tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550024221185710722024-03-18T23:00:35.210-04:00good graciousinspired living and cooking for all occasionsggfbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17207676832135391479noreply@blogger.comBlogger140125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555002422118571072.post-11541264568777245592021-01-08T16:29:00.003-05:002021-01-08T16:29:49.122-05:00we've moved! (just the blog)<p>All of my past posts and recipes will remain here for safekeeping, but you'll find new posts at <a href="http://www.goodgraciousfood.com">www.goodgraciousfood.com</a> together with the archives. See you there!</p>ggfbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17207676832135391479noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555002422118571072.post-68563569688078273372021-01-08T10:40:00.007-05:002021-01-08T10:40:56.618-05:00the great experiment<p>We celebrated our second Christmas in the house, and she's hosted more than 220 of them. I'm humbled by those numbers. We hung stockings on the tall mantle under low ceilings. We bought a skinny scraggly Christmas tree for way too much money at a roadside stand (cash only!). On Christmas morning we ate my grandmother's brunch recipes by ourselves after opening presents. Kevin bought me a telescope for watching the stars in 2021. It was a good one. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh86mcxuernUFVmelZ99hQA7Tdz99Ca7jxJq_GOUNikCxykllV4PEGgNDi3VZzYcn7tWGslN0mT35VHD0rnvjx5gWb2jJBPAVZHyJ2wqJ1vRzplGXgsQnvN0NVAPZ2hNd7SdBmhqK8Ski3Q/s4032/IMG_1641.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh86mcxuernUFVmelZ99hQA7Tdz99Ca7jxJq_GOUNikCxykllV4PEGgNDi3VZzYcn7tWGslN0mT35VHD0rnvjx5gWb2jJBPAVZHyJ2wqJ1vRzplGXgsQnvN0NVAPZ2hNd7SdBmhqK8Ski3Q/w480-h640/IMG_1641.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidqRkdrkSxy7n8fdRl7brR4FXBdQJo86SB-slRVg5vg-voqSaECqPjn5TAzmnh8-XtNQJFdZTmb8QLO6xwWsVnDlbG1uLSTTl_ix0ZHvGTsZ6C09ee5nDWQihmrQ6LAkUGYUFDwovGtijA/s4032/IMG_1642.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidqRkdrkSxy7n8fdRl7brR4FXBdQJo86SB-slRVg5vg-voqSaECqPjn5TAzmnh8-XtNQJFdZTmb8QLO6xwWsVnDlbG1uLSTTl_ix0ZHvGTsZ6C09ee5nDWQihmrQ6LAkUGYUFDwovGtijA/w480-h640/IMG_1642.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0XB8YrM9FiCz4Mg_LKBngnxbDil95h29nk3SH2E9JFW6_7NU6eDpTRWCzPolikgfCxnGzhl1NP81vwKJestvdCxQ0aTzUmqrx6IGMbaM7Dpz6aS-Kg4wqcghyCsVIdCdmUjzwmTA2IjvH/s4032/IMG_1606.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0XB8YrM9FiCz4Mg_LKBngnxbDil95h29nk3SH2E9JFW6_7NU6eDpTRWCzPolikgfCxnGzhl1NP81vwKJestvdCxQ0aTzUmqrx6IGMbaM7Dpz6aS-Kg4wqcghyCsVIdCdmUjzwmTA2IjvH/w480-h640/IMG_1606.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxJyO8FD_oJimgtmFqZGP6matwOHXNt-9wBK0OSdHJS4NiLnahfTsYefCK7v3QLBzgNBVl2VQoBE0NmBUXe1urjlmeJ65sGykMAGySJjqhzO-osf0wy4ggXiKUTRTI7o75ZOpZ1EmvTcxF/s4032/IMG_1672.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxJyO8FD_oJimgtmFqZGP6matwOHXNt-9wBK0OSdHJS4NiLnahfTsYefCK7v3QLBzgNBVl2VQoBE0NmBUXe1urjlmeJ65sGykMAGySJjqhzO-osf0wy4ggXiKUTRTI7o75ZOpZ1EmvTcxF/w480-h640/IMG_1672.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibtLG3G_tkl1TWh0jEfWED6MuMeo8AZJOrhe44hXZYaW2EaG-BLLwwzmQPH3YJq-_VJJAVVR48ZGSwS3hPvyPCtJjwDM0tUXRcfeTNgh7Mj23hLYPUURY67sEVE-XnQclQOW0cjtSNXVNH/s4032/IMG_1669.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibtLG3G_tkl1TWh0jEfWED6MuMeo8AZJOrhe44hXZYaW2EaG-BLLwwzmQPH3YJq-_VJJAVVR48ZGSwS3hPvyPCtJjwDM0tUXRcfeTNgh7Mj23hLYPUURY67sEVE-XnQclQOW0cjtSNXVNH/w480-h640/IMG_1669.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><p>I realized over the holidays how much I missed working on the house and the creative rewards it offers. In a year of being home and reorganizing all of our routines, our projects for improvement here fell off and we focused more on maintenance. We did some big things-- upfitting the air conditioning in the attic for our offices, adding some rugs and plants, demolishing the old concrete pad and installing a playset. But most weeks it was mowing, vacuuming, sweeping. Staying afloat, in many ways. </p><p>We did not have childcare for most of December, so I wasn't able to tackle much. We're still waiting on the window company to replace our enormous skylight in my office space upstairs. We don't have the energy to do major landscaping. The garden and orchard space waits, mostly fallow, for spring leaves. I was proud to pull up a few yellow carrots and saw down a tree-like Brussels sprout shoot for dinner with the kids. Milo was proud that the seeds he planted about 6 months ago finally produced something we could eat! Extreme patience is a lesson of living here. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0SRxMuDXHIsx5chirqpr02cvNsWJxU4szjq7G5dST-hUkf3ogINV7LTY1HFZ3TtEC58SwmsObC5GXF0HIYQR22DBBdsIL5SoK-EGycJm2bPD0hCBSWjsKNdufL7w6OMe17ZAaFsAePPyQ/s4032/IMG_1704.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0SRxMuDXHIsx5chirqpr02cvNsWJxU4szjq7G5dST-hUkf3ogINV7LTY1HFZ3TtEC58SwmsObC5GXF0HIYQR22DBBdsIL5SoK-EGycJm2bPD0hCBSWjsKNdufL7w6OMe17ZAaFsAePPyQ/w480-h640/IMG_1704.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFDiExCOQD-iSeMV7r8SoozcPbLRPQNPEN1-9jj_BBEdi-oLaZ-6yFeeel3nqBvNTNbheCcdiZcHfBKTo6eX44qgL_UeU05UAx8LyWJ4EJuNJTr1CSz-2JEGVW0WGpvujz3EcfcrZK_hLO/s4032/IMG_1695.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFDiExCOQD-iSeMV7r8SoozcPbLRPQNPEN1-9jj_BBEdi-oLaZ-6yFeeel3nqBvNTNbheCcdiZcHfBKTo6eX44qgL_UeU05UAx8LyWJ4EJuNJTr1CSz-2JEGVW0WGpvujz3EcfcrZK_hLO/w480-h640/IMG_1695.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><p>During naptimes and after bedtime I dug back in to some historical research about the house and made some spectacular discoveries. Jean Anderson, a Durham historian, has written extensively about the pre-Civil War town of South Lowell. I soaked up everything I could find that she had written. I investigated her research notes at the NC collection at the library. I searched through the Library of Congress slave narratives. I checked all the census records, decade by decade, for this district. I doubled down on digging through wills, deeds, and land grants to find the earliest landowners in this place. There are many gaps in the story I have reconstructed, but I've uncovered a picture that helps me to feel like I understand it a little better. I can't wait to write it and share it. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjA53CNu9SJI626oYr7S83x1cTfcAgZvISZwCDw3h9htxnhil6T-vTJsLBN188NIHuv9YPKkAgJYmi4fyZzI3mxraxDpB_cixDhitmgr45jy7jQVRsvs7MZHZjOdfX9o1j2SgV9WU8MU2w/s2048/4433161_00179.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1751" data-original-width="2048" height="548" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjA53CNu9SJI626oYr7S83x1cTfcAgZvISZwCDw3h9htxnhil6T-vTJsLBN188NIHuv9YPKkAgJYmi4fyZzI3mxraxDpB_cixDhitmgr45jy7jQVRsvs7MZHZjOdfX9o1j2SgV9WU8MU2w/w640-h548/4433161_00179.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p>Earlier this week I spoke with the previous owners, the wonderful sellers who entrusted us with this place and its legacy. We talked for an hour and a half about the history of the house, the stories of "old-timers" they remember from years ago, and some of the "what the heck is that?" features of the house. I worried we might feel defensive-- me for the things we've changed, them for the things they might have left-- but we met in the middle with good stories, laughs, and mutual admiration. They seemed to enjoy hearing about the way we are using the space. There's some shared respect for our blood, sweat, tears (and money) that we've invested in this old house. And for them, having done it so much longer, their parting words when we hung up-- "good luck!!" </p><p>Why on earth do we love it so much? It's magnetic for some of us. For the sellers, it took an unbelievable amount of courage and work. When they bought the house 40 years ago, only the mortarless stone foundation piers supported it. You could see under the house end to end. The huge tree trunks supporting the floors. They hand-dug and installed all the cinderblocks to help support it, which now make up the foundation. Years ago, over 6 months, they removed the wood siding from the 40s, insulated from the outside, wrapped, and re-sided the house. The reducted through drop ceilings and relocated the heat pump. They closed up old doors and installed a modern water heater with solar power. Each improvement deliberate, personal, and painstaking. </p><p>They shared stories of rabbit trapping, rafts on the river, watermelon pickings, huge gardens, hurricanes, bonfires, and corn fields. I assured them I would preserve and pass along their stories. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQd-tws1dlPksL8lfHO_ID7VoUmmDjVmMCNqFjPBebyA6PeyrXiJMe5S7zsgAuVJDB3MIEqJ01m1qvk7Nwbp1PUSWO6KVu45ErSfVZULqSVglN3YfpuwPsco89CEurK_Vzm7Z3BCOs2PSS/s9008/IMG_1578.