I've not been in picture-taking mode for months. Instead, imagine...

...the sound of remote control cars endlessly circling has been the background along with frequent refreshings of our new worship CDs. The kettle has nearly continuously refreshed the teapot with yet another new flavour to be poured into lovely pottery cups just big enough for my hand and small enough to necessitate a refill, again and again--it was the year for tea gifts!
*happy me*

With cold sunny light pouring in the windows and a cozy woodstove within arm's (or back's) reach we have felt little need to venture far. A few walks or runs for the brave, church and gatherings with friends. Christmas weekend has been a haven. Our hearts are full to overflowing with our blessings and we have been challenged to renew the keenness of our awareness of God and our ears to hear him through a more intimate and deliberate relationship with him.

As today leaves thoughts of Christmas behind and turns towards the new year, so my thoughts turn slowly and thoughtfully to the next year and the plans that already start to fill it. I have a window of planning time--a whole week to work at some of those ideas I'd put off till 'later'. Likely 'a whole week' will be not nearly enough time but I hope to not waste it. Yes, it's Christmas holidays and we have friends to visit and turkey to eat. Life's pace is more relaxed though no less full and my mind has time and space to roam and to return refreshed, hopefully with ideas blossoming into concrete plans. I hope as this year unfolds for myself to be gentler with my family, more dependant on God and thus productive in lasting, satisfying ways. Ways that may not be obviously lasting but by their very rightness will be satisfying.

Perhaps my words are leaning towards the philosophical and esoteric. My apologies for the confusion since I am hinting only at my thoughts and not stating them clearly.

Ask about it over a cup of tea someday....

We saw the moon!

The moon was so bright before bed that we all trooped outside to be in the moonlight as though day. Even as we stood there chatting, the clouds blew in across the sky; not a flutter of wind at ground level but lots way up high. We looked at each other in dismay* as we wondered whether it would clear before the lunar eclipse at 2am. Not much we could do so we set our alarms and went to bed.

It was cloudy at 2am. The sky orange at first but then darkening to a smudgy charcoal grey and finally nearly black. But no moon. We checked all the webcams from the NASA website and although we did see the moon for a while most of the sites went offline from heavy traffic. And anyway, it just wasn't satisfying watching it on a screen. It didn't seem real. I had already been out to see the smudge in real life so when I glanced out the window hopefully, again, and saw a star I flew to get my coat and boots on. The boys had all gone to bed so it was just BTG and I who nipped outside and saw the moon! God cleared a little patch for us near the time of totality just enough to see the moon dark and red with a bright ring around its edge. It only lasted about five minutes--maybe ten but it was enough!

I had to share it. I saw the moon.

*fun to actually write that line!

There's lots going on around here. I just don't feel like blogging about it. I'll get back to it sometime.

So, after pulling (rather, digging) out all our kale plants months ago, I noticed yesterday that we have more growing again. I know I've mentioned that I have kale in past blogs. I just checked and found two references, one here. But I've not talked of it enough for you to understand much of how this new sighting makes me laugh and the kids groan. It's too bad I didn't take pictures the first year when I planted out 6 little seedlings that quickly grew to be huge plants. I didn't really like kale before I planted it. You'll discover that's typical of my gardening habits. I plant some things so that I'll learn to like them and with some exceptions I usually do. Of course there are some things I think I like that I learn to dislike. Well, I quickly learned to like kale. We had so much of it I had to eat or be eaten. Search for kale recipes online and you'll most often come across kale chips. Worth a try. And it became my favourite way to prepare the greens. You see, kale doesn't get mushy like spinach. It gets crispy. And when you add a little oil and sea salt to the mix it becomes a snack worthy of any potato chip bag. K2 shared my enjoyment--a little too much at times until I learned to double my batch size. The plants survived a few frosts, tasted fine and continued to grow until they were covered by snow. So much for my kale. I hoped that maybe one plant would survive the winter as the package said but it was a long shot.

So I thought.

