A day by the river

A friend is attending a Van Gogh immersion experience. I had not heard of it until she mentioned it, and then, of course, it showed up on my media feed. I'm sure there's no relation to our conversation and the coincidence of omnipotence in media. (Just like when I talked about outdoor green paint for the coop with Erin and then she started receiving adds for outdoor green paint.)

I bought tickets for four to attend the experience. 

Shane is excited that all of us will go together. I am too. 

I received a link to a preview and clicked it. 

This dark morning. At my table. I opened a (different) link that took me to (a different experience of:) The Langlois Bridge at Arles with Women Washing. Piano music played softly while I looked around. I grasped and dragged the scene to look right and left, up and down. The music played, familiar (a classical piece Lanie would likely recognize by name and composer, but I don't). Suddenly I felt choked by emotion. 

Choked by the past. How the world was a waiting buffet--and like Linda, I looked forward to a next season to sample and savor the offerings. When you think you have all the time in the world. But come to find you don't.

Choked by the present. The video of storm troopers denouncing the violence against women in these times--cut by images of their very own forces committing violence against women and caught on film. The hidden hypocrisy. The blatant hypocrisy. An older woman shoved to the ground. Two elderly women on a bench, being encircled by jackals. Another woman grabbing his choking hands off her neck, trying to speak to a man who was far beyond reason. 

Choked ...

I notice the bold golds and yellows, the broad strokes of a brush. The post-impressionistic dream. I look around and the images are ghosts, cartoon-ish. Oh, to enter that immersive world for an hour.

Dawn breaks. I lace up and run. I jump. I do physio. I box. I listen to a little Nirvana (Smells Like Teen Spirit). 

Back to reality.

My eyes feel heavy and tired. Insomnia. I make my smile big and say positive and kind things, hoping I come across sincere.

I buy flowers for a neighbor. 

Flowers for a friend. 

Flowers for my kitchen, too. 

And maple butter, plus one to share.

This song in my head by One Republic: Counting Stars. You can also listen to it on repeat.

And still counting ... (15,603-15,696)

 for a rogue chicken that got back in the run, grace, a pretty necklace she bought with her own earnings

back-to-school books in the mail, a day for planning, notebooks readied for high school and college, her really good orientation day, homemade ice cream sandwiches

Nathan's vocal delight at biting into the ice cream sandwich, friends at the table, a mac-n-cheese convert, sleepovers, a call with Tracey

Terry's call, Linda's life, memories of her at our table, that we are good enough because of Christ, all the years we had with Linda

a message to be unbreakable, texts with Lisa, determination, faith, strength

truth, green smoothies, seeds from the farm store, summer thunderstorms, five-mile days

a hair appointment, frozen blueberries, the old man who escorted me to the puppy pee pads, the woman who chatted me about Rhode Island Reds, Trader Joe's gf hamburger rolls

cuddly chickens, beautiful white flowers, the order made by her brother from Bob and Larry, all the pictures of her life before I knew her, time with her siblings to hear stories

the scent of incense in the church, the deep bellows of the organ playing, witness to her life and legacy, for her family who embraced me and mine, the white rose at the graveside

for Sandy--and I don't even know her relation--who turned to hug me when she heard my name, for a family that comforted me too because they knew, for her spot next to her husband, for vanilla ice cream, texts from Anita 

chickens in the grass free ranging, Ruth always at my feet, Lanie's first week on campus, white paint and green paint for the coop and run, rest days to rest

all the naps, bare feet on September ground, the chill of a morning, the stunning sharpness of stars in the sky, a last pair of shoes in my size

a long weekend with my people, seven miles, clean clothes, a vinyl floor, a coop name

apple cider, apple cider donuts on a first day at homeschool, a break from the negative stream of other people's thoughts, faith, Christy

a finished coop and run, the birds' first week outside, dark chocolate from Aldi, Trader Joe's broccoli and kale salad, iced water after the long run

books to read, books to sell, wood delivered, shopping with Erin, shoes she liked a lot 

the weekend before co-op excitement, a week's worth of science lessons completed, school in the school room on the couch, my role as the helper at co-op, a library run down the street afterward

Lanie's good start to college, people she's met in her classes, her stories of the fun stuff, new rhythms, new normal

Jesus, solar chargers, super early mornings on the weekend, new studies, Lisa T's "no, never"

peace in the face of the storm

Thoughts on the finish, part two

We celebrated Lanie with a solo piano recital and reception, which is how she wanted it instead of a graduation ceremony and party. The recital fit her because she loves playing, and she loved having so many people she loved gathered together to hear it: dear friends from church, childhood, family and friends that are practically family, people from her tribe in rep class, and even a beloved math teacher. 

I assembled a bouquet of white roses and baby's breath--a big one to make up for all the years I sucked as a dance mom and forgot to get flowers. We had gluten-free cakes, cupcakes and macarons. We gathered together in a cozy space afterwards, and I tried to make it to everyone and greet them. It was such a lovely time. And Lanie was beautiful in her dress, the very best was her glowing smile.