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3628" data-original-width="9008" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQd-tws1dlPksL8lfHO_ID7VoUmmDjVmMCNqFjPBebyA6PeyrXiJMe5S7zsgAuVJDB3MIEqJ01m1qvk7Nwbp1PUSWO6KVu45ErSfVZULqSVglN3YfpuwPsco89CEurK_Vzm7Z3BCOs2PSS/w640-h258/IMG_1578.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><p>I also contacted the Eno River Association to learn more about the historical, cultural, and environmental work they are doing in this area. We want to learn more about stewardship of the river frontage and conservation of the wildlife here. What they told me was so moving. There are rare and endangered species in this river at our feet. High-priority migration corridors for wildlife through the region. Multiple inter-dependent and successional habitats that depend on the seasons and our involvement... sometimes through benign neglect, sometimes through active participation. They told me, <i>the confluence of the rivers where you live is very very special. And it's extremely important. We're so glad that good people own this land and can protect it. </i>I almost burst into tears. To me, that responsibility is validating. Because we feel it in our bones. And to know that someone else cares as much as we do, and for lots of scientific reasons we are only still learning!, helps me to feel like we're not alone in the work. That it's worthwhile. (Desperately need this while today our whole house smells like a skunk.) And that we deserve to be here as the stewards and beneficiaries of this magic. </p><p>In the new year, we plan to keep going. We don't know what each step will be. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKjMM_QVYgv3YJThNpAGryoS5L9Jvxrr9ozfZWaubehqPwtRp_zKBC-AT5N35B4MeevYLIlEH25h6qraMBOoLsbRZ9TFdUHaXRewI4KM-VlBAlBwFvjCYBXkJXaiSB5RYSEWEftsYHPC2k/s4032/IMG_1707.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKjMM_QVYgv3YJThNpAGryoS5L9Jvxrr9ozfZWaubehqPwtRp_zKBC-AT5N35B4MeevYLIlEH25h6qraMBOoLsbRZ9TFdUHaXRewI4KM-VlBAlBwFvjCYBXkJXaiSB5RYSEWEftsYHPC2k/w480-h640/IMG_1707.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4725cUXYdI2-fmNmEqnr104pUkbg0t44mFE1rIG8biNqtN0pAQi6_QLmoxKRAXblCBLEKacQZEzkujHWXB129mBqgl_k5861KEaoUYLaT1Vnq0iRzBxvEOqIRH5H8VvmDb-OjF6E2WIzd/s4032/IMG_1711.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4725cUXYdI2-fmNmEqnr104pUkbg0t44mFE1rIG8biNqtN0pAQi6_QLmoxKRAXblCBLEKacQZEzkujHWXB129mBqgl_k5861KEaoUYLaT1Vnq0iRzBxvEOqIRH5H8VvmDb-OjF6E2WIzd/w480-h640/IMG_1711.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><p>For 2021 I started with painting the creaky stairs we walk on every day to work. (Behr Oregano Spice, a tribute to the sellers who used that color in the living room before we arrived.). I touched up trim in the kitchen and hallway, finally, and it brightens the room. (SW Antique White) I felt satisifed to see those small improvements. We rearranged the rugs and furniture a bit and it was a nice change of pace since we're here all the time. You'll forgive the boxes and bins because... kids.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCZDC-TbiK6HUhLRAvzf6g0ADKyLy3RblxLj5XlNHj-5t2PE37tpHD05DF3OZmTk6Omt83gbXBfexU74BiqbGxdKZsXjq3ajQxgjWK_Z2PUz-CWl07NBnOnjntyt0C4S_GDR-4I07GO0uN/s4032/IMG_1700.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCZDC-TbiK6HUhLRAvzf6g0ADKyLy3RblxLj5XlNHj-5t2PE37tpHD05DF3OZmTk6Omt83gbXBfexU74BiqbGxdKZsXjq3ajQxgjWK_Z2PUz-CWl07NBnOnjntyt0C4S_GDR-4I07GO0uN/w640-h480/IMG_1700.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9sTOByE-Dhh4AYS4lBHwJWXha18cE-R24ULtGy7OCJoVBUqbxCkj-GR2IOVuMSAXqc3Icn1iDAN303hF_TDHW-IdL66Ga3Huuv5tT0CNnmIpOK6LY0kaauJRn3O2dCRBuTwIc3SyjwNvU/s4032/IMG_1699.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9sTOByE-Dhh4AYS4lBHwJWXha18cE-R24ULtGy7OCJoVBUqbxCkj-GR2IOVuMSAXqc3Icn1iDAN303hF_TDHW-IdL66Ga3Huuv5tT0CNnmIpOK6LY0kaauJRn3O2dCRBuTwIc3SyjwNvU/w640-h480/IMG_1699.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><p>I invited a hardwood flooring expert to inspect our upstairs floors, to see if they could be refinished, and he immediately refused. They are too fragile, too prone to crack, best left alone. But we're not giving up. We are going to test some areas and see if we can refinish them by hand. I have no idea if it will work, but I'm willing to roll up my sleeves and try. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTCZ-EkYDIixWCim_sDNFGWo9Iqq046y0X4npV7QEH-5Ovg8gVFpcl4TvaVGNwpwWr0GLhBqczK3bj1d9Qr9_tYXSxknKb9tNGHcs04I73-ClC7tbWDp3hZ834-UBBy6JkWHMSBsh3TT6n/s4032/IMG_1709.