for me, it's hard to reconcile autumn. a time of abundance, but also emptiness. my cupboards and my belly may be full but autumn is always a painful reminder that it is my soul that needs to be fed.
9/15/09
abundance
sometimes it's hard to remember that this is the season of abundance. the opposite of what the native americans call the "hungry months" of winter. it's hard to remember to give thanks for the harvest when you notice how shadows have grown long and the light is changing.
for me, it's hard to reconcile autumn. a time of abundance, but also emptiness. my cupboards and my belly may be full but autumn is always a painful reminder that it is my soul that needs to be fed.
for me, it's hard to reconcile autumn. a time of abundance, but also emptiness. my cupboards and my belly may be full but autumn is always a painful reminder that it is my soul that needs to be fed.
8/2/09
four to six weeks
when the garden calls you must stop what you're doing and make pickles. the cukes were ready on friday. which meant all weekend plans had to be abandoned. i set to work saturday morning with the dew and the goldfinches. my mind was free to wander onto prettier things. i picked and picked. my head getting more and more clear with each snap of the stem. i haven't posted much lately about things i'm doing like gardening and growing up a fine young boy. i guess i'm just craving the realness of it. the dirty work of gardening and parenting and helping people die. i could tell you that i am so glad to drive that gravel road each day. it shakes my thoughts loose. i could tell you my baby nursed for the last time a month ago and i burned all my nursing bras. i could tell you that i am trying to cut back on wine and coffee, or that my biggest project this summer are the roads avery and i built in the "back 40". i could tell you that the people i build relationships with keep dying, or that i am still searching for the sacred. i could say a whole lot. but as paige has said more times than i can count, "i don't know where to begin. things are changing, i'm changing." and i am. and you are, we all are. we're all changing...
and the messages from the garden come as they always do. as a reminder to me to pay attention. as i neared the end of the row, i found a "mother cuke" with a small "baby cuke" attached to it at the stem. i was pleased that avery was occupied by the raspberries but i went to show him anyway. he instantly broke the baby away from the mama. and there it is. my babe and i are entering a new phase. and who knows where we'll be in four to six weeks when those pickles are ready.
and the messages from the garden come as they always do. as a reminder to me to pay attention. as i neared the end of the row, i found a "mother cuke" with a small "baby cuke" attached to it at the stem. i was pleased that avery was occupied by the raspberries but i went to show him anyway. he instantly broke the baby away from the mama. and there it is. my babe and i are entering a new phase. and who knows where we'll be in four to six weeks when those pickles are ready.
6/24/09
what were you doing?
i guess it's anne's fault i'm reminiscing today. what was i doing 1 year ago today? i have no idea. nothing memorable. not like getting ready for my wedding or anything. but i DO remember what i was doing 3 years ago today....ahhhhhhhh thailand.
remember anne? we swam out to the beach Leonardo DiCaprio made famous. it's a scary movie we just happened to watch during a thunderstorm on phi phi island and realized we had stayed at the same hotel in the movie. and it was just as scary as it looked. rats climbing in the rafters, standing toilets. disgusting beds. ahhhhhhhhh thailand.
i can't believe this day actually existed for me. look at the water. and that tan (i'm the one NEXT to anne).
what were you doing June 25th?
5/15/09
hostile takeover of my backyard
since i have already expounded on the evils of corporate seed mongers like Monsanto i'll spare you this time.
but, if i want to enjoy morels out of my backyard, or vegetables of any kind OTHER than genetically modified ones i may not have much longer....there is a bill about to be passed that may change this forever. if you love growing vegetables, farmer's markets, or local, organic food....
Please! Please! Please sign this petition! and tell congress to
LEAVE MY FOOD ALONE!
but, if i want to enjoy morels out of my backyard, or vegetables of any kind OTHER than genetically modified ones i may not have much longer....there is a bill about to be passed that may change this forever. if you love growing vegetables, farmer's markets, or local, organic food....
Please! Please! Please sign this petition! and tell congress to
LEAVE MY FOOD ALONE!