People homeschool for all different reasons: to escape bullying, to have a religious influence, to protect their kids from perceived threats to their hearts and spirits. We chose it because of Lanie's personality and how she thrived in smaller settings, because she was already reading at four, and because I felt like kids needed a good night's sleep (a neighbor's daughter was on the bus at 7 a.m. and falling asleep at home before dinner while a school closer to us but not in our district started at the more reasonable hour of 9 a.m.). 

We knew a homeschooling family who introduced us to their co-op and we joined. Some of my dearest friends I've met through my kids, and Beckie and Nora are still women I can pick up with even after long silences. I also count homeschool moms Michi, Becky, and Sharon as dear friends. (I never realized how many Becky variations I've known! Haha)

Co-ops were no safe haven from the world. Even under a Christian name, we still witnessed bullying, anger issues, and even tutors who didn't seem like they wanted to be teaching or even liked kids. Some tutors and students brought their best. Some tutors and students did not. When I taught, I found I spent all my energy in the classroom and had little left in reserve to finish out my day. I was glad when we were all at home and could design our own rhythm. I was also super glad when I was able to hire tutors for Lanie who loved teaching math and science. These women were enormous influences on Lanie and likely sparked her love for the subjects. 

In hindsight, I don't regret the homeschooling path. I got to spend a lot of time with my kids and really get to know them and how they learn and what they love. One homeschooling mom/tutor reflected on conversations she'd had with women who had wished they spent more time with their kids. She said she never had that regret because of the homeschooling life they chose. A recent post in a homeschool group, a mom of a wee little wondered when people were starting back up--she started early August (so full of excitement, ambition and vision). I commented we are starting when co-op starts after Labor Day, enjoying these last weeks of summer. Erin starts high school, and while I'm looking forward to these next years, I'm acutely aware of how fast it all goes. I want to savor these last summers of childhood. (And who says we aren't learning every day anyway?)

To the cashier at Walmart who wondered if I'd mess Lanie up with homeschooling--she turned out great. She is disciplined, hardworking, focused, smart, and talented. But even apart from all that, she's got a discerning faith--and I find that's really what will carry her through life's storms and guide her. I'm thankful for our close bond, and thankful for the woman she's becoming.

Day story

 September 2021

Outside my window, a coop and a run. It's in final stages, but we are moving the chickens in today. Erin and I will be working on the final coat and trim today. It's been a fun family project. I'm so glad Shane got into it the way he did. It's much more than I ever expected or imagined the coop to be. Just darling. And the door to the run, why does it make my heart sing? Really takes me back to my childhood when I used to pretend there were doors to imaginary places to open. And now, my own "Dumbledore" to open to a special place. Those chickens make the sweetest sounds.

Giving thanks for running. For health. For food in the fridge. For rest. For joy. For another year to homeschool. For September weather. For friends. For new experiences. 

In the school room, the table is cleared, the books are marked and readied with the day's assignment. We are ready to go. I'm excited for Erin's freshman year--high school! Already! This year's literature is themed on monster classics (Frank, Dracula, Jekyll/Hyde, etc) and mysteries. We are starting off with Frankenstein. We are also including a lot of electives: homesteading (Erin already got a week's education on a farm) with raising and caring for chickens, creating raised gardens and gardening; home economics; watercolor; and personal finance. Plus the usual fare of history, math, science, and language arts. PE is bike training.

From the kitchen, I got up early to make apple cider donuts. So tender. When I came back from my run, Lanie whispered to me, "Erin ate four!" Hahaha. I'm glad she liked them. 

I am an athlete.

I don't want to forget--and I won't forget, how good biking feels. Erin and I went out for the first of our weekly rides last week. We clocked in a starter 10 miles to toughen our butts. The first few rides are always the most uncomfortable. Memory kicked in and I was pedaling like I hadn't missed a day. Erin called to me, "Mom, wait!" I loved it all. And for a moment, I felt sorry for the runners on the trail, because I knew I was having way more fun than they were. I'm sure I smiled big the whole time. We are training for a big spring ride and camping trip. Woot-woot!

 I am reading The Wild Effect by Jane Congdon, How to Talk to Anyone by Leil Lowndes (with Erin), HBH Super Simple by Tieghan Gerard, and Frankenstein by Mary Shelley (with Erin). 

Around the house, getting ready for fall and winter. Stacking wood. Clearing gardens. Readying to close the pool. Windows open. Satsuma warming our spaces. 

I am hearing the chickens. It's their last day in the house. They grew so fast! Already they are seven weeks old. 

On the letterboard, "May the odds be ever in your favor." Happy back to school!

I value prudence.

A view of my favorite things:

working at the farm

They're in high school now!

First day of college

Erin and Lena

Lena, Prim and me

I really love that Jesus loves chickens too.

Lucy Gray and her boot

The Roost

Apple cider donuts

Linda

 

At the table, back to work with my girl. I think of the years we've lived in this house, the people we've hosted for tea, tutoring, wine nights, bonfires. This house has been full of the best memories. Everything happens around the table.