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTCZ-EkYDIixWCim_sDNFGWo9Iqq046y0X4npV7QEH-5Ovg8gVFpcl4TvaVGNwpwWr0GLhBqczK3bj1d9Qr9_tYXSxknKb9tNGHcs04I73-ClC7tbWDp3hZ834-UBBy6JkWHMSBsh3TT6n/w480-h640/IMG_1709.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><p>The great experiment. A frontier for generations of people who lived here. For us, too. Figuring it out, with uncertainty, humbling ourselves, learning all along the way. And passing the stories down. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkc65IOSxVNOkS0jYhPKiKJfX7QXfkMbSB8dX5BTKeizmJ_u7JF_JpHICQ33lq5Lp2P8AFwU3zKDCPryI-AzngMInks4N09Q8v83VPm9_jx8qfa3HOr1X6zVwow7JVELbNbszlBXanw1oo/s3000/IMG_1580.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2250" data-original-width="3000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkc65IOSxVNOkS0jYhPKiKJfX7QXfkMbSB8dX5BTKeizmJ_u7JF_JpHICQ33lq5Lp2P8AFwU3zKDCPryI-AzngMInks4N09Q8v83VPm9_jx8qfa3HOr1X6zVwow7JVELbNbszlBXanw1oo/w640-h480/IMG_1580.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>ggfbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17207676832135391479noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555002422118571072.post-89047008877598633042021-01-08T09:49:00.005-05:002021-01-08T09:49:46.095-05:00images of fall<p> I neglected to post during the fall, as we had our hands full with life in general. But we enjoyed beautiful weather, leaves, hikes, and s'mores by the fire. I want to remember these images of fall at home.</p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhy5YCl4k3Eooduzr4ENohvDr_3UtC218x8a6ENrIBvJLGcqTCO5Z7ipZkc8lllIqFp28wfC2je5Ii68hRhEfCK0aaUYC_Ldhy4JomEJcmMhvlcxH2YRJGkiXhQMXwVkBDsUB_mZeujB8s/s4032/IMG_1537.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhy5YCl4k3Eooduzr4ENohvDr_3UtC218x8a6ENrIBvJLGcqTCO5Z7ipZkc8lllIqFp28wfC2je5Ii68hRhEfCK0aaUYC_Ldhy4JomEJcmMhvlcxH2YRJGkiXhQMXwVkBDsUB_mZeujB8s/w640-h480/IMG_1537.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL8gHECuVsM8DuJVDpzMdfQVeTbRsjTsPA51FUadrXMMzVi_PPA9o1OXxAdRJpHgWnDuTZjONIsh1Kp2m2ojk2z11LL7WPsYDgBdLQOl2mcI_WayHtdVNuYYWQxQL-fgSrJ4iuqEaOwtsC/s4032/IMG_1529.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNFPQor5TNHbwERwFXLFRjAesT1FO2c4Xy5RQdKZzWzSNLi_DydA4Uy3kzFqqG9NmVUt8NNOnK9P42OJYQgrjVkOkIucvVEhNC5C8YrLJjViLb-AyKBMa5hoHkXPSD0kQlvlZoxryq-9od/s4032/IMG_1417.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNFPQor5TNHbwERwFXLFRjAesT1FO2c4Xy5RQdKZzWzSNLi_DydA4Uy3kzFqqG9NmVUt8NNOnK9P42OJYQgrjVkOkIucvVEhNC5C8YrLJjViLb-AyKBMa5hoHkXPSD0kQlvlZoxryq-9od/w640-h480/IMG_1417.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>ggfbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17207676832135391479noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555002422118571072.post-11192737580599695322020-09-19T15:48:00.006-04:002020-09-19T15:48:48.093-04:00even in the rain<p>We fell in love with this place in the pouring rain. </p><p>Yesterday, in the heavy rains blowing over from whatever hurricane or tropical storm is nearby, I remembered that feeling. </p><p>Eager, anxious, enchanted, and a little intimidated. </p><p>I tried to capture it but rain never really photographs well. (I mean, at least not for an amateur on my iPhone). </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHbaQ8y-WR115lKnoh76Ay3C5jK5WJ7BJ7Ic8kTx9jot0rn6e2sxXTzpqVbIA1rbvHm7tPdVZaHMxjlYCUkO9ZNCfSMLPMBfXpSxk_qNemhcDDacbk0qkM6X8XgIGZ_yXicqTBEIPCwN2p/s4032/IMG_1239.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHbaQ8y-WR115lKnoh76Ay3C5jK5WJ7BJ7Ic8kTx9jot0rn6e2sxXTzpqVbIA1rbvHm7tPdVZaHMxjlYCUkO9ZNCfSMLPMBfXpSxk_qNemhcDDacbk0qkM6X8XgIGZ_yXicqTBEIPCwN2p/w480-h640/IMG_1239.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><p>We're getting new views and new perspective though as we make changes to the house and the landscape gradually. </p><p>In late summer, we did some big projects to change how we use the outdoor space. Even though playgrounds are opening back up around us, we decided to put in our own playset. While we were debating where to place it, it dawned on us that the concrete pad and chainlink fence had to GO. NOW. It was an expensive demo job, but we hired it out to get it done quickly. Our friend next door removed a sickly oak tree from the space next, and in just a few days we had an open vista and plenty of space for a custom-built wooden playset for the boys. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2NEUxeWfAzvNBJXIV-O9TZWymoruklMf9dkvAM3WWX3d-_fD_vSyR0rYImOEnDn5TRu0HXPrWZIeJ3iclJl4PGtIpC2hNzuLQWqsFGqy36Zo0akkC-3CXFp635vdr6J9hBsIFbqrhaCHD/s4032/IMG_1020.