieve here and there where highs are in the 70’s and 80’s (instead of 100’s). I have enjoyed the transitional phase into Autumn and look forward to Fall — HOWEVER, I feel this year that I have no sense of restless anticipation coupled with discontent and fatigue over the previous season. Rather, I feel I lived deeply into this Summer. I did a lot of hiking and lazy days at the park in the creek and ponds; I caught a lot of bugs (vicariously through Ethan!), ate a lot of Summer fruit, really let it all sink in and be experienced with gratitude. I felt myself submerged in water, felt hot sand and rocks on my feet, got a great tan on my shoulders, and wore out my flipflops. After the Sensory Delight of Summer I feel satisfied and calmly ready for the seasons change around the corner.

We head to Fayetteville for Labor Day weekend – we can’t wait to drive up that long gravel driveway to my aunts house and sleep in the dark, absolute quiet of her country house (so opposite our inner city house, with the constant cars, fire engines, and dogs barking, lol). Will be so good to visit with sweet friends and family before returning home to officially begin the school year.

Sorry no pictures in a while – it is so easy to leave the camera behind when trying to conscientiously live in the moment with two young children. I’m sure I’ll find a muse someday soon and pick up the ol’ Nikon again

I plan to be back this week with some insights from the parent/teacher conference last weekend – if I can even mentally and emotionally unpack it enough to share here. We’ll see…

Until next time, enjoy your Summer ending- live it to the fullest!

To begin with,… Ethan turned 6 a few weeks ago!

::Here are some other Summer highlights::

The Summer nature table. (I need felted a sun and sun fairies with wool and hung them with a kool-aid dyed piece of silk.)

A contraptions set of wooden planks sent for Ethans birthday from his Nana is a daily example of how many things can be made for marbles with this relatively simple little boards!

Blocks cut and sanded from scrap poplar lumber is a much enjoyed birthday gift from Paw Paw and Maw Maw Su

one of our favorite spots at the park downtown. I sit and read and kids play under this huge pine tree or down by the creek for hours. We spot rabbits, squirrels, birds, bugs, and if you get there early enough, a wild bantam rooster walks around crowing!

Chris and kids explore the creek on Ethans birthday

Ethan on a trail walk this morning

a turtle discovered on our trail walks

huge water spider found at the creek!

fantastic beetle discovered on a nature walk

My summer seed collection on display by my desk

Verity continues to grow into a beautiful toddler, with golden locks, dark eyes, and olive skin...

Ethan tells himself a story about Blue and Yellow while doing some wet-on-wet watercoloring

What to do with old wet-on-wet watercolor projects? Make cards, of course!

Making sun prints in the backyard

Finished sun prints on display

Ver ready for the market with her mama-made knitted sun hat and a handmade dress passed down from our dear friend Misty in Portland

One of my favorite snacks lately: a fresh pizza dip for left over sourdough bread. Simply heat olive oil, garlic cloves, chopped tomatoes, and a jalepeno on a skillet with nitrate-free pepperoni or a spicy local sausage.. Add cayenne, chili powder, achioti, and sea salt to taste. Add fresh basil and cilantro, top with shredded raw chedder cheese. Yum!

Delicious oat groat cereal has been a morning ritual lately. Soaked overnight, the oat groats are cooked in the morning and then raw milk, raw eggs yolks, maple syrup/rawhoney, lavender buds, vanilla extract, and a pinch of sea salt are added to the pot (off heat). Ladel into a pretty teacup, and top with blueberries, blanched almonds, and ground flax seeds. Mmm...

Gladiolas in the sunlight

Since moving to Columbia and starting up discussions with the local waldorf book group each week, I have come around to my own spirituality and beliefs in a way I haven’t in a long time – or maybe ever. It is as though parenting, storytelling, Steiner, etc has opened up a back window to my house of faith, and this new entry carries with it many familiar sights and smells, but I am caught by the fact that there seems to be way less personal baggage from this route — the new angle has allowed to me the view from a different side, and I am grappling with tenets of life and faith in a way that is removed from some of the intention, suspicion, and experience of my past. Coming at it from this direction has way less cobwebs. It is a refreshing experience.

When I began to understand the power of story, particularly stories told aloud to children, in the book group and through what we are reading and doing, I was lead, (and I do mean “lead”, as I felt this unmitigated pull from one book/resource to the next, having the subject opened to me layer by layer without at first even realizing the correlations between each, ) to a short personal study on myths (i.e. Joseph Campbell) and then began to look at religious myths and the role these play in integrating mankind to their Creator, throughout history, throughout cultures.

What I once saw as fake, legalistic, empty, ritualistic, etc, I began to get from a standpoint of human development and consciousness, (and by no means do I mean that I now understand it is I am getting at here – I have only tapped the surface of this subject).

I felt myself drawn to the mystery of my own religious heritage, the history of my church, the stories of battles and adventure and reformations… and even towards its sacred text (the Bible), in much the way Brian McLaren urges people to read it, not as a “rule book” but as a “narrative”. I wondered why, if I celebrate and honor the sacred stories for other people groups as important, crucial, real, and magical for that culture – why do I not see my own beliefs in this way?

In other words, perhaps there is a different way to approach my faith beyond that of a passive submission, unquestioning and often too full of pride, folly, ignorance, and judgement, OR the other extreme; a dogmatic, theological discourse on every verse in the canonized bible taken literally (and an inevitable exasperation with that discourse that leads to living a life of fairly inactive personal faith, because I can’t help but feel like it is missing the whole point!). And that different way would look something more like the ancient stories of my faith, as archetypes, and that in embracing this story in such a way, I could experience the true elements of the story (of any story) in a deeper way (much the way I am learning to craft stories for the kids, and let them sit with a story, and let it resonate deep within their being in the way that Waldorf education promotes).

