Sunday, May 28, 2017

Day story

May


Outside my window, it's overcast. One of the things I love about living in the woods is that I hardly even feel the rain unless I'm in the open spaces. I can work in the big front garden and not get drenched. Chances of rain and thunderstorms this weekend and lately. Right now, a break from mulching. So far, just the front strip and house garden beds nearly finished. To do: the big front garden and weed the pool rock gardens.

Giving thanks for this time at home. It's been a whirlwind of a year. Funeral February. My sister in the hospital in March. And these past two months, near daily visits with her as she works through unexpected set backs. It's a bigger journey than we expected--but I'm thankful she's closer and for our time together. I'm thankful for the people I've met as a result of the unexpected. I appreciate even more the time at home. It is a new level of contentment to clean and do laundry. Callouses on my hands from shoveling mulch--I love the beauty after the work. This is living. The sweat and aches. The life. The new relationships. The learning. This is living.

In the school room, we are wrapping up a school year that started with a predictable rhythm and ended in grace. It was such a relief to realize that despite two funerals and a sister's health crisis this year, we were able to keep up. Just grading to do, and stretching out math drills for Erin. Seriously considering a year-round approach. I have my book lists made up for fifth and ninth grades. Wow. Lanie starts high school. It goes so fast.

From the kitchen, a holiday weekend and grilling. It's just us at home, so no cookouts or company. But I have a pack of hot dogs and a cut of steak. So thankful we are together. So thankful for this hunkering close. Respite. Restore.

I am thinking long on balance and busy seasons. Thinking long on the best yes. Grateful for grace.

I don't want to forget my kids' company while we visit with my sister. One or both will come along. It means so much to me to have them with me. I don't want to forget my husband's understanding and support. I don't want to forget the friends in trenches with me--they have no idea how they lighten this load just by listening.

I am reading "The Hunchback of Notre Dame" by Victor Hugo. A student (from ancients the other year) commented it was a favorite of his, and so I checked it out. I love to read books that are someone's favorite. Also reading "Mountain Born" by Elizabeth Yates, "Jacob Have I Loved" by Katherine Paterson, and "The Kindness Challenge" by Shaunti Feldhahn. I have a few others waiting, and a few used gems on the way in the mail, including "Experiencing Grief" by H. Norman Wright--whose book "Recovering From Losses in Life" was instrumental in grieving broken relationships and expectations.

Around the house, it's the green season. I'm still uncertain whatever happened to February, March, and April. But here we are, the end of May. A mountain of mulch beside the big garden, and weeds-weeds-weeds in many garden beds. This weekend, a slow and steady effort to catch up. It's good, grounding work. A recent woods walk with Erin and Suzanne--along thirty-year-old trails, felt like being carried along the veins of life itself. The green, everywhere, so lush and full of life. Yes, this is living. Inhaling deeply.

A view of my favorite things:
The gorgeous, glowy setting sun after the storm

This man. These kids.
Blessed. With love. And laughter. Grateful.


Our neighbors. And Cubby!

The nursery cat that stole our hearts

Squirrel proof. Bah!

Summer hustle


At the table, the four of us. And in my heart, hopes and plans of bonfires, poetry teas, field picnics, summer splashes, and woods walks. Time together, a love language, and looking to live true to that.

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