The snow melted and first one plant then another and finally a total of 8 plants grew and thrived. (How good is your math?) We--as in me and K2--were eating kale in April long before any other plant showed its tips. They went to seed, I dug them up, giggled when a new one that had seemed dead resurrected and then went to seed. It has literally been months since I dug up each and every plant. I found myself craving kale so that I even bought some from the market to make my chips and stir-fry with my cabbage. It wasn't as good but I didn't have to inspect it as closely for caterpillars.

And now there's a good sized plant again on its way. Kale into November again this year and who knows? maybe spring? One day I'll post a picture for you and you can smile with me at the silliness of kale that won't go away.

Charlotte Mason Meets the Digital World

Really, when someone describes the purpose of a conference as clearly as this I'm happy to just point the way to the author.

Please also follow the link to the Charlotte Mason Digital Collection!

This was a conference I so enjoyed to be a part of. In addition, as if the exciting happenings in the world of education weren't enough, a big part of the enjoyment came from the times outside the classroom. Time to visit with friends late into the night, a lovely hike, drives to and from the conference place, my hostess's beautiful home and family and friendship. She also drove us around so I could concentrate on visiting with her and not trying to follow those infernal directions that keep getting me. Will someone please put a GPS in my head? I admire the people involved in this conference so that I felt thrilled to be a part of the fun. Thank you, Deani!

And one more link for you. My son heard from my Dad that a new concerto written by Vivaldi has just been discovered and is scheduled to be played in full concert in Perth, Scotland in January, 2011.

Fog and Soup

I've been reading Carl Sandburg poems lately. I like them.

BUBBLES

Two bubbles found they had rainbows on their curves.

They flickered out saying:

"It was worth being a bubble just to have held that rainbow thirty seconds."

SHIRT

My shirt is a token and symbol,

more than a cover for sun and rain,

my shirt is a signal,

and a teller of souls.

I can take off my shirt and tear it,

and so make a ripping razzly noise,

and the people will say,

"Look at him tear his shirt."

I can keep my shirt on.

I can stick around and sing like a little bird

and look'em all in the eye and never be fazed.

I can keep my shirt on.

LOST

Desolate and lone

All night long on the lake

Where fog trails and mist creeps,

The whistle of a boat

Calls and cries unendingly,

Like some lost child

In tears and trouble

Hunting the harbor's breast

And the harbor's eyes.

It would be worth your while too to look him up at the library or at a used book store. Rainbows are Made is the book I'm enjoying. I also have his Complete Works from the library. FOG is his most famous poem. We love SOUP.

Share your favourites with someone, will you?

It's Fall.

Everything says so: the trees, the changeable weather, the golden hued sunlight, the wheat and corn all brown and rustly. The garden vegetables are long past their prime and our store room is filling up with squash and dry beans while the jars of tomato sauce and jam look pretty all lined up. Today has been a beautifully sunny day so we trimmed the school day to do some yard clean up and outdoor work. We transplanted trees, mowed the grass, raked up leftovers from the woodpiles that are being moved indoors--some to our indoors, some to another's indoors. The children have harvested their giant pumpkins and are setting them up in a display. With only half the afternoon gone we can already feel the air cooling into evening and it adds urgency to the tasks.

Soon winter will come. Then our biggest jobs will be keeping the wood area in the furnace room and the bird feeders near the shed filled. For now, we will enjoy the transition time from summer's heat to winter's coziness in front of the woodstove. We'll enjoy the warmth on days when it's available and adjust to the incoming cold on the wet and rainy days.

It's Fall. And I get to eat soup.

Friday evening, I should be making supper. Well, I am making supper but I have stalled. My body aches and I am tired. Tired of the aching, the lack of enthusiasm for cooking and finding food that nourishes richly both the body and the eyes. Tired of noise but unhappy with silence. Today has been a good day so I am not pleased with my reactions now.

My heart aches too these days. It is not easy to say goodbye. I cry easily and pray frequently.

And now I will get back to making supper. Life continues and there are joys to match the sorrow.

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It's a little late here and I've enjoyed these last two hours. For our homeschool group's meeting tomorrow I have been choosing hymns, folksongs and poems. It's been a lot of fun listening and reading. Yay to Youtube!