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2NEUxeWfAzvNBJXIV-O9TZWymoruklMf9dkvAM3WWX3d-_fD_vSyR0rYImOEnDn5TRu0HXPrWZIeJ3iclJl4PGtIpC2hNzuLQWqsFGqy36Zo0akkC-3CXFp635vdr6J9hBsIFbqrhaCHD/w480-h640/IMG_1020.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP62V6vp0ec_ApLr-MimCizlU6FlcqBag9H72hQnwbvfPZlknIe19VcXI8pOpjbU9ypsTGvPCgJioF1M8OJv44lXxJI4Kh8dxGpmTT6eKhejgIPIVcHo5_azIBmHNSyCh7qXO8mpXwIwBP/s4032/IMG_1072.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP62V6vp0ec_ApLr-MimCizlU6FlcqBag9H72hQnwbvfPZlknIe19VcXI8pOpjbU9ypsTGvPCgJioF1M8OJv44lXxJI4Kh8dxGpmTT6eKhejgIPIVcHo5_azIBmHNSyCh7qXO8mpXwIwBP/w480-h640/IMG_1072.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjljYfubvUy3_1GDc9Yd7bqnTRAVPvSOi8o8WW5JoHX0aXSxBJ1KLmYQUbknN0rL3rCg1T-vxL4mAgIMlhHzZ3OEVad11QA11BUBNdrwnRLYV5nmdTJ3u3ocZoWXTc1-x5RfpNUDi9tO-2k/s4032/IMG_1085.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjljYfubvUy3_1GDc9Yd7bqnTRAVPvSOi8o8WW5JoHX0aXSxBJ1KLmYQUbknN0rL3rCg1T-vxL4mAgIMlhHzZ3OEVad11QA11BUBNdrwnRLYV5nmdTJ3u3ocZoWXTc1-x5RfpNUDi9tO-2k/w480-h640/IMG_1085.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGsi9gFbVW51SHkmbuUI2wx1Dn9yfv1HfArKrRmtlhGLB8Kdd2zcrClaI1A_t9JuQsu9bKmFhhG_-xuPerdZDA1uToQSLaQyqEgJFjbsKoe6LOrlEKWCFt-IVawZRG32OHCZzlJ_7Yp7if/s4032/IMG_1107.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGsi9gFbVW51SHkmbuUI2wx1Dn9yfv1HfArKrRmtlhGLB8Kdd2zcrClaI1A_t9JuQsu9bKmFhhG_-xuPerdZDA1uToQSLaQyqEgJFjbsKoe6LOrlEKWCFt-IVawZRG32OHCZzlJ_7Yp7if/w640-h480/IMG_1107.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuc8KyzjcyW6gJR9KdQ-9UsgBTQTM6BKVHal3xmfsW75YzMX_oeyJa6C8ZUyWZ6tzNRi5er5VH-8r73vHMT_c3TJfQLUALsDCO_VdCsnJ4HrKPad2SDkq30LP8JJ2pLDtZjJnRi47SzIuY/s4032/IMG_1187.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuc8KyzjcyW6gJR9KdQ-9UsgBTQTM6BKVHal3xmfsW75YzMX_oeyJa6C8ZUyWZ6tzNRi5er5VH-8r73vHMT_c3TJfQLUALsDCO_VdCsnJ4HrKPad2SDkq30LP8JJ2pLDtZjJnRi47SzIuY/w480-h640/IMG_1187.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p>Once it was installed we had (free!) wood chips brought in from a tree service. With help from the boys I started planting grass seed and planning flowers and bushes to make it prettier, gradually and at our own pace. </p><p>It feels great and I love seeing this new view of our space while we sit and watch the boys play. Best of all, I can see them play from the kitchen while I'm making dinner or cleaning dishes for the 1000x time today. That is a major mom goal for me. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBk98PDoLayr09-Rgyrpfg6bOPFsCfXAWVRrdbQwYauxFZNSvU08Tdr3e4z5q2lcl0SphEcZWQeceE6Lvo56cNqtVB16ER0g3NfruNWjFGitTDGy9SAzA4_kLCu_5-6HYEI1QXLtVYAfnD/s12002/IMG_1190.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3714" data-original-width="12002" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBk98PDoLayr09-Rgyrpfg6bOPFsCfXAWVRrdbQwYauxFZNSvU08Tdr3e4z5q2lcl0SphEcZWQeceE6Lvo56cNqtVB16ER0g3NfruNWjFGitTDGy9SAzA4_kLCu_5-6HYEI1QXLtVYAfnD/w640-h198/IMG_1190.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>We also added a curved outdoor sofa in our gazebo, a plum tree, and two fig trees (which the deer totally ate). <div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaysyzee2ZIKcCdHMq8B-TEVg9OXycpH47PVx8MQ8lrpnOITeL1gX99JXlnwGwxp4EwWMAm1zJzmnQhRaYQGtAe9-PLglDFRc4sSdFX70Pl6aK7kSQF4QujUsRPijWFsDHrSCnp5w3KP5O/s4032/IMG_1114.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaysyzee2ZIKcCdHMq8B-TEVg9OXycpH47PVx8MQ8lrpnOITeL1gX99JXlnwGwxp4EwWMAm1zJzmnQhRaYQGtAe9-PLglDFRc4sSdFX70Pl6aK7kSQF4QujUsRPijWFsDHrSCnp5w3KP5O/w640-h480/IMG_1114.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>It's an end of summer scene, with some late-blooming flowers, plenty of mowing, and a tiny bit of produce still coming in. Bike and helmets and occasional sweaters are littered all over our yard, and we're remembering some of the projects we really wanted to get done while it was warm (and didn't). </div><div><br /></div><div>Inside, I've been organizing (like everyone watching The Home Edit on Netflix!!) and purging and trying to reset for a new season and a little bit of school. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip0pIiHvKKVZWyOmkaSNLQRcmGiTaLNV4c2wweAeYKDFzaYH2uNY-JQCqc9zRDl_Rk80rSfiP6IwFXy5WoGW4omC2LLhoIJEiKl0sNUKLXGO8sjsoJY3ONPGvwU6XJ1UDy-_KBYFpmmJY1/s3088/IMG_1035.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2316" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip0pIiHvKKVZWyOmkaSNLQRcmGiTaLNV4c2wweAeYKDFzaYH2uNY-JQCqc9zRDl_Rk80rSfiP6IwFXy5WoGW4omC2LLhoIJEiKl0sNUKLXGO8sjsoJY3ONPGvwU6XJ1UDy-_KBYFpmmJY1/w480-h640/IMG_1035.