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

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