I have immersed myself this Summer with some of my old favorites, like Thomas Merton and Kathleen Norris. I have been reading about storytelling for children while understanding its importance for adults as well, through authors such as Joseph Campbell and Thomas Moore. I have been setting my listening preferences to things I would have never expected – Gregorian chants and chanticleer! I am craving something sacred and I am finding it, and it is lighting up something within me that has felt displaced and wandering for some time now. For crying out loud, I am even falling in love with liturgy! I have been going through the Morning, Mid-Day, and Evening prayers in Shane Claiborne’s “Common Prayer; a Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals” each day and finding them tremendously meaningful and beautiful. I have been attracted to monasticism, reading several books on monk habits, including the Rule of St. Benedict, and looking up local monasteries where I might go stay for a retreat and understand more about this way of life. In my desperation for liturgy, I attended Vespers at a Greek Orthodox church here in town. This week I rented “Of Gods and Men” and just balled – I felt such a kinship to the French monks and let the movie really move me in a deep way — (they really did a great job with this movie – you must watch it!).

It is pretty bizarre to me, this refreshed thirst. I have very little experience in a liturgical setting and most of it wasn’t pleasant. But now I can’t get enough. Where for many years I cringed at the word “discipline” or “ritual”, I now feel like it has been a crucial missing ingredient in my life. As I am beginning to see how a child needs his parents leadership to push and stretch his will, so do I need my own (strong, ahem) will stretched and pulled. I need to make my bed each morning. I need to do the dishes as soon as I dirty them. I need to embrace the mundane, tedious, sacrificial daily work of being a homemaker in much the same way that monks embrace God’s call to a life in constant communion with Him through the mundane and unglamorous tasks at hand. Each scrub of the bathtub, cleaning up of my child’s vomit, chopping vegetables for dinner, or the discipline of keeping my checkbook balanced and home uncluttered can be a prayer; can be a meditation on being in the moment, of sobriety and depth, of thanking God in silence and solitude or chaos and confusion; of the losing of my life in order to truly gain it. Imagine that.

It’s also been really neat to watch Ethan this month, and my own mothering, as a result of some of this searching… We have made certain times of day even more sacred, particularly bedtime. I began collecting poems, verses, hymns, etc awhile back which correlate for different times of the day, and different seasons of the year. It’s a daily journal, in a way a daily office, but for our particular family. Ethan seems to really relish the spiritual songs. After our nighttime reading (we have finished the first four books of the Chronicles of Narnia since moving to Columbia, and he just eats them up. He is loving Prince Caspian right now and asks so much questions about Aslan in relationship to Jesus… its very dear), we light a beeswax candle and I read a verse about the flame being our reminder that God hearing our prayers and lights up the darkness, etc, then together he and Ver blow it out and in the immediate darkness that surrounds us, we begin to sing the Our Father. From there we may sing other songs, like Take My Life, Doxology, Be Thou my Vision, and Let Their be Peace on Earth, his favorites. It requires me to set aside my impatience and any feelings of bitterness or exhaustion; I am extending my evening but I am gaining so much by laying in the darkness with my children and having a time of family worship before bed. I have often been shy and unsure about bringing my faith into my children’s lives, but lately I have felt compelled to infuse their childhood with this mystical and beautiful story, and to enrich the growth of their souls with the words of these powerful spiritual songs.

And tying in with this topic of personal ah-ha’s and such, I’ve been coming back around to the topic of community, and going through some hardships here in Columbia at what community shouldn’t be, how much I miss my communities in other states, and how easy it is to give up and move on when things don’t go as we would like. By no coincidence I am sure, I had read Life Together (Bonhoeffer) earlier this year, and just last night before bed read a quote from that book in another I am reading, “Monk Habits for Everyday People” by Dennis Okholm. It was left with me shortly before bed. When I woke up, ate some pancakes, and we all ventured out to try a new church this morning, what do ya know it, they shared the exact same Bonhoeffer quote in the sermon (and the experience of the new church was very encouraging and sweet — we have settled on calling this one our local church “home” and look forward to getting more involved, yay!).

Things like that have been happening all over the place for me. One little trail leads to the next and I see this little glimpse of the corner of the tapestry my Father is weaving for me, for all of us. It is a nice confirmation internally, to feel like you are where you should be, that you are experiencing (whether pleasurable or painful) the very thing you are meant to experience at this time. It is a comforting thought, and one that sustains me today, through unknowns and disappointments, and amidst exciting possibilities and beautiful new connections.

click the full screen icon on the slideshow to view recent pics of our life a little bigger

I already seem to have a different kid.

For just 3 days now, I have been even more focused on connecting Ethan with nature, keeping all media out of his life, and keeping my explanations and talking to a minimum. The reason for this has been a sincere recommendation from some wise waldorf-inspired mamas/teachers at the local waldorf coop, who I recently had the opportunity to meet and “pick their brains” regarding Ethan’s life stage and whole-child well being. (P.S. I will be enrolling him in a 3-mornings a week kindergarten [his final year of kindergarten in waldorf education] for next year. P.S.S. I have been working again- a small bit each week, from home, with a cherished former client, which will allow me to pay for his part-time schooling. Serious answer to prayer!).

Without going into too much detail about Rudolf Steiner, Waldorf educational philosophy, anthroposophy, etc (for one thing, I wouldn’t be an expert enough to explain it right, and for another, you may not find it very interesting), I will try my best to sum it up as this: Ethan’s adult/thinking/intellectual side was awakened prematurely via adult logic, correction and conversations, over-explanation, etc etc. So he has what appears to be this verbal adeptness, sharp-witted tongue, analytical nervousness, and constant flow of thinking and conversation (as opposed to the “dreamy state” of childhood, play and imagination dominating rather than watching the clock, working on worksheets, worrying like an adult, etc). Sure, some of this is normal development, some of this is Ethan’s personality – but quite a bit of it has come off to me, for some years now, as imbalanced, disconnected, unassimilated… that is to say, the intellectual part is so curious, eager, anxious, reasoning, while his physical, emotional, spiritual self he carries kinda uncomfortably. Hopefully that makes sense.