5/8/09
morels and macro mode
in my last post i eluded to the fact that my camera was on the "fritz." actually, it doesn't focus. unless of course it's in macro mode. i have to get very, very close to whatever i want to shoot. i thought this was a perfect metaphor for what i most need in my life at present. to slow down. to notice things. small things. details.
having a small person so low to the ground is great for finding such details. a robin's egg fallen from her nest (i tried to put it back, but it was cracked and i think she kicked it out). the inside of an orchid flower. foresythia branches in a vase. it helps me and my big-picture brain. it seems i'm somewhat freakish in my ability to create an entire lifetime in a few short minutes. all the while avery is tirelessly trying to focus my attention. on the details.
just the other day, during a break from planting at the farm we were out having lunch in roseann's woods. while the adults talked about the politics of food, and the global crisis of industrial farming, moving to sustainability (blah, blah, blah) avery walks over to me innocently with a a morel mushroom in his hand.
"what i found mama" he exclaimed. we all cheered for joy! a morel! right under our feet. he led me right to where he found it, by a log with at least a dozen other morels, just waiting for some one who is awake to see them.
we can't see the morels for the trees people.
and i have so much to learn my friends.
4/29/09
like a cloud
i am so excited about our new sofa. avery loves it too! he is two now and one sofa was not enough for this guy. seriously trucks and trailers and tractors are outnumbering the furniture. so, now we have two. there is a hilarious story about this sofa. i'll tell you some other time. but i'm too busy rearranging my living room. i love adding new things with great stories to our home. i think everything should have a story. like the bra plant. (that's another post entirely). anyway, i'm sure many of you can appreciate my excitement over this sofa. and if not, well then you obviously don't get me. it is totally cool and totally white vinyl.
like a little white cloud.
sorry about the poor photo, it's from my phone. my camera is on the fritz. another post on that too!
like a little white cloud.
sorry about the poor photo, it's from my phone. my camera is on the fritz. another post on that too!
3/31/09
spring?!
it's hard not to be a bit pissy about this weather. but then i realize, that as long as his fingers aren't going to stick to the swing set (he hasn't attempted to lick anything yet!) why not go to the park? so what if it's april and snowing?!?!?!
i cannot tell you how happy i am to be able to walk 2 blocks to the park. i had surgery on my leg 2 weeks ago. nothing major, just a little thing called an "osteochondroma" which had to be cut off my femur! i have a scar, which i'm not pumped about, but hey at least it's not cancer! (i got the pathology report back this week).
so, being cancer-free (note: i did not actually HAVE cancer, I just THOUGHT for sure i DID) has really made me think that life is too short not to walk to the park. everyday. even if you get those stupid little pebble rock things up in your shoes. and even if you just want to stay home and watch ellen and drink coffee. and even if it's snowing.
i cannot tell you how happy i am to be able to walk 2 blocks to the park. i had surgery on my leg 2 weeks ago. nothing major, just a little thing called an "osteochondroma" which had to be cut off my femur! i have a scar, which i'm not pumped about, but hey at least it's not cancer! (i got the pathology report back this week).
so, being cancer-free (note: i did not actually HAVE cancer, I just THOUGHT for sure i DID) has really made me think that life is too short not to walk to the park. everyday. even if you get those stupid little pebble rock things up in your shoes. and even if you just want to stay home and watch ellen and drink coffee. and even if it's snowing.
3/3/09
2/5/09
necessary winter
it goes without saying that death is a necessary part of life. of living. winter is such a metaphorical death. everything must die to be born anew each spring. but we humans seem to endure the winter. for the most part.
some don't. i have lost half of my hospice patients in january alone. i hope i die in january. i was born in january. why would i not die then too? i think about death a lot. probably more than the average person. goes with the territory i guess. i am fascinated by it. by the patterns of how and when people die. by the patterns of how people around me are living too. how we are affected by the seasons and by death itself. parts of people must die, even relationships must die to make room. . . .
recently a friend told me that someone said to her, "you're trying to make it summer, but it's not." she was trying to tell my friend it is not the season for new love. it's not the season for much of anything. that is if productivity, outward growth, or "progress" are your only goals. but this winter i've learned from the people that i have helped die that life is so much more than all those external, materialistic, capitalistic, individualistic lies.
and for the first time, i'm happy for this winter. the necessary winter.
for us gardeners the winter can be a long, lonely process. but for those who seek solace in the winter, there is hope. here are some pictures of my dad's christmas tree. his "winter garden."
what do you grow in your winter garden?