The final choices are:

Sur le Pont D'Avignon

Log Driver's Waltz

Great Is Thy Faithfulness

Praise To The Lord, The Almighty, The Lord of Creation

poetry by Carl Sandburg:

from "The People, Yes" (A father sees a son nearing manhood.)

Soup

Little Girl, Be Careful What You Say

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Our house when it was still a school. At least we think that's the case. There isn't much different about our current house. Makes us realize why the windows are so drafty--they're 70 years old. We saw this photo on a little placard at the local elementary school as part of a display of schools in the area. This year another elementary school is being combined with the first and they took down the photo. We were gutted as we'd not thought to take a picture of the photo. (We meet for church in the school.) What a gift to hear my Mom casually say that she'd taken a picture of it. We don't have the fence around the property or the bell in the tower although the tower is still there and one or two metal fence posts got left behind. The great big maple behind the house is actually two maples. One is left to us, the second having fallen down the day before we took possession.

It's fun to look at this piece of history. Odd though to realize the connection we have with what feels completely disconnected from us.


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We've been watching a monarch egg grow into a caterpillar, feeding it leaves to keep it growing. As we kept our eye on it we knew to watch for the J shape thanks to this beautiful post. So when I saw the J yesterday I got very excited. It changed overnight so we missed the whole transformation. But what a beautiful thing all wrapped up in green. I'm happy to continue watching the changes that will take place and look forward to the results.

Perhaps I'm just too busy.

In truth, this summer has been full. We have spent hours at the Lions Pool while the kidlets swam length after length for the swim team or learned new skills during lessons. They were so tired out from those activities that we rarely used our family pass for open swims. Since July started we have done little else in fact. While I watched the swimming from my lawn chair on the hill under the one shade tree I was able to visit with other moms also crammed in under the one shade tree. It's been a hot summer. Last year I had the same routine except that I remember it being peaceful and here's why: it was a cool summer last year and I did not sit under the one shade tree but down the hill a little on a blanket so as to be in the little bit of sun that there was. However, the moms (none of whom I knew) preferred to sit on the flat in their chairs at the top of the hill. I got lots of reading done last year. It was lovely. This year has been lovely in a different way. I know many of the moms and have been able to visit and strengthen relationships.

But I think the real reason for not posting much is that the routine has been so very different from school time. I have not wanted to spend as much time at a computer. The rhythm has been different. Now swimming is finished and for the next two weeks until school starts we will take a breather from the programmed while I continue to prepare for teaching.

Is busyness bad? I don't think it has to be. When it is a type of fullness and richness instead of overwhelming. When all the extra space is pushed out and I am squeezed to the edges--that is unhealthy. That is what I try to avoid. Sometimes I am successful and sometimes less so for a season. There is just so much out there that I want to enjoy...

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A thought for today

"One of my correspondents asked where one is to draw the line...I am unsure where the line ought to be drawn, or how to draw it. But it is an intelligent question, worth losing some sleep over....

...if we are ever again to have a world fit and pleasant for little children, we are surely going to have to draw the line where it is not easily drawn. We are going to have to learn to give up things that we have learned (in only a few years, after all) to "need." I am not an optimist; I am afraid that I won't live long enough to escape my bondage to the machines. Nevertheless, on every day left to me I will search my mind and circumstances for the means of escape. And I am not without hope. I knew a man who, in the age of chainsaws, went right on cutting his wood with a handsaw and an axe. He was a healthier and a saner man than I am . I shall let his memory trouble my thoughts."

~Wendell Berry

Comments?

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Picking Potatoes from the Pumpkin Patch

First tomatoes

Fresh picked squash blossoms. I have known that they are edible and as far as I can tell these are prime candidates for cooking. Since nobody else is home for me to offend I decide it's a good night to indulge my sense of adventure.

I looked up cooking options in my cookbooks of which I have a large selection. Stuff. Deep fry (tempura?) or sautee. Sauteeing seems easiest but I suspect that the tempura method would taste nicer. Stuffing I don't even consider.

I find a recipe for tempura. Decide that it's a large recipe for five blossoms even if I did halve or quarter it. And besides there's the oil to heat up and the amount of oil used doesn't change for five blossoms or fifty. Sautee it is.