(For more thoughts on this, two good articles here and here.)

It has been sort of an experiment for me to start in this direction. I have said for many years that we, as a homeschooling family, “set up tent” very near the Waldorf “camp”. There’s been a lot of it that resonates with me, particularly the vision of early childhood being unencumbered by the adult world. That has been extra hard to facilitate at home with Ethan, however, – for many reasons that I won’t go into because it’s not really all that necessary. But having hit this wall of confusion about Ethan’s, for lack of a better word at the moment, behavior, through observing things that felt “off” for me and have been quite a challenge that I didn’t know how to tackle. Some advised public school (keep him busy, put him with lots of kids, feed his intellect?) and others unschool (same reasons, along with “giftedness” and being able to accelerate by following his own interests), but rarely did I consider what I am actually most drawn to as a child development stance in the first place: that he needed to be held close, play more, relax more, more time outside, more time in open-ended handwork (no “right” and “wrong” way, no self-critique) and no time with media (preconceived images, electronic entertainment, stunts his own ability to imagine and be creative, “teaches” too much at too young an age, etc etc), and talked to LESS.

So that is kinda the why and how with this more focused next chapter of homeschooling/parenting for the kids.

While the playschool (which was waldorf-inspired) that I did from home a few days a week last Fall was where my heart was at, I honestly felt so discouraged by Ethan’s reactions to things – wondering if this approach fits him or not… In this world we live in, a child who does have some media exposure, a variety of peers, and is exposed to any of the massive amounts of commercialism out there, I think it is really difficult to craft this “beauty bubble” of felted wool animals and wooden toys and songs and backyards… I took it personally when he begged for battery operated remote control cars and plastic ramps and movies and candy and jump zone and bla bla bla! I second-guessed myself all the time, and coming from that place of lacking confidence in if what I am doing is right for this child, I didn’t quite know where MY boundaries were, or if it was even OKAY to keep certain things from a kid if he thinks he wants them, or just HOW to do this whole thing without compromising our families values?! Giving in didn’t feel good, being rigid didn’t feel good – I was so unsure!

But then I spoke with the mamas from the coop, was reassured that all of us moms are going through it with this generation of kids and the influences around our families and so on. And then I was given something I think I really needed: the validation that it is okay to be the Mom, in the role they call the “Authentic Leader”, to say – “no” but with confidence and without huge, weighty explanations (i.e. “no, we can’t buy the plastic car because the earth is dying from over-population and pollution, so let’s go learn about carbon dioxide and leaching and landfills and global warming so that you fully understand the implications of XYZ that has marketed to you by the Powers That Be who only have their bank accounts to be concerned about — which as it turns out is ANOTHER reason I won’t buy that car because we have no money.” – YES, that was an only slightly exaggerated version of my answer.) I thought, he is so curious, so verbal, so intellectual – he seems to “get it” so why not tell him the truth? Be straight with him. Right?! Lol

So lately I’ve been praying and trying to be very awake and mindful of how I answer, what I say to and in front of the kids, and keeping things simple and firm, and often playful if necessary. In light of “zero screen time”, (we were already a fairly low-screen family compared to mainstream parenting, but I gave in often with many conflicting thoughts and feelings about it): I’ve kept PBS Kids off, not gone to the library for computer games, not even put on background music (not just because it’s a Waldorf thing, but I actually tested the background music thing on Ethan by asking if he wanted it while we wet-on-wet watercolored, which he replied, “No, I can’t paint very well when there is noise in the room”!) I’ve been trying to remember that while kids deserve the respect and courtesy and empathy you would give another adult, they are NOT mini-adults, and they need the guidance and the strength of their Leader to help them navigate.

I feel like I should just pause here to say — I know not everyone fully agrees, and that, especially with the unschooling-type folks whom I also totally get, some of this is actually counter to what they think kids need (trust, choices, freedom, equality, self-directed?). I think there is a balance to find between the two extremes, for sure, and one that I am always on the look out to find But for now, I feel, personally, a deep intuitive response to this approach with my kids at this time. I feel this is the best way in which to guide them into balance through childhood of unhurried, natural play; with all the choices about what food is served, what toys are played with, what the media policy will be, what time is bedtime, etc made by the loving adults in their lives – not them. Besides, they will have plenty of time to worry about all the responsibilities and choices later. I respect all the hard-working, well-researched mamas who are doing things differently with their broods, and would never intend to put anyone off by talking about this approach as the ONLY “right” way. It is, however, the way that feels best for us. Moreover, it is the approach I feel my children and I need to bring healing to our home — and our homeschooling.

So far, I have been really impressed – had I any doubts and skepticism about the effects of going “all in” with the “waldorf way” right now, I have been gradually shedding them in light of the effects it is having on Ethan, particularly.

This was a child who I thought could NEVER be alone, would chatter my ear off, beg (intellectually) and reason and argue til he was blue in the face. He was nervous, anxious about the clock all.the.time. (for the last 3 days we have put black tape over all the clocks in our home!) and frequently out of bounds in his body, not understanding boundaries. While always a great kid, with a heart of gold and good intentions, he exhausted me to a point that I questioned whether this was just a “normal phase” or just his “personality”. I have sensed in the last year or so that he felt put-off by others, while highly self-critical in his efforts (darn perfectionist mama’s influence, to be sure!), that others were annoyed by his energetic-out-of-bounds-ness and talkative nature, and he seemed sort of adrift in a sea without a lifeline – without a constant strong source keeping him grounded. He seemed like a child who didn’t feel safe. Clingy to anyone who showed him attention, which he hoped would be every one.

