And still counting ... (18,471-18,531)

the sound of crickets on an August morning before sunrise, big blue on hot days, thick glass milk bottles in the fridge, all the books, garden beds refreshed for a fall harvest

the triathlon magazine in the mail, texts with Nora, texts with Marshall's Mom, that the Catholic church has services every day of the week, Bible studies in the mail

Amy T who wants to do the studies too, tea in the mail, the feeling of August before a school year starts, running friends, five miles

fall races, the friend swim Erin went to, smiles, that really good bolognese sauce made with beef and bacon, garlic bread with salted butter (and extra salt)

green smoothies, all of us at home (love, love, love!), peppers in the garden (jalapeno, hot banana, chili, bells), fresh eggs, this home-sweet-home

exemption, journey cookies, clean windows, sitting on a pew among friends, the blessing

running shoes, when your tribe-at-large sends you the signal and you feel stronger knowing you're standing together, the word "no," strength, shopping with Erin at the mall

a grocery run with Lanie, the sound of the breeze in August trees, how Nora is happy for me, acorns on the driveway, muffins made for my kids

66 Books, the writers on 66 Books, Holy Spirit shivers, truth, peace

gorgeous clouds in a summer sky, a walk around her campus, getting to see the buildings where she'll learn, getting to see these things with her, Marshall's Mom warm welcome in the journey

broccoli salad, steaks on the grill, later sunrises, earlier evenings, squeezing out the last of summer

Erin playing uke in the field, back-to-school cosplay shopping, new markers for a next goal planner, the blue lock for the gym, Denise N and her sincere example

every day I get to run

This guy's about finances, but I apply this to fitness and nutrition.

This is such a special and meaningful memory

I loved this image of the wonky windows, the clouds, and the stacks.

Whatever happens, friends.

Bleu clair

This morning, I caught first light through the kitchen window, and I felt so full of life. I absolutely love looking at life through clean windows, in all the seasons. Lately, crisp breaks in the morning, full and thick breezes through lush leaves of August, a comforting sound of crickets (I loved a gentle yoga class instructor's nature-themed playlist that had crickets softly serenading our class). 

I put on my shoes--Shane loved the color of the Altra Paradigm 7--a light blue and smear of yellow. I rather like them myself, although comfort trumps appearance always. Unless it's maroon, which I just can't stand on anything. I ran the driveway, now speckled with falling leaves and acorns. I listened to a 170 bpm cadence track.

I went to Mass, my third week in a row. This time, Lanie accompanied me and we met up with Denise, Catherine, and Joanne. And Denise continues to introduce me to people every time: Santo, Heart, Magee, Jennifer, Bonnie, Benedicta, of the ones I remember. I love how she seems to know everyone. I so appreciate how she takes the time to introduce me to everyone she knows. Every time I've gone, the place is packed. Magee said it's usually more full but that some people attend the 7 a.m. service. This was the place Linda attended weekly. 

Today, I'm baking off applesauce muffins. This week I've been in a holding pattern, awaiting a call to jury duty. But so far, they haven't called my number. And so each day is a new gift of time--one to cut the grass, one to do the grocery shopping, today to meet with friends at church and then bake muffins for my kids and do laundry. 

Soon, teak and tonka candles. Soon, hot pots of tea. Soon, Bible studies. Soon, steaming bowls of soup. Soon, wool between my fingers. Soon, books cracked open to pour out memories and catch them back. Soon, satsuma in the spaces. Soon, a fire in the wood stove and smoke billowing from the chimney. So Much Goodness.

August, I slow with you, Sunday of summer. On the verge of so much new, I savor all these moments, in prayer, in friendship, in work, in running, in tending, in dreaming--whatever comes, fully here, now.

Erin enters the space with a wide smile, "Mom! One of the muffins is missing! There's a wrapper in its place."

She knows I took it. I play along.

"No!" dramatically. "I wonder if it was Ruth. Look how she won't even look at us." 

Later, a swim in big blue. I am so thankful. I never want to forget how beautiful it all is. 