Here they are sauteeing. Olive oil.

I made a soy/ginger sauce. Eating this was an enjoyable experience. The small one tasted best. It was eaten before I took the picture since it cooked fastest. As soon as they hit the plate they flattened and I immediately saw the benefits of stuffing. There are more growing in the garden. I could sample pumpkin and squash of various kinds. But I'm really not sure there's much point. Perhaps for a special meal where I want to impress. But I try not to do those kinds of meals anymore--the try to impress kind. I'd rather have friends who just enjoy getting together. Even if our meals end up impressive at times, I'd rather that not be the focus.

(Why is this next picture off to the side? Sorry.)

I followed up my "meal" with dessert: mango fried in butter, sprinkled with salt and drizzled with maple syrup. A gorgeous way to finish. I would have added blueberries but I didn't get around to it. Besides, they would have stained the rich yellow colour.

This was a fun experiment. I've posted more photos at our nature site.

And then there are the best laid plans.

We were on our way home Sunday evening. We were making good time, I was alert and ready for the next three hours of driving and a bonus visit with my sister since we could drive that far in one day leaving a mere three hours Monday morning to home.

And then the lights started flashing. CHECK ENGINE, CHECK ENGINE. Off and on, off and on with the temperature gauge suddenly at hot and hotter and just past an exit ramp. Next exit 7 miles. Unsure if it was better to drive as fast as we could those 7 miles or to slow the engine I struck a middle range and prayed hard. Those few minutes seemed interminable. I still don't know how long they took but the exit arrived and we drove off the highway aiming for the first parking spot in the first gas station. I made a mental note of relief as we passed the cluster of bikers thinking they might know something that would help. But first I went inside and asked the cashier if she knew of a mechanic....it's Sunday evening. Nobody will be open. To my surprise she made a number of logical and informed suggestions for me to check and then asked if I wanted her to help. Uh, yes please. As we're waving the steam and smoke away from my engine the two remaining bikers walked over yelling diagnoses and a third man strolled over giving the helpful directions to the hotel nearly next door where he was manager where he'd hold a room for me with a discounted price. Whew. The cashier sent me off with her mechanic's name and number, we grabbed our overnight bag and rain jackets and spent an unexpected evening in an adequate hotel with not much rest on my part. The kids slept of course. Morning couldn't come soon enough for me. By 7 am I was in touch with Pieman who had been working the night before, then spoke with CAA.

We decided I'd call the local mechanic. What a good decision!

Although in the end the news wasn't good--head gasket, water pump, timing belt replacement since it was overdue and the engine was in pieces anyway, a few other items--we were treated with every respect and kindness and generosity all day. The morning was spent at the mechanic's drinking his fresh coffee brewed just for me while we waited for the diagnosis and cost so as to decide if we should have him do the work or tow the car back to Canada or even to sell it to him and rent a car home. We decided he'd do the work and we'd come back to get the car next week. The sister I missed out on a sleepover with offered to drive the two hours to pick us up so we could still get in a sleepover and Pieman would pick us up the next morning (Tuesday and a three hour plus return drive for him). The afternoon found us walking to Subway and Walmart for lunch and some shopping, to Staples so the kids could play on their computers and then back 'home' to the mechanic's where Robin bought us ice cream and fudge and assured us our day would get better. Robin lives in the area and we chatted a little while she waited for her car to be worked on. She commented on how patient the kids were. I agreed and said they deserved a medal or some ice cream. Just before she left she said she had an odd question for us: what kind of ice cream do we like? She wouldn't even let me pay for it! I nearly cried at her caring of us.

So by the time we arrived home Tuesday afternoon I had left my car in a strange town in the care of strangers who were happy to look after it (for a small price of course--actually half what it would have cost us here in Canada), had enjoyed a lovely visit with my sister and her family and was very happy to be home even if the temperature change was drastic.

Pieman never looked so good.

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A little planning, a little reading as part of the planning, and a little playing here on the blog and the evening has passed pleasantly. The house will be quiet for the rest of the week and I know I will get more done before I meet my dear ones with fresh watermelon in hand to soothe their camped-out throats.