I could say a million good things about Ethan – this almost-6 year old kid ROCKS and I couldn’t be prouder of him – and I’ve shared such things many times on this blog. But the above is what had begun to frustrate and concern me on and off in recent years, which is why I’ve shared them here. Most of my close friends and family are aware of these observations and have a few of their own.

Right now, however, I’m feeling hopeful, like a weight has been lifted as I’ve been given the permission to adopt a PLAN and that the implementation has been easier than I thought it would be, and the effects I am observing this past week, of both Ethan as well as myself and MY behavior, are really validating me, like a whisper in my heart: we are going in the right direction, yes, yes, more of this!!!

Ethan has been responding with a tremendous amount of love and affection towards his family, a sort of gratitude has been coming off him. He keeps smiling, and hugging, and saying he loves us. He seems positive, less critical, even more courageous. When I tucked him in last night, after ample time together, oatmeal maple-sweetened cookies he helped make, “tea time”, lots and lots of books and a story I made up for him, songs, candles, warm foot bath – he said, “I like the way I feel at night when I go to bed now. I feel safe.” (The previous routine was less heart-felt: dinner, bath, commands to get dressed, brush teeth, pick up room, read one book, sing a quick song, say a quick prayer, off to bed and a warning, “go to sleep, okay? Do NOT talk anymore!”) I’m trying very hard to infuse my time around Ethan with more acceptance, less talking, more hugs, more magic/less logic, more mindfulness. Parenting is a lifetime’s journey, but whenever I get back to these basics, for me, it feels right. Connected, balanced, thoughtful, and nourishing.

Another validating moment: I’ve mentioned that we have put black tape over the clocks. This was in an effort to help him forgo his obsession with the clock (no, really, I mean it!), to instead relax, find a flexible rhythm, and to keep him and us more involved in the present moment instead of living in and worrying about the future. But we did so with little explanation of WHY, just kinda “ho, hum, let’s not worry about the clock, what is the sun telling us to do?” kind of thing). Well at first he found this frustrating, of course, but after days of lamenting that we were keeping the time hidden from him – he was going off to bed with no idea of the actual time (roughly 8, at usual), and he remarked, “Now I kinda like that you guys won’t show me the time – I feel like the days are really looooong and fulllllllll and I’m so tired and just ready to go to bed!” *phew, I wasn’t torturing him!*

And the boy that can’t stop talking, who will never give me space, who will never be alone? Well, he seems to be getting balanced even this early in the new program: a boy who is reconnecting with nature through “practical work” (google it in waldorf terms if you need more explanation), who has been getting up before me and heading straight to the sandbox, a boy who can stay in the backyard for hours and hours in his world, hammering things and swinging and digging – therapy for the child who two weeks ago couldn’t think of anything “to do” and lived by the digital numbers on the oven to tell him how long until XYZ would happen. I am so happy for him – to see him just be a child is a mother’s delight.

Isn’t this what childhood should be; long, full days of nature and play and homemade food, leaving you eager for the pillow and the sweet dreams you’ll have? No worries about adult things, no quizzes on how to spell or add, no scientific names to remember, no critics of your work through grades or gold stars or punitive punishments for your mistakes? With an adult who is capable, composed, playful, warm but firm, where boundaries are clear and expectations are reasonable and age-appropriate? Where adults do not yell or hit or mock or belittle, or lack respect and virtue? Simply the child’s world of imagination and goodness and singing and experiencing through the senses the beauty all around them? Simple. Natural. Magical. Slow.

I think so.

{{Before I go on, let me take a moment to apologize for the wordy length of this post. Sorry. Also, you will be rewarded with pictures at the end. But don’t skip ahead just because I told you that, because the content explains the pictures. (gotcha!) }}

I began reading some really excellent financial books that have given me some valuable ideas and resources, but most importantly the validation that living a life of frugality is indeed a freeing and valid choice (however un-American it feels at first!). The topic is exhaustive so I won’t go into all the details, but some resources for me have been primarily Radical Homemakers (my go-to!), Your Money or Your Life, and recently The Scavenger’s Manifesto, Made from Scratch and the Tightwad Gazette (check these out at your library!). There is so much about it that fascinates me as a subject matter and lifestyle choice, as it takes a certain amount of confidence to transcend the idea that voluntary simplicity (and foraging/scavenging/bartering/waiting/and often going without) is a deprived, resource-less, bohemian (though this word might actually be appropriate) life of poverty (or worse – laziness).

I can acutely feel the pressure, on many fronts, to just forget this whole business of living simply and just get a job job, put Ethan in public school, and force myself onto that hamster wheel because what I’m faced with if I do not do so seems too exhausting, lonely, challenging, and doomed-from-the-start. But I have never been one to unquestionably accept the status quot solution without at least researching and utilizing some alternatives that don’t compromise my heart’s values and desires.

To view the lifestyle instead as a challenge in resourcefulness and ingenuity and invention (the daughter of necessity?), a call to radically reject the consumer cycle (as the Scavenger Manifesto calls it, the “Want-Get” mentality) of materialism and waste and the myth of “choices”, and to capitalize on the lack of excess as a catalyst for gaining increased self-sufficiency and experience.

It’s been heavy at times, as I sit with the reality of compulsive choices I have made, the “treats” I wanted to “deserve” over the years and the financial pressures we have incurred both from our own choices or those of the “down economy”. While I have never had what I would have called affluence, often forgoing large things like extra vehicles or a house with more space than I need or vacations or store-bought clothes, I had to recognize that we had made choices with where what little money we had fell between the cracks (where did it go?!) on silly things like convenience food (i.e. “oh, we are going to the library, we’ll stop and grab bagels first”), expensive cheeses (next I need to learn how to be a foodie on a budget!), library fines, shipping fees, so on.