.
some don't. i have lost half of my hospice patients in january alone. i hope i die in january. i was born in january. why would i not die then too? i think about death a lot. probably more than the average person. goes with the territory i guess. i am fascinated by it. by the patterns of how and when people die. by the patterns of how people around me are living too. how we are affected by the seasons and by death itself. parts of people must die, even relationships must die to make room. . . .
recently a friend told me that someone said to her, "you're trying to make it summer, but it's not." she was trying to tell my friend it is not the season for new love. it's not the season for much of anything. that is if productivity, outward growth, or "progress" are your only goals. but this winter i've learned from the people that i have helped die that life is so much more than all those external, materialistic, capitalistic, individualistic lies.
and for the first time, i'm happy for this winter. the necessary winter.
for us gardeners the winter can be a long, lonely process. but for those who seek solace in the winter, there is hope. here are some pictures of my dad's christmas tree. his "winter garden."
what do you grow in your winter garden?
.
12/22/08
December 22, 2007
one year ago today.
little reminders are everywhere.
if we just wait for them.
i slipped my hand into the pocket of the wool pants i haven't worn since the day we buried her.
i felt her immediately.
inside a silk hankie, like the ones she used
to stick up her shirt sleeve.
little bouquets of flowers
poking out at her wrist.
we each took one that day.
as we laid her to rest.
everything is different without her on earth but everything is just as lovely as she left it.
little lovelies everywhere.
and inside my pocket.
little reminders are everywhere.
if we just wait for them.
i slipped my hand into the pocket of the wool pants i haven't worn since the day we buried her.
i felt her immediately.
inside a silk hankie, like the ones she used
to stick up her shirt sleeve.
little bouquets of flowers
poking out at her wrist.
we each took one that day.
as we laid her to rest.
everything is different without her on earth but everything is just as lovely as she left it.
little lovelies everywhere.
and inside my pocket.
11/15/08
another blog....
10/14/08
right before he ate it
everything goes in his mouth these days....nothing is off limits (yes, even dog poop). this phone photo was taken right before he ate (tried to eat) this poor grasshopper. don't know which is worse, poop or insects?
9/29/08
from where i stand
yeah i know. i've been a lame blogger. but it's harvest time people. AND we're on the verge of a potential economic collapse. if the great depression does hit, at least we'll have food to eat. thanks to avery's help in the garden. ha! he generally runs around snatching stuff out of my bucket and eating it faster than i can pick it. i love that some of his first words were "broccoli" "raspberry" and "apple." i can't believe the summer is over....we're clearing fields and my mind wanders to thoughts of snow and cocoa and sledding and watching avery become a real little person...
here's my little helper standin' on a pitch fork. i took it on my phone, but it could never capture the bliss of the moment he discovered this amazing "ride" and what a ride it's been...
here's my little helper standin' on a pitch fork. i took it on my phone, but it could never capture the bliss of the moment he discovered this amazing "ride" and what a ride it's been...
7/23/08
you can't eat money
my garden defies capitalism. i didn't purchase a single vegetable this year. i was gifted several tomato plants, some onion starts, broccoli seedlings, and a packet of basil seeds. everything else in my little circle garden is volunteer. a friend of mine had never heard this term, which i thought was common knowledge since i've been around farming my whole life. what it means is that the plant was NOT "intentionally planted." a bird may have come along after eating a seed from another garden and pooped it out in just the right spot and it took hold in my backyard soil. or more likely it was my heaping compost pile, rich in vegetables in various states of decay, was spread over the garden in the spring and those determined little seeds decided to sprout. simply, this is nature doing its job.
matt likes to point out my communist tendencies. my garden is no exception.
there are several varieties of tomatoes, i won't know exactly which kind until they ripen. the hopi red dye amaranth, and dill are prolific volunteers this year. there is summer squash and peppers and even petunias (i have no idea where they would have come from). it's lush and vibrant and colorful. and all purely accidental.
i love the wildness that exists here among the carefully manicured lawns all around me. i watch my neighbor and his never ending battle with creeping charlie (that is another post all together my friends). and i think 'what if we spent more time trying to cultivate things to grow, rather than trying to kill them?'