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvM9pA848LENPe3EJ0c4rSeXkuNleyXLmJUtxRC-6-v5qkMy3q98CJH1TOAsfmjYdt-0i7AXzTTrZOES-1cpRqP9Iec1plwVbKdXf0ItCwDyzZn6tMmjcHXpYInluo_BxAzDg-9gTt2-CM/s4032/IMG_1054.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvM9pA848LENPe3EJ0c4rSeXkuNleyXLmJUtxRC-6-v5qkMy3q98CJH1TOAsfmjYdt-0i7AXzTTrZOES-1cpRqP9Iec1plwVbKdXf0ItCwDyzZn6tMmjcHXpYInluo_BxAzDg-9gTt2-CM/w480-h640/IMG_1054.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP2gc0zbIm2L0gHkodl8rWEHELdZL_NJgdppqohEDKn14bwYdjnPCdY6PDASfO3fWFCJKYk1jjRiUCzbZfczUn7FL9lmu_bnOhd1OlDS59dzdke-3qYlq1EnQOlU-LhiMK8IUuEYY2FSNs/s3088/IMG_0948.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2316" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP2gc0zbIm2L0gHkodl8rWEHELdZL_NJgdppqohEDKn14bwYdjnPCdY6PDASfO3fWFCJKYk1jjRiUCzbZfczUn7FL9lmu_bnOhd1OlDS59dzdke-3qYlq1EnQOlU-LhiMK8IUuEYY2FSNs/w480-h640/IMG_0948.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh17VwyRP3pWzIEoM5B9V8-zvF1d1Y93RPl2dxwVpnlJuUE7LRWowYLaGTTplcE5mtlDR9RuEmK-6MFGonLrf6ILq3jstoPMxKWEke1KgkeaHwLT_L3_Xc0WVdJBXtXL6EvOIIN6wL5JDKq/s4032/IMG_1005.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh17VwyRP3pWzIEoM5B9V8-zvF1d1Y93RPl2dxwVpnlJuUE7LRWowYLaGTTplcE5mtlDR9RuEmK-6MFGonLrf6ILq3jstoPMxKWEke1KgkeaHwLT_L3_Xc0WVdJBXtXL6EvOIIN6wL5JDKq/w640-h480/IMG_1005.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><p>This place continues to give us new life and new possibilities, even in a pandemic and even in the rain.</p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLlBLUTS4nPQ6RUGIizurLjXwkY4svMsaA8qIxKhlPmKlnl3vNq9OIKc7-SHmAGkyL29HW7txtReHFrFZ33jtz4NfQTnrlsDqTyNOnR6BLKNgfCTlRjC92zjb5MSEgrFrE0ybUc-40IUwB/s4032/IMG_1023.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLlBLUTS4nPQ6RUGIizurLjXwkY4svMsaA8qIxKhlPmKlnl3vNq9OIKc7-SHmAGkyL29HW7txtReHFrFZ33jtz4NfQTnrlsDqTyNOnR6BLKNgfCTlRjC92zjb5MSEgrFrE0ybUc-40IUwB/w640-h480/IMG_1023.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBnVYxs3vnaBZnv1FPVlaaAaE0InrYfPXywMVWve1m7PKfzhRbyns3f2qolT0WRUVxoXlRMMHho_9eOG0huSHz25AARrm0nXJ-wE2dAiSqVF2GuAqmt0Qqszb_Zx41e-hfUcD2lZA7TgCj/s4032/IMG_1152.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBnVYxs3vnaBZnv1FPVlaaAaE0InrYfPXywMVWve1m7PKfzhRbyns3f2qolT0WRUVxoXlRMMHho_9eOG0huSHz25AARrm0nXJ-wE2dAiSqVF2GuAqmt0Qqszb_Zx41e-hfUcD2lZA7TgCj/w640-h480/IMG_1152.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p></div>ggfbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17207676832135391479noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555002422118571072.post-18855068994357100782020-08-08T16:29:00.002-04:002020-08-08T16:29:58.797-04:00the way forward<p>It's been quiet on our homefront for the last month. We settled into a routine with morning walks, wonderful nannies in the morning while we work, naps and more work, then playing outside in the afternoons. </p><p>As work got busy we had less time to work on projects at the house, even in our "free" time, and if I'm being honest we also had less creative energy to use in that way. For the most part, all of our vision, adaptability, and creativity has gone into reimagining life at home (in the home), figuring out school for our kids, working and building a side business, and preparing to enter the new normal. (I won't even call it reentry because nothing about this is the same for us!)</p><p>Our boys are going back to school next week-- sort of-- and it seemed right to celebrate the "end of summer" at home. I feel nostalgia, sadness, fear, relief, and also excitement for the new adventures ahead. We are beginning to cast a vision for what life will be for our family going forward. So for the last month, we've prioritized summer fun: a neighbor's pool for the short time it was available, slip & slide in the backyard undeterred by a bee sting (mine), getting muddy at the well, painting outdoors, popsicles on the deck, and making ice cream with our nanny. It's been the summer of any kid's dreams.</p><p>To me the only way forward, and the only way to reinvigorate my enthusiasm for working on this property, is to celebrate how much it has served us all spring and summer. My kids played happily for months, even though they barely set foot anywhere else. We grew (and continue to grow) amazing vegetables in our garden with minimum attention. Our house comfortably gave us space to work, play, and sleep in all kinds of weather. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9sIvNejYblWE3uZwnib-4IMK8HbGqaDERNZtJ3ALU58-nb4QHDJb3a2xSyEO4f6XH5IItCmDe2X36uI-935_jwK7-0qsylu4cVBBnC8DyKrm4rHSGzEKzYewkyytAQ4PlYnpHUsQwWb_N/s2048/IMG_0874.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9sIvNejYblWE3uZwnib-4IMK8HbGqaDERNZtJ3ALU58-nb4QHDJb3a2xSyEO4f6XH5IItCmDe2X36uI-935_jwK7-0qsylu4cVBBnC8DyKrm4rHSGzEKzYewkyytAQ4PlYnpHUsQwWb_N/w640-h480/IMG_0874.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><p>Today we paid tribute to our endless summer by drawing a map of our property, complete with messy and imperfect and well-loved landmarks you may not recognize. We love it. It may not show us the way forward, but it shows us right where we are. </p><p>Be present, and I guess the rest will come. </p><p>My dad taught me, this is how we build a self. This is how we grow our bubble, our strength, our confidence, and our resiliency. We start with what we know right where we are, at the core. And then we go out a little further. Return, rest, and explore again. Make your own maps for what you find. Be a map-maker, and I'll never lose your way. </p>ggfbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17207676832135391479noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555002422118571072.post-73810032679054832232020-07-19T15:31:00.000-04:002020-07-19T15:31:15.438-04:00the literal rainbowLately when a summer storm brews, we see huge thunderheads looming, we hear rumbling in the not-too-distance, and we see a few drops. We run in from playing outside and watch from the window. Wonder if it will rain on the garden, we say. That will be nice, since we didn't water it today, we say. Will the thunder crash down our house? The boys ask. But the storm blows over in a few minutes. Barely any drops. <div><br /></div><div>Our garden suffers, so we drag out the sprinkler from the well to water it each day. Closer to the house, we've hooked up every water play gadget imaginable for the boys, too. Water tables, slip & slide, two different inflatable pools. Next up: water balloons. (For those who know me, I've been fully committed to the slip & slide fun and suffered two injuries already: a dramatic-looking bee sting on my face and a pulled muscle in my upper abs. Totally worth it.) </div><div><br /></div><div>Here's what we've learned about the storms that blow over quickly. They are the perfect conditions for a beautiful rainbow. Now we stay at the window a little longer and wait for it. And sometimes for our hungry eyes they appear, huge and arcing in vivid colors, filling the space from cloud to tree top. And then, again, they pass in a few minutes. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhheSKgfrEChXd030z6rbZpURL2kT6gftrEpfFpuQmqY4-6fr-JZ9QzNcCd2Rg3HU6SsrN3_6znlvCV-Dt24RzVOANrO4PzSQlfVqjCBbnfLN26MjX4L5Bxk_PTNtWft0se9q_nfBwCnisy/s4032/IMG_0753.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhheSKgfrEChXd030z6rbZpURL2kT6gftrEpfFpuQmqY4-6fr-JZ9QzNcCd2Rg3HU6SsrN3_6znlvCV-Dt24RzVOANrO4PzSQlfVqjCBbnfLN26MjX4L5Bxk_PTNtWft0se9q_nfBwCnisy/w640-h480/IMG_0753.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>I find that in life I try to hold on to things when I've figured them out. I want to freeze time and make it stay that way forever. Can you relate? Change is hard because wait, I've just got a good rhythm here. And inevitably, especially with kids, that's when things will shift again. It's like the thunderheads and the rainbows. The scary things don't last long. Sometimes the good things don't either. But they come again. And it's not mine to say how long the storm lasts (even when we need the water) or whether that rainbow shines today (even when we could use the distraction). We have to look for it, appreciate it when it comes, and then let it go. </div><div><br /></div><div>I wonder if this time at home will be the same. Part of me wants it to be over now. (Guess what, can't control that either.) And part of me wants to freeze it just like this, endless summer 2020. (Guess what, kids are already growing up.) </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjki0inQ7xyAMa9t4w_Ni-pdPLvv-c8jU2cYg36AQZN6W98pFnJUz7OoyB2PbsoDoQapo0diHFCgDveEU-ugTayHiXjA3a9AiKCMyWC0vMMDQtjhnTwh4IoNzTIakUlJl7WHK3FTbHcBKdR/s4032/IMG_0779.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjki0inQ7xyAMa9t4w_Ni-pdPLvv-c8jU2cYg36AQZN6W98pFnJUz7OoyB2PbsoDoQapo0diHFCgDveEU-ugTayHiXjA3a9AiKCMyWC0vMMDQtjhnTwh4IoNzTIakUlJl7WHK3FTbHcBKdR/w480-h640/IMG_0779.