Our plan to move to Columbia and for Chris to take this flexible, enjoyable, sustainably-minded, locally-owned job was a calculated risk and I am in no way making it work without flaws just 4 weeks into this venture… *yet*. For our entire marriage I have worked (I’ve held a job since I was 14, for that matter), I financed over 90% of my private-education undergrad degree with grants/scholarships and work credits, and since having children I have been the main earner generating income from my own at-home business. Yet, for a variety of reasons I have shared in the past on this blog, we have been taking steps to switch these roles for sometime now, as continuing down that path left me stressed, strapped, unorganized, unhappy, and unable to homeschool. So I knew there would be sacrifices, but the idea that I could creatively figure this out was incredibly motivating for me and continues to be as I think of new ways to live and think about the choices we can make to realize this “dream” of living simply, learning more, feeling more enriched and fulfilled by a life of time and resources to live generously — while making as a household income less than we have EVER earned before, even while in college.

So rather than recount the unexpected bills and financial upsets to our last 4 weeks (though there have indeed been those too!), I want to move on to the fun stuff, the things that I am finding just slap-knee exciting about learning to be a tight-wad!

First of all, I think being frugal is a lot easier if you live amongst other frugals; in community with swappers, food growers, barterers, pickers, foragers, forgoers, and coupon-clippers. It kinda validates the lifestyle, which is definitely counter-cultural otherwise. I think these folks exist just about everywhere, you just gotta find them — and be willing to be their equal.

Secondly, there are a lot of hidden perks to being frugal that, if you can let go of the concept of “Want-Get” mentality, are pretty rad. Clothing swaps with stylishly-dressed donators are fun and easy. Garage sales and “free bins” amaze me. Bartering goods and services is highly effective. Learning a new skill so you don’t have to pay some one to do it for you is way more satisfying. Paying only a quarter of your previous monthly vehicle gasoline budget when every one on the news is lamenting the climbing gas prices is reassuring. Having even just a few bucks left over at the end of the week, rather than going into more debt, is rewarding. Learning to wait for something you would have just ran out to get as soon as you “needed” it, like a washer/bike/freezer/radio/whatever until you have saved for it and found the right deal (hopefully free!) fosters a feeling of contentment and relaxation, a mindfulness about accumulating goods. Keeping track of receipts, organizing bills, and forgoing “treats” is, well, it’s growing up, (and it also reducing a BUTTLOAD of anxiety at the end of a pay cycle! who knew? )

I will be posting again a weekly series I call Simple Pleasures – a record of things that were bartered, gifted, thrifted, made, grown, saved for, or given away that brought pleasure to my life each week:

Things like…

A family walk to the public library (which boasts NO limits and NO late fees!), where we forage for edible dandelions and violets, sight a groundhog, and work off belly fat – who needs a gym membership when you have legs?!). Our ten dollar weekly budget that gets us 2 gallons of raw milk and 2 pints of raw cream (homemade cream cheese!) every Monday on our neighbor’s doorstep. The bags FULL of amazing books, music and documentaries we bring back from the library. The free use of internet around town. The free movies we rent for family movie night at 9th Street Video because Chris works at Uprise. The free (local) coffee both Chris and I get from Uprise while renting the free movies at 9th street, on our way to getting the free books from the library. The knitted gifts to trade for babysitting. The free movie tickets on our date night and the $5 (total) we spent for the organic wine and beer we enjoyed while watching the movie. The outings of packed lunches at the park and nature trails just outside the city. The Easter baskets filled with sprouted wheat grass (seeds a gift from a friend) and sales on the organic bulk bin candy which filled saved egg shells from breakfast. The downright gourmet meals that can be made with a friends’ surplus garden grub and bulk natural foods from Azure Standard. The upcoming “Columbia’s Really Really Free Market” and the free backyard chicken processing workshop I will attend in the coming weeks (bringing home the bird for dinner!). The fishing I will take up this summer to catch a good supply of trout and the harvest I will reap and keep from my garden beds, whose compost was generously gifted to us in exchange for a half dozen of our chicken eggs and the tomato and pepper starts donated to us from the local urban farms surplus, (thank you Luke!)

… you get the idea. SIMPLE pleasures that offset some of the difficulties we have faced, and brought meaning and blessing to my life in often surprising ways.

It’s really quite fun to get even crazier!

This little home economics notebook from 1917 that I found at a thrift store was really inspiring. I’m fascinated with homemakers of the bygone era, who made due with as little as 1,200 yearly salary. Had to take a picture (but not buy! lol)

A virtually free (did have to spend a little money on the sweets), hand-made Easter tradition…

Easter brunch of whatever is on hand – quail eggs (a gift from sweet friend Natalie), fruit, plain yogurt with raw honey…

A simple park outing can be entertaining, fun, and even a bit of a break… at no cost at all!

Who needs a mall playground (without actually intending it, we haven’t stepped foot in a shopping mall in over 2 years and counting!) when you have nature trails, dandelions to blow, rocks to throw in a creek, and bridges to run across?!

I typically walk out of the library with armloads of books, as there are no limits, no late fees, and a great selection. This week’s focus was homeschooling resources…

Free meals during his shift, Chris enjoys free freshly made artisan sandwiches with locally raised meat sources, along with a glass of organic beer, 5-6 times per week. I have been impressed with how this has reduced the amount of groceries we go through each week! (gosh, his job sure sounds terrible, doesn’t it? )

Family dance jams are a nice way to pass the time…

Foraged edibles from the front yard – violets, dandelion flowers and leaves – beautiful, free nourishment

Diggin in dirt rarely gets old… finding worms, black beetles, grubs and cicada’s is just too fun!