i ponder these things as i read "animal, vegetable, miracle" by barbara kingsolver. a book that is changing my life. i'm in the part where they are talking about seeds. and genetically modified seeds. and how Monsanto spends millions of dollars each year to prosecute seed savers (those farmers that intentionally or unitentionally try to save seeds from this crop to plant next year). those communistis! don't they know this is america, home of the capitalist regime? one farmer was sued for everything he had because they found "their" seeds in his field. as if you could patent a seed!
but they can and they do. and since monsanto has taken over the majority of all seeds sales in the US, the variety of vegetables available has dropped from 18,000 varieties to 600 in 20 years. there are actually extinct and endangered seeds.
but who cares about heirloom tomatoes when all you need to make most of what america eats is some corn? i for one do. i don't want a dried out, tasteless tomato that has traveled over 1,500 miles in a gas-gusling semi when i have savored the warm succulent purple-hued flesh of a brandywine fresh off the vine. no. i care about seeds. and luckily so do people like the folks at seedsavers and CSA farms.
now, i'm not perfect. i would like to say i only eat locally grown food. but the reality is, i don't. the past 4 years since working at Valley Creek Farm i've learned more than i ever knew about food systems and the social, economic and political nature of our food chain. and it's enough to know that people, we need to wake up!
how long it will take before we realize that we can't eat money?
matt likes to point out my communist tendencies. my garden is no exception.
there are several varieties of tomatoes, i won't know exactly which kind until they ripen. the hopi red dye amaranth, and dill are prolific volunteers this year. there is summer squash and peppers and even petunias (i have no idea where they would have come from). it's lush and vibrant and colorful. and all purely accidental.
i love the wildness that exists here among the carefully manicured lawns all around me. i watch my neighbor and his never ending battle with creeping charlie (that is another post all together my friends). and i think 'what if we spent more time trying to cultivate things to grow, rather than trying to kill them?'
i ponder these things as i read "animal, vegetable, miracle" by barbara kingsolver. a book that is changing my life. i'm in the part where they are talking about seeds. and genetically modified seeds. and how Monsanto spends millions of dollars each year to prosecute seed savers (those farmers that intentionally or unitentionally try to save seeds from this crop to plant next year). those communistis! don't they know this is america, home of the capitalist regime? one farmer was sued for everything he had because they found "their" seeds in his field. as if you could patent a seed!
but they can and they do. and since monsanto has taken over the majority of all seeds sales in the US, the variety of vegetables available has dropped from 18,000 varieties to 600 in 20 years. there are actually extinct and endangered seeds.
but who cares about heirloom tomatoes when all you need to make most of what america eats is some corn? i for one do. i don't want a dried out, tasteless tomato that has traveled over 1,500 miles in a gas-gusling semi when i have savored the warm succulent purple-hued flesh of a brandywine fresh off the vine. no. i care about seeds. and luckily so do people like the folks at seedsavers and CSA farms.
now, i'm not perfect. i would like to say i only eat locally grown food. but the reality is, i don't. the past 4 years since working at Valley Creek Farm i've learned more than i ever knew about food systems and the social, economic and political nature of our food chain. and it's enough to know that people, we need to wake up!
how long it will take before we realize that we can't eat money?
7/7/08
we've been super busy preparing for our first furniture show and sale this weekend.
we are totally flying by the seat of our pants. which is pretty much par for the course with us and the business. i can't believe just 5 years ago we jumped into this endeavor called eastvold custom woodworks. just me and matt in a basement shop in northeast minneapolis. i still remember the smell of that old shop. the old cargo elevator. staining and varnishing in the weedy side lot as local drunks bicycled by. and of course the occasional cabinet getting rained on! and sometimes i'd stop at the gas station and pick up junk food and bring it back to the shop and we'd tailgate on the back of matt's dad's old red pickup out front in the summer heat.