Running. Motherhood. Gardening. Tending. Worshiping. Praying. Gathering. Delighting. Planning. Dreaming. Preparing. 

Family. 

Friends. 

Faith. 

we had our own ribbon cutting ceremony

It just seems right that church would be open every single day.

Day story

 August 2023

Outside my window, cloudy skies with chances of storms. Earlier this week, a fast and furious storm blew through taking down many limbs in the field. But other areas had it worse--trees on houses, electric lines completely down, power outages. We were so thankful this storm spared us as we usually do lose power. When I drove country roads out of state to meet a friend, destruction along the way. 

And I quote, 

"We own the science." UN Under-Secretary General for Global Communications Melissa Fleming speaking about the science of climate change at WEF event October

Giving thanks for the friend opportunities I've had recently. Coffee with Amy for nearly four hours. Calls with Nora and Marshall's Mom. A meet-up with Denise N--the ridiculous (in the good way) power walk before a church service and how she introduced me to everyone she knew--treating me like a very special guest. (Christians: we could all learn from her example. It was so loving and kind.) Later sitting with a dear neighbor friend and her mother. I was humbled by my friend's authenticity--it's been a very hard year of loss for their family; she cried in front of me, and the self awareness that God calls me to these spaces exactly for these moments (a four--we catch tears too, we sit in discomfort). 

In the school room, gearing up for a junior year. Medieval. 

From the kitchen, I made some tasty chicken fajitas (Real Food Dieticians recipe, but on the grill instead of the slow cooker) that lasted us for leftovers--and enough left over so that when Lanie's school friend stopped by, who lives nearby without power, we were able to serve him a hefty plate, and my hospitality/mama heart FELT SO FULL. It was wonderful to come to home Lanie's friends in the kitchen. This house was made for it.

I am hunkering. A new season--Bible studies on the way, along with tea purchases. September whispers cooler days, blue skies, crisp everything, and warm mugs.

I don't want to forget this week of spending time with other people. The dear luxury of iced water. How the pool swim felt when I was training at the gym after the race--and oh, the smiles directing parking, my smiles, their smiles. It is invigorating to sow and reap. But also, the cultivating of character. A long-time frustration playing out, and I find myself sweeping and frequently reminding myself of who I want to be in response. My actions rest on me. Theirs rest on them. One of us will witness of the Spirit. Bible verses for August written on a goal book page: 

• "Take care and be on guard for yourselves and for the whole flock over which the Holy Spirit has appointed you as overseers, to shepherd (tend, feed, guide) the church of God which he bought with is own blood." Acts 20:28 AMP. 
• "Be shepherds of God's flock that is under your care, watching over them--not because you must, but because you are willing, as God wants you to be, not pursuing dishonest gain, but eager to serve; not lording it over those entrusted to you, but being examples to the flock." 1 Peter 5:2

I am reading (still) The Jordan River Rules by Robert Morgan; Untangled by Lisa Damour; and Cleaning Up Your Mental Mess by Dr. Caroline Leaf in the wings. On the way, a Daniel Bible study by Beth Moore and one on abiding in Christ by Jen Wilken (through the John books). 

Around the house, some yard cleaning to do, pulling up spent plants in the boxes and planting for a fall harvest of greens.  Making a space for a next season.

On the letterboard: home sweet home. (Celebrating 12 years here.)

I value example.

A view of my favorite things

my butterball phase, it is what it is

the fierce storm aftermath

home screen

with Amy

with Denise--the little chapel behind us <3

sweeping

my friend made this cute little compact I'm giving to Erin

friends

 

At the table, family and friends. Thank you, God. xoxo

And still counting ... (18,376-18,470)

neighbors over for a swim, peppers and peas from the potager, fresh cucumbers from the vine, food that's garden-to-plate fresh, air conditioning

water cold from the tap, ponytail baseball caps, a mowed lawn, home-sweet-home, hot tea with honey