“new” used books from the library used book sale

Tire swings from the tires just replaced on the car – endless hours of entertainment (I’ve lovingly nicknamed this swing Jenna the Babysitter)

This old suitcase ($1) and milk glass saucer (.25) from the end of a garage sale now serves as my undergarment storage and homemade salad dressing dispenser (respectively)

Big pile of great Spring sweaters (free from a clothing swap)

$1 garage sale vintage lamp base that just whispers my name…

Doll clothes found in a “free” basket!

A frugal “pantry” of bulk foods, collected eggs, and home brews…

A vintage typewriter for my prose (free in exchange for me learning to tinker with it and get a new ribbon)

Still, sprinkled like bacon bits in the salad of my “rough patch” and “dark night” experiences are some enduring lessons and reminders; new preparations and growth that becomes invaluable for living this amazing and sometimes overwhelming thing called life.

The fact is, I am (we all are!) incredibly, unfathomably blessed, even if everything and everyone around me (which I cling to for purpose, identity, validation and acceptance) is stripped away. This I strive to remember. So yeah. It is what it is.

I’ll be back this week with more thoughts, quotes, pictures, and updates. Right now I’ve got a pile of homeschooling books from the library to glean inspiration from on this stormy day …

I won’t share the whole fiasco today involving my car and a moment of OHMYGOD-it’s-dead, followed by my OH-DUH-I’m-just-out-of-gas realization after I had dramatized the situation and shed some tears and all that embarrassing stuff. We’ll just leave it at that.

Suffice it to say, I seem to be hitting the same road signs again and again lately (wait, am I going in circles?!), and most of them go something like, “CHILL OUT. TRUST ME. I HAVE A PLAN!”

But I digress.

In other news, we welcomed 4 new members (1 is hiding in the other corner in the photo below) to our urban homestead today, and I can’t say enough about how cute, cute, CUTE these little gals (hopefully!) are! Ethan summed it best when he said, “Oh my gosh, I don’t know but every time I look at them it’s like I’m going to cry because they are just so cute!”

Meet…

Stormy, the barred rock chick, smallest of the quartet, who is spunky, loud and dodges being held like the plague. Her eggs will be brown, similar to our current laying hens, Magic and Daffodil (a Rhode Island Red and Gold-Sex Link, respectively).

Nutmeg, who narrowly escaped the hatchery box to head home with our lot when Chris chimed in that this was his favorite and we kicked out a cute little copper-colored one to make room for this little speckled Americauna. All I can say after careful observation is that Nutmeg is a good eater. I’m not surprised her and Chris felt a connection.

Lulla, another Americauna whose coloring looks slightly like Nutmeg, but with unmistakable chipmunk-like markings rather than speckles (at least thus far, on her chick down – the eventual adult feathers could be quite different!). Ethan named her Lullaby, which we shortened to Lulla. She is robust and docile and seems to mind her own business.

And lastly, my personal fav, is Celeste, a little fluffy angelic cream-colored Americauna with nice green hues to her legs (a sign of good “easter egg” blueish/green eggs which are the signature of Americauna’s, like Nutmeg and Lulla as well). She happens to be the biggest (or just fluffiest) of the bunch and is quiet, sleepy, and seems to not mind being held in the least. She falls asleep in your palm almost immediately. I’ve seen her prance around and eat her fill, but her general demeanor is calm and chill.

I just love chick-raising time of year. This is the 3rd time we’ve brooded chicks and it’s beginning to feel like an annual rite of passage in April. I love watching them, so little for such a very short amount of time, as they provide endless entertainment. Soon they’ll be sprouting larger, darker feathers and looking all gaggly like awkward teenagers and attempting to fly out of their brooding box.

I am crossing my fingers that this group continues down an all-female path (roosters are a no-go in city limits). And I can’t wait, CANNOT WAIT I TELL YOU, for the day that I reach into the nest box and pull out a colorful selection of brown and easter-blue eggs!

I have a special affinity for easter eggers (Americauna’s or Araucana’s). Last month I purchased a dozen eggs at the co-op from a local farm, that upon opening I was enthralled to find every single one a various shade of creamy blue and green hues! I waited a week before cracking them because they were so beautiful. And the yolk is always extra yellow, making scrambled eggs look sort of neon! Even after eating them, I saved a few shells to make some dear friends some beeswax egg candles:

Other than bringing home baby chicks today, I’m happy to report that we got our bazillion loads of laundry done at the laundry mat yesterday (no more fights with the drying lines – for now), and we spent a few hard-working hours in the sun yesterday putting up the chicken run. We clipped the hens wings (they’re rockin’ flyers, but they need to stay lower and confined to their run, for our neighboring yard is full of dogs) and made an area for the compost heap and hanging feeder, as well as a new nesting box made of a storage tote with a hole cut out of the lid (non-wood means less worry about mites). We also recycled one of our used tires as a dusting box for the hens (nice size and the “lip” on the top helps them bathe without kicking up too much dust into their face). They were flippin’ out to have a sunny day to throw a new bag of sand around and scratch up a newly forming pile of winter leaves and rotting kitchen scraps. Seriously, who needs TV when you have these critters to watch?!

Ethan is ever enjoying his new mama-made hoola hoop:

Ver sporting her mama-knitted “spring” cap:

And enjoying the tree swing immensely:

Spring has sprung in our yard with a lone yellow tulip:

Ethan finding himself a bright palette of Springtime colors in his watercoloring:

I snagged the best swing jumping photo ever, of Luke and Natalie our Columbia friendies, at our picnic last Sunday at Lake Stephens Park:

Pots of coffee are now brewed in this old stainless steel percolator that I snatched up for 20 bucks at a resale store several years ago and just recently decided to put to good use. Still works great! (and check out the lovely jar of raw cream from a local pastured dairy farm – just $1.75!)