Who am I kidding? It is the grandparents whose throats and bodies will be camped-out. They too are my dear ones but it is the under-age crew I referred to at first. They will not be camped-out or swum-out but will be happy and tired and likely bug-bitten and sun-burned which will perhaps temper moods somewhat.

Before I arrive at their campsite I do hope to have a good part of our next year planned out. I also have time to work at scrapbooking and spend a good deal of time reading, meditating, journaling and praying. It might be a good idea for me to start with that and get to the planning later.

This is not a blog post of significance. But to those who might want to know what I am doing, here it is. Perhaps I'll write more another time.

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Life has been busy these past few weeks.

The last time I wrote I was looking forward to a few things: attending the annual Charlotte Mason education conference in Boiling Springs, North Carolina, wrapping up school before this conference, eating peas from the garden, visiting with my fabulous friends on the drive to and from the conference, sharing time with my parents in their lovely home.

The only thing left on this list is a visit with my parents.

While I've only had one or two peas from the garden so far, my friends are still fabulous even after many hours in a car together. And though the conference is over we have plans to get together again and since Charlotte Mason is always a topic of conversation as is school and education and children we have basically a conversation that never ends. ... Such is friendship. (Of course we don't talk only of education and children and C.Mason but I'll let you imagine the rest of the beauty.)

The conference was inspiring as usual. (Just one of the things I appreciate about Charlotte Mason and her educational philosophy.) To be in a place surrounded by hundreds of people who get education the same way I understand it can't help but be inspiring. To be close enough to these experts to learn so much from them and then to turn around and realize that I am able to help someone else. Wow. New ideas, new plans, hopes for this next year. I'm glad I took the time to think some of those out clearly while I was still away. It seems altogether too easy to fall back into the same patterns when I'm home. Many of the patterns I love and that can make it hard to see the ones I'd rather be rid of. When the disposable patterns are mingled with those I love it can also be hard to separate the two. But that is part of my growing.

K2 and CTM filled a clear bottle with water from the rain barrel yesterday in order to watch the mosquito larvae. It's fascinating. Thankfully the lid is on and although we don't know how much oxygen they need to survive we awoke this morning to find dozens of new little wrigglers and two more pupae. Ick. K2 thinks it not gross at all. Hmm. The animation in his face and voice is wonderful to watch and I love to hear his observations about this life form. Contrast it with the two minutes it took for a mother I was watching last week to teach her child to be afraid of flies. I tried to influence the little girl to wonder and watch but it was a lost battle before it started. She will likely never choose to observe mosquitoes grow from their egg mat into tiny transparent wrigglers then bigger dark wrigglers. Nor to figure out on her own that the straight wrigglers turn into round pupae and then into mosquitoes that were birthed in water yet are airborne, flying creatures.

This also is part of my growing as well as my childrens'.

I have a good life and am thankful.

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I have been looking after my little vegetable plot this past week carefully but not as anxiously as in past years. Funny. The garden is actually looking better this year--starting to look less wild.

And tonight the rain has come.

We have had little rain these past two weeks and while that's great for suntans it's not so good for the seeds. I have watered when needed, filling my buckets in the shower and letting them sit in the sun to warm before pouring the precious liquid carefully over the plants. Without rain to replenish it the rain barrel was emptied. I have watched with mixed feelings as the forecast has said first rain today, then sun today and rain tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. Mixed feelings because I prefer the sun.

My plants have drooped and I have watched the skies. If the prophets are right I will be watching the skies much this summer and I might even be successful in growing a good pepper crop if it stays hot for long enough. And hope the rain barrels stay full.

I feel somewhat like a farmer: anxious and hopeful all at once. I'm not sure how a farmer is supposed to feel. Am I a farmer? I till my soil, dig out the weeds, care for the plants, harvest my produce. Sounds farmer-ish but I would not truly claim that hard-working word. Gardener sounds more like me. And a gardener who throws seeds at the garden and shrugs that what comes up comes up after spending all winter planning. Is it worth the work? Isn't it easier to go to the store or even the farmer's market? I pondered this as I picked kale this morning. My kale that was extravagant last summer and not only survived the winter but came through tasting sweet. People said this was so--although they were talking about the taste after the first frosts, not months of snow later. But I didn't believe it.