...ahh...the good ol days.
what we lacked in knowledge about running a business, design, and even building we made up for in sheer hard work. matt's been non-stop since 2003. and most of the time i was right there with him. i'll never forget being 8 months pregnant and on the jobsite laying on my side screwing toekick on. the homeowners would be home from vaction and it had to be done. finally at midnight i told him i had to go home. it was NOT the first all-nighter he had planned. nor was it the last.
we still work hard, but things have changed. now there is a shiny new red pick up. a cargo van instead of the cargo elevator. a brand new shop. 8 employees. employee health insurance plans. and of course matt is still non-stop.
but we haven't done it alone. no ma'am. none of this would be possible without our wonderful community of family and friends. a huge thanks to those that have made this possible (tia and souliyahn for introducing us to dave brach, martha, scott and connie, and who could forget the early days with Layo and kevin that first summer. and of course our pals luke and mull always willing to pitch in and who are STILL willing to pitch in, in a pinch. and jake for his never ending web and postcard designs, paige for taking photos, spengler for his ideas and of course "our amazing crew" joram, ben, kai, matt h., kasey, anthony, doug and doug...and everyone else who has been with us along the way!)
so please, please come to the show. it will be lots of fun. mingling. wine. friends. and lots of stuff to see.
and at the end of it all, we'll come home and collapse on our beautiful bed. built with our own hard-working hands. together. and that makes it all worth it.
6/25/08
amazing. full. and beautiful.
life is amazing. full. and beautiful. i've been so caught up in things. so caught up in things i'm forgetting about anything but what is right in front of me. how did that happen? i don't even ask that question anymore. i'm gardening. cooking. farming. drinking cosmos. arranging flowers. watching avery walk, water the flowers, kick a ball, pick strawberries. he picks them and pops them whole into his little mouth. i am getting lost in the moment. moment after moment, day after day after day...and soon it will be July.
this little spot we call home is heaven. lush with my labor. native plants mixed with vegetables, mixed with berries, mixed with heavy whipping cream. mint mixed into mojitos. sun mixed with sweat. i am happy. here. and now.
there is so much bounty in this season. i forget that just a few months ago nothing was green yet. or ripe yet. now, rhubarb and strawberry jam lines my counter. greens, spinach, lettuce, mizuna, arugula, green onions pack the fridge. peonies on every window sill. it's this mystery that makes life amazing. full. and beautiful.
here is a recipe for cilantro pesto...oh my god! you have got to make it. tonight.
2 cups packed cilantro leaves
3-4 garlic cloves
1/2 cup grated parmesan
handful of macadamia nuts (toasted)
olive oil
salt to taste
1/2 cup sour cream (added at the end)
Mix all in a food processor and blend. add the oil as you mix until a nice paste. Add the sour cream at the end. toss with pasta. Enjoy!
this little spot we call home is heaven. lush with my labor. native plants mixed with vegetables, mixed with berries, mixed with heavy whipping cream. mint mixed into mojitos. sun mixed with sweat. i am happy. here. and now.
there is so much bounty in this season. i forget that just a few months ago nothing was green yet. or ripe yet. now, rhubarb and strawberry jam lines my counter. greens, spinach, lettuce, mizuna, arugula, green onions pack the fridge. peonies on every window sill. it's this mystery that makes life amazing. full. and beautiful.
here is a recipe for cilantro pesto...oh my god! you have got to make it. tonight.
2 cups packed cilantro leaves
3-4 garlic cloves
1/2 cup grated parmesan
handful of macadamia nuts (toasted)
olive oil
salt to taste
1/2 cup sour cream (added at the end)
Mix all in a food processor and blend. add the oil as you mix until a nice paste. Add the sour cream at the end. toss with pasta. Enjoy!
6/3/08
something like that
yesterday my day went something like this:
woke up to smiling baby sitting next to me pointing at the window signing "please" which means, "please mom, get up, take me downstairs and outside so I can go see the birds." but it was raining so the day didn't start off in the usual way.
i hate rain.
so we're stuck inside. just the two of us. i start to make some coffee. avery pees his pants 3 times and that was just before breakfast. most of which ended up on the floor, not in his mouth. several touch and feel books later, he pees his pants AGAIN. the elimination communication seems to be working...only sort of. he pees first, then he grunts as if to tell us "hey check out this sweet puddle on the floor."