Another highlight this week was a rare seafood dinner (seafood is a little pricey when you are landlocked as we are here); I scored some wild caught salmon (frozen, but beggers can’t be choosers, eh?) on major sale, so this evening the kids and I feasted on blood oranges and rosemary salmon fillets with amaranth and steamed edamame to compliment.

So that’s the newsy news. I am going back to my books and raw milk maple steamer, while listening to the sound of wittle bitty chirps float through the air…

I have come to value, with increasing measure, the few hours of solitude each week that this new life schedule leaves me. When kiddos have fallen asleep, and Chris can’t be expected home from work for a few hours, I become an enchanted version of myself: the kitchen gets wiped up with a hum on my lips, and then I make myself a raw milk steamer or pour a glass of red and snuggle on the couch with a wool blanket, candles and incense lit, subtle music on in the background (I so rarely enjoy listening to the things I – and only I – like!), and like clockwork, a book is opened on my lap. Oh, despite my talkativeness, Lord knows I am truly an introvert through and through!

I have been blessed by many of the books I chose from the shelves on a whim – few have been disappointments and I have poured over at least 5 at a time (this is how I read books) with notebook and pen at the ready, scribbling down phrases and thoughts the author has bravely passed on in print.

The subject matter varies only a little: homesteading, gardening, cooking, knitting, parenting, poetry, and regional nature guides. (In my mind, such topics obviously belong together like butter and bread.)

In my moments alone, soaking in the knowledge and experiences found in each book’s library-conditioned pages, a single common denominator, a running stitch, has emerged to the forefront of my thoughts: domesticity.

I have had a love-hate relationship with that word, that ideal, all my relatively short life. As the daughter of a single father, in a household devoid of sisters and womanly charm, my artistic endeavors carried me to the door of the gentle arts, i.e. domesticity, many times. I was thrilled when I learned to make eggs, pancakes, and spaghetti reasonably well in junior high, but even more so when the opportunity arose to cook for friends, (playing hostess was always fun for me). The fantasy of adult dinner parties lured me, as did cleverly placed art on a wall or harmonious colors in home décor, and images of motherly nurturing women who embodied ferocious strength and gentle patience were some of my most treasured icons. Still, I was limited in my lack of confidence and much of what I knew came from TLC programming rather than a real life experience and first-hand witness to domestic skills. So acute was my feeling of tom-boyishness that I vividly remember pouring out tears of anguish to my youth pastor and his wife in high school, plagued with the idea that marriage, family, and household management would be impossible for someone as UN-domestic as I was!

Ironic, perhaps, that I married my now husband at the tender age of 18, and began the crash course in cooking, cleaning, and domestic duties immediately. Of course, it would be some time before I found real joy or meaning in such things, (at least beyond that strange and shallow competitiveness that fought for perfection at every turn to fill my gaping holes of insecurity). Eventually I would move to a city of DIY, budget-limited eccentric environmentalists (Portland) and begin to recognize the creative flow of asymmetry, brilliant imperfection, and true domesticity; Domesticity with purpose, fueled by deeply felt values, and the inspired project it takes on with beginner’s ambition.

I have heard since then many women tell me, often with a sense of lament and guilt, that they are simply not domestic. I wish I knew the best way to define that word, but something tells me that no matter what it is, we all have the sense of it being an unreachable, perhaps even anti-feminist, trait reserved for television housewives in the 50’s and 60’s. But I believe we’ve heaped enough coal on the image of domestic arts and homemaking and chastised ourselves too readily for not having attained some level of experience and enjoyment of these pieces of ourselves (however untapped).

GETTING STARTED

Getting started is always rough and full of blunder, let’s just get that fact out of the way, shall we? The first time I ever made a big pot of chili, I didn’t even know that the sour cream and cheese was to garnish the top of a served bowl: I mixed the final ingredients right on in with that luscious red soup and the result was rather thick and creamy – which didn’t look very appetizing. And the first 6 months or so that I tried to master knitting was colored with four-letter words while unraveling 2-3 hours of simple 2-needle stockinet and garter projects and starting all over when my pride had recovered.

More recently, (as in TODAY), I attempted to wash my first load of clothes by hand, out of sheer necessity and romanticized notions of the “washing days” in the warm months ahead. The first phase went pretty good – I got the tub full of hot soapy water and shook around the dirty clothes a bit. Then I wrung them by hand (I do plan to get a wringer, in case you’re worried about my sanity), emptied the dirty water, refilled with cool water and let sit to rinse. It was later, tired from other chores and now alone with both kids, that I had to wring the cool water out (again by hand) that I began to tucker out and find the wrist pain pretty uncomfortable. Still, I did it, and hauled the heavy wet clothes in a tote to the backyard so I could get them hung on some wooden drying lines that were set up in the backyard before we arrived.

It didn’t take much time to get the (still) dripping wet clothes slung up on the lines and I was feeling pretty proud of myself for making lemons with lemonade. Birds were chirping and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and I thought, this is the life. This is good stuff. One more garment to go and I can head in to start dinner. Well, no sooner did I pin that last item to the lines did I hear a SNAP and in a blink I was on the ground, knocked down by the gnarly wooden posts that had conceded to their loading capacity. I lay there only a moment, feeling a sharp pain in my shoulder where the splintery edges of the post had scraped down my body (unprotected in a tube top dress – you know, since they make such practical laundry clothing). I made myself get up, remembered the unconscious sh*t I had whispered on the way down, and then got pink-in-the-cheeks angry that my hearty attempt to do my laundry by hand failed epically on the final wrung of the battle. I brushed aside a few angry tears and hobbled towards the house, where the kids were putting on shoes to come outside, curious over the commotion of mama getting into a knock-down-drag-out-fight with the drying lines. At this very minute, several hours later, I am doing just fine, but those clothes out there are still laying in the dirt helplessly – I need a little space from the laundry for the rest of the day!