Have you ever tasted new lettuce or tomatoes still warm from the sun? There is a great deal of satisfaction in eating a stew filled with vegetables you can claim as your own, that you've known from seed.

Come on over. I'll share.

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wedding day

One of the constants during the two weeks we stayed in our rented cottage was snooker. A mini table in the centre of the room provided the practice for what was coincidentally on the 'tele': the Snooker World Championship. At any time of the day we'd hear the clunk of balls and know that the boys were up. Then someone would ask about Robertson and Dott and we'd know that they'd been watching the championship. They had the lingo down and would talk about hitting it thin or thick.

It got even funnier to my non-snooker mind when on the wedding day I walked in to find most of the family, including the groom who had just stopped in for a little while, sitting, eating toast, watching the snooker, all dressed fully or partially in their finery.

However, to the church we did get and we were early to make sure. So was everyone else. A full 15 minutes before the ceremony started it seemed that the church was full and people restless and waiting. There came hush before the start. But even that was still with five minutes to go.
During the wait and the ceremony K2 and I shared the camera. He took some great photos including these flowers. I took the detail of the bridal gown which stopped just a couple feet from me since I had nearly front row seating and a perfect view.

The wedding was beautiful. The couple were aware of each other only and the building rang with the sounds of glory and honour to God for bringing them together. A picture perfect day in more ways than one since the rain held off until much later and the sun shone out. We felt honoured to be a part of it and humbled to have been able to make it, thanks to Dear Ones.

The fishing spot

One of the great expectations and delights of our cottage was the proximity of the fishing pond. Through farm gates and across two sheep fields we made our way to the caravan park at the bottom of the hill. Within sight of the road and yet completely secluded, the pond was, when we arrived, surrounded by daffodils. Each flower was a new variety and many seemed to be jewels floating in the greenery. As we adults wandered along the path around the pond we were overwhelmed by the beauty of one of my favourite flowers. The children were more concerned with the number and size of ripples in the lake and itched to run back and get their rods. We had just arrived though and the adults were more intent on a cup of tea and bed. Fishing would wait until the next day. And they made up for the wait throughout the next two weeks. But the daffodils faded fast so that we were thankful we had taken the time for them.

A Day With King Arthur

A steep walk down to the coast and the entrance to the ruins of Tintagel Castle, the supposed birthplace of King Arthur.

An old house built inside the original great hall of King Arthur's time. Not much left of either but you can see a shorter wall in the front of the house that extends farther out from the photo on either side.

Looking out from the ruined great house to more of the town's houses. Watch your toddlers! A mis-step here is fatal.

The view across the bay. Merlin's cave, where Arthur was found, is a cave underneath the hillside I'm standing on but similar in looks to those I'm looking at. There was quite a booming sound coming from the waves splashing in and out in those caves. The whole area has more recently than Arthur been a tin mine. It's long silent now.

Somehow though the silence on the hillside is not quiet. The wind buffets and blows. Birds fly and call: mostly seagulls flying below us standing high on the cliffs but also a hawk hovering silently until it was chased off by an upset gull. The whole landscape is rugged. Not what I had expected to see in England although I've read that it is so. The countryside is bare of all except a hardy grass that somehow withstands even the salt air. The rocks are slate and worn down but also sharp where new parts have broken off. We spent quite some time walking around looking at the various foundation ruins. A fire swept through some years ago and revealed about a hundred foundations that had been previously undiscovered. There is no sign now of the fire. As we walked we noticed the enormous variety of flowers. Small, tiny little flowers but tenaciously hanging on and spreading everywhere. How does this stuff survive up here? There is also evidence of animals living up here. Again. On what? When we asked an attendant later he said that in addition to what are likely mouse or vole holes there is a fox's den at the bottom of a cliff near the water. Huh!

We were sad to leave the area but the shop was closing in a few minutes and the boys had swords and spears to buy and we had grandparents to pick up from the tea shop. So much left unexplored--the church, the other building on the other hillside.

