And the winds blew and beat

We had some big wind come through recently, and it knocked down a pine. We called a tree service out to assess the issue, and today they arrived with a team and a crane and took out the pine, a cherry, and an oak tree. 

I watched from an upstairs window as the crane lifted a worker up and he cut the broken tree in half. Then the crane lifted that half of the tree into the air and carried it over to the chipper. (I'm so thankful for brave men who lift into the air with a chainsaw!)

My windows were open. I was cleaning bathrooms, dusting, making the bed. I was vacuuming and sweeping the floors and stairs. I thoroughly cleaned out the fridge so that it sparkled nearly new--and that in itself felt like such a gift.

I lit the nutmeg candle and let it scent the kitchen. I caught the wafting aroma of pine from outside and it smelled of nostalgia here. 

In fact, the windows open, the clean fridge and counters, all the spaces! I was tidying up and it reminded me of so many years ago when the girls were little and we'd get ready to host a play date. But this time, the order was just for me. 

It felt like clean slate. 

(Her) bedroom curtains open and light streaming in, and a fresh breeze. These hints of spring weather, and daffodil shoots rising up. A fridge of food from yesterday's haul, and the buttermilk! I have a cookbook open. Recently I made biscuits, but I have a sweet quick bread in mind to make for Erin and Shane (and Lanie when she swings by this weekend). 

These are all the things that speak of home to me, and I am thankful for a foundation that holds me still. 

"And the rain descended and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat upon that house; and it fell not, for it was founded upon a rock." Matthew 7:25.

Day story

 February 2025

Outside my window, a tree caught by its neighboring trees. We had strong winds come through that brought a weakened pine down. I'm thankful it was caught in the stand of trees, and that nothing would be damaged if it fell to the ground. In the woods, still mounds of snow from last week's snowfall. Otherwise, everywhere, it's melted off. I shoveled our driveway for four and a half hours, even though it was going to warm up, because things linger longer in the woods, and I've got a race coming up. I'll take all the blacktop I can get!

And I quote, 

"They say the struggle is real, I say the struggle reveals how you deal with the monster that's inside you." Fire on Up by Paper Kings

Giving thanks in the storms of life. Adversity, grief, and tension build strength and resilience. Also, praise is a powerful weapon. So I will keep giving thanks. For peace in my home, for anointed spaces, for hugs and restorative sleep, for body battery readings finally rising up after months of struggling, for excellent resting heart rates. I'm thankful for longer runs and sore muscles. I'm thankful for friends across the coffee table from me--three dates in three weeks, and I didn't shed a single tear, but instead felt strengthened. Yeah, life is still good.

In the school room, the table is cleaned up. We spend more of our time in the living room with a big, bay window of afternoon sunshine, and a cozy fire warming the spaces. I scheduled our last homeschool review. 

From the kitchen, keeping it simple. Proteins, and fresh fruit and vegetables. Staying away from processed stuff, and enjoying eggs. One of the hens is laying already, and they're the best eggs, but the way we go through them, I still have to buy from the store. Baby chicks are coming back in stock and we are adding to our sweet flock since we lost Clove last year and Cressida doesn't lay anymore.

I am training. Adding cycling to the mix very soon and building my mileage for a first half marathon of the year in March. I'm registered for one triathlon with two possibilities in the wings. And getting my head around the training for my first marathon. Lots to juggle. Perimenopause is a strong force--exhaustion, slow recovery, the weight gain (ugh), and did I mention exhaustion?

I don't want to forget my purpose: to love God and glorify him. There is a lot of freedom in that.

I am reading a lot of books. I just finished a great Bible study on spiritual warfare and got another of the author's books for further reading. Three or four others are on the end table, and I move ahead a chapter a day in each.

Around the house, a couple of prints to hang in the living room. Trying to decide between a black frame or a gold-tone frame. I'm getting ready to purge clothes and other items. Thinking ahead of a growing flock and planting a garden.

On the letterboard: xoxo

I value friendship.

A view of my favorite things

her love language is gifts

cold foam with Amy

on my needles

coffee and catching up with Kellie

the vest I made

TEAM but feels like FAMILY

coffee with Sharon

the fragrance

February feels, possibly my favorite mood board ever

 

Work in progress (wip) a sweater with the bling-bling yarn from We Are Knitters. Since November, I've made four scarves, three hats, a vest, and currently working on The Boston Sweater. I have another vest project with pink yarn waiting to be picked up. I try to only have one work in progress at a time, but I know others juggle several. 

At the table, hot foods and good talks with my man. We are aware that it could very well be the two of us living here by year's end, and how this house will seem so big. My plan is to fill it with friends and creating community. I'll never forget when Reggie told me to use this wonderland for God's glory.

Frozen in time

The area is covered in ice. I could see it reflecting house lights off the patio furniture, icicle strands caught in time, dangling, reaching. This morning, there were still embers in the wood stove from the fire Erin tended until wee hours (night owl that she is). I added a log and enjoyed warmth in the living room. After Shane left for work, I sipped at coffee, scrolled and read some pages, and then wrapped myself up in the furry blanket for a little more sleep. 

The stillness reminded me of the days when the kids were in co-op and we'd await the announcements on school closures and delays. Today, county schools are closed, and the me of the past let out a "hurray!", even though it doesn't affect us. The feeling of a pause in the midst is a peace and a pleasure.

I dreamed about my kids. Dreamed of a coming end and the urgency in the air. Listened in my dreams to piano music playing, only to awaken and hear it in real time, in real life, through the walls of my home. I cherished it, her music, aware of lasts. 

Lanie moves out tomorrow. 

Nearly noon, and the world is still covered in ice, frozen, suspended. And it's beautiful, and it's fragile. All of life. 

At the canyon's edge, I look around at how high, how wide, how deep it is. And I feel small.

And still counting ... (20181-20,230)

 the note from Gavin's mom that it was good for him, notebooks graded and returned, hugs with Carey and Angela, chatting up Alana, her colorwork sock project

phone calls with Christy, coffee with Sharon, a creme brulee latte, melting ice, second sleep mornings 

Shane, emissions testing done, a cinnamon bun for Erin, resources, quiche

two eggs from Prim, "eating the frog", learning two new stitch techniques, a coffee and a long visit with Amy T, little vials of oil

a safe place to share, all the books, feedback from students' parents, a finished vest, texts with The One Who Loves Me

the team meet-up, team swag, all the hugs, all the photos, the joy I felt for us all together again

the 2025 race season, inspiration, tips from Danny (the Danny plan!), the finish line feeling of handing out medals, working with a great team

Anita, a fast day with Amy, shared prayers, prayer cards, gifts wrapped in red (and the unexpected gift received in their refusal)

neighborhood walks, Ruth, her keen perception, Shane, Erin

Lanie, last music in the rooms, last sink strainers full of food, aromatic oil, a new knit project