finally, it's nap time. also known as: scrub the mango, grapes and kiwi chunks off the floor, do the dishes, start a load of laundry, make the bed, pay some bills, check in with work, pick up books, write a letter, check on my grass seed, do another load of laundry, missed some of breakfast on the wall, scrub that too.....oh, he's awake.
stops raining, so there is only one thing to do, head to the farm. but it's muddy and buggy. but still i press on. have many flowers to plant. avery proceeds to spill a whole jug of water on himself (i have brought no extra clothes) and then sit on several of the new little flowers i have planted. he does well, really. he is patient as i work for an hour or two. but by the time i get my work done, his face is swollen from so many knat bites and he is very, very dirty. and crabby. i strip him down before i put him in the car. i'm exhausted, but HE is the one that gets to pass out on the way home.
another nap means i can actually get myself cleaned up. there is mud between my toes, and under my nails, and in my hair. i shower and THEN bathe. ahhh. that feels nice. then matt comes home and finds me in there. i can sense his judgment, "what do you DO all day anyway??? take baths and nap???" but he doesn't dare say it.
so i say, "how was your day?" but when he launches in on the stress of owning your own business, my eyes glaze over and wish i could tell him what i really meant to say was, "could you bring me a glass of wine, order some indian take out food, and when the baby wakes up take him for a walk, and come back on friday?"
or something like that.
woke up to smiling baby sitting next to me pointing at the window signing "please" which means, "please mom, get up, take me downstairs and outside so I can go see the birds." but it was raining so the day didn't start off in the usual way.
i hate rain.
so we're stuck inside. just the two of us. i start to make some coffee. avery pees his pants 3 times and that was just before breakfast. most of which ended up on the floor, not in his mouth. several touch and feel books later, he pees his pants AGAIN. the elimination communication seems to be working...only sort of. he pees first, then he grunts as if to tell us "hey check out this sweet puddle on the floor."
finally, it's nap time. also known as: scrub the mango, grapes and kiwi chunks off the floor, do the dishes, start a load of laundry, make the bed, pay some bills, check in with work, pick up books, write a letter, check on my grass seed, do another load of laundry, missed some of breakfast on the wall, scrub that too.....oh, he's awake.
stops raining, so there is only one thing to do, head to the farm. but it's muddy and buggy. but still i press on. have many flowers to plant. avery proceeds to spill a whole jug of water on himself (i have brought no extra clothes) and then sit on several of the new little flowers i have planted. he does well, really. he is patient as i work for an hour or two. but by the time i get my work done, his face is swollen from so many knat bites and he is very, very dirty. and crabby. i strip him down before i put him in the car. i'm exhausted, but HE is the one that gets to pass out on the way home.
another nap means i can actually get myself cleaned up. there is mud between my toes, and under my nails, and in my hair. i shower and THEN bathe. ahhh. that feels nice. then matt comes home and finds me in there. i can sense his judgment, "what do you DO all day anyway??? take baths and nap???" but he doesn't dare say it.
so i say, "how was your day?" but when he launches in on the stress of owning your own business, my eyes glaze over and wish i could tell him what i really meant to say was, "could you bring me a glass of wine, order some indian take out food, and when the baby wakes up take him for a walk, and come back on friday?"
or something like that.
5/8/08
sheparding a son
i heard a sermon the other day about sheep. the pastor is baptist, but i like him. (note: sarcasm having married a man who attended a baptist college, along with my other favorite people). anyway, as i was saying, he was talking about sheep. sheep aren't "dumb like cows" he said, which can be pushed in any direction by a few dogs and maybe a cowboy or two. no, sheep are smart. they resist pushing. they need to be led.
insert shepard.
it is the shepard's job to lead the herd. the sheep learn to trust their shepard intimately. if he/she leads them up a mountain, they follow. through a rushing stream, they are right behind. they need this steady-handed direction. and it is only through gentle, loving guidance that the shepard has any luck with the sheep. any sense that they are being pushed and they run around in a frenzy. which made me think of my current toddler situation.
it's a battle of wills at times. to eat. to pee. to sleep. to poop. to stop. to go. to listen. . .
then i realized that the frenzy is my own creation. in my best efforts as a cowgirl, i just cannot seem to corral my little cow. but that's the problem. i need to see him as a sheep. and i his shepard. abandoning the idea of control and pushing may take me my son's entire lifetime. and i wonder will i be able to lead him through this life as his loyal shepard?