Oh, I kept the first for another day, but knowing how way leads on to way I doubted if I should ever be back. *

*Robert Frost

A better picture of Tintagel the Castle

The castle is the large ruins in the foreground with the steps-looking wall on the hillside. I'm not sure what the rounded ruins are in the centre. Way back on the right just out of sight behind the hill (near that rectangular building roof) is a Norman church. William of Normandy was actually the architect of many of these ruins.

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We fly early Wednesday morning. Early. But at least we fly with lots of time before the wedding; time to see family, to shop for missing wedding items, to sit and have coffee, to sleep, to laugh, to see. That was the plan from the start and these delays have only taken one day from us. We count ourselves lucky.

Here are some great photos of the volcano.


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In the middle of the night I awakened feeling I'd been asleep for hours. It was 42 minutes since I had turned my light out. And the time up to then had been slippery. While I toured the Metropolitan Museum of Art with the Kincaid children it slithered and crept. Although it was 9:36 when I started to read, somehow the clock said nearly midnight when I closed the book. Strange goings on.

So now, I sit here, book and journal both at hand. I have read, I have written, my mind has wandered the halls of Everywhere One Goes In the Night. I am still awake. I will not be so tomorrow, or rather later today, but really there's not much I can do about it now. Experience has taught me it's easier to just get up and do something than to lie abed tossing and sighing. Besides being up doesn't waken Pieman who has been working awfully hard. And one can usually find time for a nap on a Sunday afternoon. Usually.

I suppose I could make some soothing chamomile tea but then I'd have to use the facilities which would wake me again and besides 1) I don't like chamomile tea and 2) I don't have any. See reason 1. Coffee isn't a good option under the circumstances.

The good news is I didn't plant my frost sensitive seeds just before today's snow even though the weather this past month has been unseasonably gorgeous and seed-planting tempting.

So happy dreams to all you slumberers.

It is good to have a home, but one always feels drawn to that which appears more comfortable.

Words spoken today by a friend whose family seems, and truly is, thriving where it is.

How false my heart feels to want what it doesn't have even knowing that the apparent comfort of another life would be just as uncomfortable as this. And is discomfort so bad? Can not discontent compel me to seek contentment from the One source that satisfies? That is the grain I am taking from my friend's comment. A warning and a signpost to my heart.

The smell of bread rising, the sound of my washing machine servant working cheerfully, children protesting that geography is more important than math at this moment but doing the math anyway, these are all signs that I feel at home.

So hush, you heart.

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It's March.

Made it.

I've only worn out two sweaters this year and purchased two new ones to replace them. One new scarf, one shawl, new socks. The wood stove has made an enormous difference.

And apparently I've been vitamin D deficient and that is really, really important for me. Who knew? I am more thankful than you can know for those little, round, squishy pills.

CTM told me I'm doing better this year at not hibernating. "You don't just move from the stove to the chair in front of the fire to the furnace room to get more wood for the fire."

Thanks.

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flowers received

I'm thinking today about giving. Likely this post will not give you a complete picture of my thoughts since I am abbreviating them. But perhaps it will spark your own thought process.

When people ask me for something how willing am I to give? Requests for help, for my time or energy, for a 'thing' be it money or something else come up regularly. I'm not talking so much about the various organizations trying to raise money for this or the other project, but people's requests, the people around me, the people I run into in my normal circle of living. Especially when it is in my power to give, I would like to be one who gives easily, freely. When it is a sacrifice for me to give, even then I still think I should and I want that to be something that defines who I am. Joyfully.

I have lots of room to grow in this area but I don't want to forget my thoughts of today. I don't want to slip again into my habitual thoughts just because they're the habits I'm used to. I want to begin, to continue, the difficult task of creating new habits.

.

words

Why is it so easy to say words but so often difficult to say what we mean?

A night of unrest, pain. The speaker unaware of the result of words spoken. The words, in fact, heard completely incorrectly...added to negatively. Morning brings pain still, anger, hurt. Fortunately there also follows reconciliation.

I catch my breath at the ease with which the pain could have festered and grown into hate.