Paul and the GA Trader Joe's bag, the new shoes he bought for Lanie, and the gifted shoes from her mentor, swimming in the backyard pool, floating and facing the summer sky

texts with Christy, ice water, watermelon, those bottled drinks from Wegmans, really clean kitchen cabinets 

nesting feelings, an unexpected weekend at home, a boat tour with Shane and Erin, ice cream scoops, August mood

clean sheets on the bed, that feeling of a first sleep on them, seriously--a tidied kitchen and the really good feelings it fills me with, late summer locust/cricket sounds, the push up challenge

milk delivered, the heavy glass bottles, chocolate brownies to celebrate chickens, calls from Tracey, a phone date with Nora

Duolingo, dreaming of Duolingo, Croc (sandals) at the pool, the orange-y coral two piece, being unapologetically myself

closed doors, a really good sermon, a faraway church that's still close enough to visit, carrots from the garden, delicious cucumbers from the vine

text from Denise N inviting me to Mass with her, Charleston Chews in the candy aisle, sour cherry lemon Frizzante from Wegmans, goggles for swimming, ear plugs

running into Yvonne when I was putting my stuff in a locker and she was at the water fountain, her so very happy face, readers delivered, new peptides delivered, Erin taking chicken duty in the morning

how she weeded the whole front garden for me so now I can enjoy the view and light it up with walkway lights, Mission Impossible with my man, Liz's comment to me, a field to mow, steak on the grill

flavorful cantaloupe, a Swedish/English Bible for Erin, gf cupcakes on a mini cake plate, all of us at the table, laughter

cloud by day, a clean home, sealed spaces, a Daniel Bible study, a John Bible study

a friend connection with a bold woman, worship music, her very long and safe trip home, Ruth's greeting when Lanie walked inside, making extra coffee in the morning

flowers in a pitcher, how she asked me to make her coffee the second morning too, hugs from my children, a pool to swim in, books in the mail

how rich and full our life is together, fall tea purchases (green, happy, and smart), her replacement ring delivered and delivered, big hugs at camp--and she didn't care who saw, my kids 

chickens sheltered just in time, a home with power after the storm, coffee date planned with Amy, texts with Marshall's Mom, talks with Nora

a Dr. K encounter at the gym, a plan to attend Mass, neighbors who check on us post storm, a creamer delivery, Tuesday

August mood

Dozen

We are twelve years here. 

Last night, as the four of us sat around the dinner table, I felt so full physically and emotionally. We listened as the girls shared their stories, and Shane added one too that had them in laughter. It felt so good to laugh. 

Flowers in a pitcher. Tiny cupcakes on a tiny stand. The biscuits--I slathered mine with apple butter. So good. And homemade chicken soup for Lanie. She had extra helpings. I made gf cheese tortellini I bought at Wegmans (a happy surprise to find!) instead of chicken pot pie. Flavorful cantaloupe. That dinner time felt so wonderful, full, good. Thank you, God.

Twelve years ago, I walked through our former home praying over it for the next family, that they would be blessed and happy there. That God would give them goodness there. There is so much power speaking words out loud. I prayed for a family I hadn't met that would live in the home I was leaving. Prayed that they would find the joy that eluded me there. Twelve years later, in my home-sweet-home, I walked through it praying out loud and worshiping, anointing doorways and windows, sealing a home for Christ, praying over my children's spaces, in the name of the precious blood of Jesus. Water, holy. Salt, blessed. Voice, strong. 

Thank you, God, for everything. Growing up, moving on, wood smoke smells, all the fireplaces, mantels, woodland views, red cardinals, protective crows, even the hawks, an explosion of bunnies, chickens of our own, dogs and cats, a piano, a couch gifted, Joel's table, a long driveway, good neighbors, all the trees, a potager, flowers in a vase, the four of us around the table all these years, David's paintings on our walls, maps in the school room, all the books, and a special room for schooling, French doors, wind chimes, big blue, all the gardens, a fragrant field, fences and trees for kids to climb, hills for sledding, berries wild along a perimeter, all the seasons here, meals at the table, all the families we've hosted, all the playdates we've hosted, field picnics, pool dates and music concerts, Bible studies, homeschool tutoring, coffee dates and tea parties, holidays and cookie swaps, a shelter, and so much more. 