My point is, learning new stuff is rarely easy, often wrought with failure and fluorescent language of frustration, at least in my experience (so please, PLEASE, scrap any image you may have in your head of mama-earthy Vivian, dancing around in vintage aprons and whipping out gluten-free baked goods!) Reality is SO much more adventurous than that.

And now, in closing, I leave with you some of the inspiring and challenging truisms of my current reading materials:

“ ‘Cleaning your house while your kids are still growing is like shoveling the walk before it stops snowing.’ – Phyllis Diller (quoted in From a House to a Home by Jamima Mills)

***

“The gentle art of domesticity is the felicitous application of practical skills to the spaces in which we live. It requires a desire to make instead of consume, a triumph of activity over passivity and a return to using our hands and imaginations rather than a reliance on screens and technology…
Why on earth would anyone prefer to hand-stitch a quilt when you can buy a perfectly good one in a shop? Why knit a pair of socks when they are so easy and cheap to buy these days? Why bake a cake when the store shelves are groaning with ready-made treats? THE ANSWER lies in the not-so-revolutionary idea of seizing the means of production. It’s as simple and as complex as that. A modicum of practicality in the domestic space empowers us to make our own choices about what we create and eat, rather than handing over control of our homemaking to profit-making companies. It may sound surprisingly radical, and it is. Embedded in the gentle arts is a slyly subversive streak that encourages free-thought, individuality, creative self-expression, imaginative thought processes and not a little self-determinism. All this, and a great deal of pleasure, too.”

“It is so easy to lose touch… we can live in a bubble of emptiness [in lives with technology, cars, etc] and not even recognize that we are suffering from sensory deprivation. The problem is made worse by the current perception that many domestic activities are unpleasant. We no longer want to scrub with hard bristle brushes, instead we wipe with smooth, fresh-scented cleaning fluids and soft cloths. We buy nonstick pans to avoid using grating, metallic pads. We buy machine-washable everything and rarely plunge our hands in hot, soapy water. We tumble-dry clothes instead of dealing with wet washing in sun, wind and rain. We buy premade meals and keep sharp knives and grainy chopping boards for display purposes only. .. If we stop feeling our way through life, stop handling materials, we become passive and dependent on the ready-made and textureless. In doing so, we give up an element of independence, control, skill and autonomy. If we can no longer bake a loaf of bread, test a cake for doneness, plant a bulb, knit a simple garment, sew a quilt, we are quite helpless.”
-The Gentle Art of Domesticity; Stitching, Baking, Nature, Art, and the Comforts of Home, Jane Brocket

***

“Come dream with me this morning in my garden, next to our farmhouse on the road to Valley Forge. The sundial says it’s early still, though shadows can only guess at human time. From his roost in the chicken coop down by the barn, the rooster declares another day coming on, but he can wait.
I built the coop myself, of lumber scraps, and old door, and roofing I scavenged… rising early each day to hammer away before heading back to Philadelphia to earn my wage as a newspaperman. Today, half a hundred hens have the run of [the small farm]. They peck in the pasture and swale, along the pond and amid the stone ruins of the springhouse, though it’s the manure pile they love most, digging deep for the treasures within.”
-Home to Roost; A Backyard Farmer Chases Chickens through the Ages, Bob Sheasley

***

“At dusk, when I returned home, I spent more quality time with [my chickens]. Right before dark is when they’re the most active and fun to watch, so I’d go out with my fiddle and play to the crowd. I wasn’t very good at first, but they never complained during those early squeaks and squawks… Some nights in July, the farm was an absolute paradise. The cool Idaho summer night had me wrapped in a warm fleece jacket while hens hopped around the backyard. Mountain music wafted from my beginner fiddle as the tree frogs and crickets started their backup tracks. The honeybees hummed as they headed home to the hive from the garden, which was rich with fresh vegetables and bright sunflowers. The sun set behind the Selkirk Mountains in a pink-and-purple western sky. On those nights, it felt like everyone and everything was in its proper order, living together in my own peaceable kingdom.”

“Finally, after months of snow, thaw, and mud, the soil by the barn was ready for the wrath of my hoe. I pounded in the ground and roped of my two hundred square feet to freedom. It looked like nothing, no sweat. Not even as big as a standard swimming pool. I steadied my footing, raised my hoe in the air, and started hacking away.

Let me tell you something. Hoeing is really hard.

After about two hours in the April sun, which wasn’t even hot to begin with, I was panting like an ex-racing greyhound trying to sprint around the track after four months on a futon. My carelessly ungloved hands were blistered and splintered, my back ached, and all I had prepared was a small rectangle. It was about five feet by three feet. I had barely made any progress. I was about ready to throw up. Let’s hear it for me.
…

Sod breaking went like this. First I had to pierce the sod with a shovel and then pick it out with a hoe. This required muscle and several attempts of beating it into submission before it gave in. When I finally broke through, I had to keep hacking away at the topsoil till I hit clay, rocks, roots, and bugs be damned. When I wasn’t hoeing, I was chucking stones and yanking roots. I’m far from a delicate lady, so I was fine for the first twenty minutes. But then I started to ache. Little pains started to creep into my arms. My shoulders started to gossip with my back and half an hour later they both resented me. I kept trying with all my might to dislodge the roots that had shot back to life every Spring since The Wonder Years first aired, but they were tough customers and I was a girl who planted window boxes. I called the sod some pretty horrible things.

After two hours of this, I couldn’t imagine being able to take any more that day without dislocating something or ripping my hands open. So I stopped, gave the rest of the area I had plotted a good long look up and down, and promptly gave up. I had been defeated in honorable combat…

And that, my friends, is how I ended up with three small raised-bed gardens… Just between you and me, I still think m original plans were solid (if only I had been able to find a team of Amish kids and a rototiller).”
-Made from Scratch; Discovering the Pleasures of a Handmade Life, Jenna Woginrich