4/30/08
farm
you know how some people are just "farm." at least that's what i've come to call them. lovingly of course. matt is one of them. they just have this way about them. they aren't pretentious, they pay attention to things, they are simple, kind folk who know and love the land. truth be told, i have always wanted to be more "farm." which is why i'm drawn to people like matt and roseann and olivia and gene who work on the organic farm where i've spent the last 3 summers.
i don't think you can ever really become "farm," although i've tried. i think you are born that way. and of course, the obvious factor of growing up on a farm. it is a way of life that only other farmers can know. i wish i could know.
yesterday i took the long gravel driveway down to his house. he was in bed, his family all around him. these were farm folk. plain and true. they knew his death would be soon. and as i watched this young man and his father, i began to feel the heat of emotion rise from deep within me. i tried to stop it, but as i looked at this old farmer, his glasses filthy and smudged with dried tears and dirt, i began to cry. this old farmer was losing his son and he wept and wept and wept. the tears that only a parent can shed for their child.
i looked out the window to gain some composure and noticed the fields had been turned over since i was there last. planting has begun. and this farmer was shedding the tears that would soon water and replenish the soil. the soil that had been the life blood of this family for over a hundred years.
these days are fleeting. this life such a mystery. i tried to remember this story when my own little farmer woke me today at 5:15. sometimes i get so crabby. sometimes i just wish he would sleep. but the sun is rising earlier and he knows it. he will be "farm." at least i hope. i'll raise him that way as much as i can. . . .
always trying to remember that this life is that long gravel road, leading us home.
i don't think you can ever really become "farm," although i've tried. i think you are born that way. and of course, the obvious factor of growing up on a farm. it is a way of life that only other farmers can know. i wish i could know.
yesterday i took the long gravel driveway down to his house. he was in bed, his family all around him. these were farm folk. plain and true. they knew his death would be soon. and as i watched this young man and his father, i began to feel the heat of emotion rise from deep within me. i tried to stop it, but as i looked at this old farmer, his glasses filthy and smudged with dried tears and dirt, i began to cry. this old farmer was losing his son and he wept and wept and wept. the tears that only a parent can shed for their child.
i looked out the window to gain some composure and noticed the fields had been turned over since i was there last. planting has begun. and this farmer was shedding the tears that would soon water and replenish the soil. the soil that had been the life blood of this family for over a hundred years.
these days are fleeting. this life such a mystery. i tried to remember this story when my own little farmer woke me today at 5:15. sometimes i get so crabby. sometimes i just wish he would sleep. but the sun is rising earlier and he knows it. he will be "farm." at least i hope. i'll raise him that way as much as i can. . . .
always trying to remember that this life is that long gravel road, leading us home.
4/22/08
oops i forgot to feed the baby
hey anne (and jake) this post is for you.
my baby is 1. saturday was the first birthday. pretty monumentous. but during the course of the busy day, busy for the adults anyway, i forgot to feed the baby. oops. and so many times i felt like i should blog about the birthday, post pictures of the birthday, be "emotional" about the first birthday, but really, it's just another day.
sure i remembered to sit and reflect at 10:23 am, with matt in the bathroom (on the toilet in fact) where it all took place, but the rest of the day was just sort of a blurr. five generations worth of blurriness.
the edges of my days just all seem to run together now. but, we made it one full rotation around the sun together. each day blurring into night 365 times. 365 lullabies. 365 good morning kisses. 365 days of spinning through space.
together.
my baby is 1. saturday was the first birthday. pretty monumentous. but during the course of the busy day, busy for the adults anyway, i forgot to feed the baby. oops. and so many times i felt like i should blog about the birthday, post pictures of the birthday, be "emotional" about the first birthday, but really, it's just another day.
sure i remembered to sit and reflect at 10:23 am, with matt in the bathroom (on the toilet in fact) where it all took place, but the rest of the day was just sort of a blurr. five generations worth of blurriness.
the edges of my days just all seem to run together now. but, we made it one full rotation around the sun together. each day blurring into night 365 times. 365 lullabies. 365 good morning kisses. 365 days of spinning through space.
together.
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