Woke this morning to a fog settled in the woods, and I thought of God's cloud by day and fire by night. Celebrating the fullness, the faithfulness, and the joy. 

This wax flower bundle from Trader Joe's had such a citrus-y aroma when I cut the stems

gf minis on a mini cake stand

 

Eve

It feels like the eve of celebration, like Christmas, or Thanksgiving, or New Year. It is the eve of twelve years here. Today is the day Lanie is coming home from South Carolina, and the day Erin returns for a weekend break from camp. 

In these last few days of me at home alone, I cleaned and tidied and dreamed. I stacked up books and relocated them to the dining room for a temporary stay until I order the bookshelves for the school room. I plan to add a double bookshelves and a skinny single as a corner piece. I hope to bring up basement books and take the books that have been stacked on tables and anywhere else and arrange them on a shelf. The school room is my very favorite room of the house: our former kitchen table a work station, the piano, the gifted couch, the bookshelves. Maps on the wall, and more to hang: London, Paris, and France. 

Yesterday I did loads of laundry to make the washer available for when Lanie returns. I swept, vacuumed, and mopped floors. I dusted and tidied. Satsuma filled the rooms, and so did music from the built in system, just like old times. (During a call yesterday, I told her I had to cut it short before Shane got home so that I could vacuum the basement and stairs. She was so joyful, "Are you cleaning for me?!" Yes. A clean home is a fresh embrace, and order and good smells are soul soothing.)

Outside, yesterday, I noticed a gathering of crows (a group of crows is called a murder). I've learned and noticed this year, crows are like the police of birds. I wondered why so many have been gathering in our yard. A hawk has been loitering. Yesterday, it sat perched on the garden gateway, watching and waiting. I didn't let the chickens out to free roam. Our hens are cranky. 

For the first time this year, the school table is completely cleared off. I'm going to put down a fresh coat of chalkboard paint today. It is so rich and wonderful to nestle into the cushions of the couch, books at hand, and eyes fixed on woodland views. To dream of rustic European homes, racing through cities, or even just imagining these walls lined with bookshelves, filled with books. 

Shane said, "How about just downsizing your books." 

Let's not go there, pal.

"How about no more books until you finish what you have," he suggested instead.

I consider it. And also, the Bible study on Daniel that sits in my shopping cart--I wouldn't call a study a book, necessarily. And anyway, I've justified this year's purchases as beneficial if they support my goals--hence, the running shoes, and any book I've purchased. And perhaps even the solar walkway lights I'm planning on to light a path through the garden. In the name of health and home, of course. 

This eve, I'll be making soup for Lanie and a chicken pot pie for me and Shane. Biscuits for all of us. Melons galore. And the mini cupcakes from Trader Joe's. (She requested them when I said I was going there today.)

Nearish plans include cleaning out garden beds (oh, little potager of my heart!) to sow new seeds for a fall harvest of greens, painting the living room and laundry room and the upstairs bathrooms, redecorating the school room (I'll have to remember to take before pictures) that has remained the same for almost twelve years. And some purging. I watched an Ig account where a mama went minimal in her kitchen--getting rid of so much stuff, she said it was easier to keep clean. I probably won't go as deep as she did in the purge, but she did have me rethink the things I'm holding onto (well, except books). And maybe it's ok to part with the colorful plastic plates and cups we got from Ikea so long ago. And also, I don't need all the dollar store Christmas cookie platters. I don't even remember the last time I hosted a cookie swap or made enough cookies to plate and gift away.

I used to keep track of the projects we'd done, and wow, we really accomplished a lot those first years. Then we just got busy, I guess, and even keeping up was hard. I'm grateful for Erin, who weeded the front garden for me for cosplay money, and is ready to tackle the rock garden too. 

Sometimes an eve can feel so expectant, joyful, special. This day, the four of us together again. And tomorrow, the celebration of twelve years here.