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div>One thing is for sure. I'm so glad I wasn't too scared of it. Of the big sky and the adventure here, or the time at home, or leaving the law firm ages ago, or having kids, or starting a blog, or starting it again, or launching a <a href="www.essentiallychip.com">side hustle</a>. Because when I let it arrive there is so much goodness. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4wyCgauciGZ-CKrzm-JhpUvsSy0P1_3Wf08Qhzol2-m2V1DZVRrvCHKZD7qcbeLQrDk8TKG2ZKY4cN76CY6Q9QUsDbcNjRjloiXPFo1bYf2LbxERvEgfE7CPlIpmR2OB3dRhuHkaDz7zG/s4032/IMG_0749.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4wyCgauciGZ-CKrzm-JhpUvsSy0P1_3Wf08Qhzol2-m2V1DZVRrvCHKZD7qcbeLQrDk8TKG2ZKY4cN76CY6Q9QUsDbcNjRjloiXPFo1bYf2LbxERvEgfE7CPlIpmR2OB3dRhuHkaDz7zG/w480-h640/IMG_0749.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDjfSvPNIxew2f05U1Jhcjo55MaeyzEllDv3Cjeroa0zgu1JoU5nMeUMN-GuazUjehh6kRKSfRwPJd_sKfAXisvPpTuQrdUZwhvbT_2PWGOcuUvGOXDb0K3kqpjeFUT9PcJNdnfJSg49Ud/s4032/IMG_0676.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDjfSvPNIxew2f05U1Jhcjo55MaeyzEllDv3Cjeroa0zgu1JoU5nMeUMN-GuazUjehh6kRKSfRwPJd_sKfAXisvPpTuQrdUZwhvbT_2PWGOcuUvGOXDb0K3kqpjeFUT9PcJNdnfJSg49Ud/w480-h640/IMG_0676.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div>This isn't an ominous way of saying I'm shutting down the blog-- it's here to stay. But I'm just thinking a lot about starts and stops in life, seasons of life, and how we can't be scared to start something new. I was scared, but I did it anyway. And those are the things I'm most proud of. What's the thing you want to start? What baby step can you take toward it today? </div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, what else are we doing? Trying to keep the overgrown garden alive (I grew that golden beet!) and waiting (impatiently) for the tomatoes to ripen. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDDUOGbqW0v3IMJ2eB6QEHp2j8MSUQw7j90eZu2T8y_i-yINhYMgi5hgVqFBNTBjZv-EuEimAIJduXjgC6-LE1C0u1Ums-evUHInZ5by4xjHolOYsC2Brh2aFXwjtl0Mq_Yy-KhDkmeYi0/s4032/IMG_0717.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDDUOGbqW0v3IMJ2eB6QEHp2j8MSUQw7j90eZu2T8y_i-yINhYMgi5hgVqFBNTBjZv-EuEimAIJduXjgC6-LE1C0u1Ums-evUHInZ5by4xjHolOYsC2Brh2aFXwjtl0Mq_Yy-KhDkmeYi0/w640-h480/IMG_0717.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div>We are visiting the pool next door on the weekends until it closes. Savoring naptime and the help from our wonderful babysitters until they leave us in August. Wishing we had time to do more house projects, but knowing it's too hot anyway. We'd love to tackle painting the barn doors, painting the stairs to the attic, replacing the kitchen faucet, and some fences to protect the peach trees. I can't be in a hurry because it's too much. But we did get a new electric smoker (!!) for the deck and finished up AC in the attic for our workspaces. </div><div><br /></div><div>We'll be here, if you need us. Looking for literal rainbows in the storm.</div>ggfbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17207676832135391479noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555002422118571072.post-67552621223322267812020-06-04T16:37:00.000-04:002020-06-04T16:37:04.541-04:00summerweightSummer's here early. It's hot and humid. And outside of our pastoral bubble, the world is full of anxiety and anger and concern. No one is sure anymore. <div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggB0Yc3BIPryx_OtQ0srt0JLkrQKLNSiWQEQuOUktSVjqFDA1MOlKaf6NhXzwnBNqH_hmBSbCs5LZUWYN9XnzZna2fjXBVATtrwXsCysEbgjNwR3sEl-wvIrekteTOYaqLzDcCOvDGyOBa/s4032/IMG_0616.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggB0Yc3BIPryx_OtQ0srt0JLkrQKLNSiWQEQuOUktSVjqFDA1MOlKaf6NhXzwnBNqH_hmBSbCs5LZUWYN9XnzZna2fjXBVATtrwXsCysEbgjNwR3sEl-wvIrekteTOYaqLzDcCOvDGyOBa/w640-h480/IMG_0616.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzHEbGpbcZibDtsc2mnFMCBE6Pp1WJ7T4kK32DFuBR-Opbl7yErWkC-p3d2Dv88uw6DvCZTHhy9OgpYQXKD2eJZ-2IrtHqm0d4YdgRog1LIZuNYWEA1wqRaLE6bHOivmQBGpP563psMTG1/s4032/IMG_0617.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzHEbGpbcZibDtsc2mnFMCBE6Pp1WJ7T4kK32DFuBR-Opbl7yErWkC-p3d2Dv88uw6DvCZTHhy9OgpYQXKD2eJZ-2IrtHqm0d4YdgRog1LIZuNYWEA1wqRaLE6bHOivmQBGpP563psMTG1/w640-h480/IMG_0617.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvWvsVx262MyhB_3uyHFd3YEnrkrto5IWxxkkRKhMZtOzWulk6mKqLpCT-B51OR9-7V1vA5mXAFumbQue75MeMXydYrR56M9lKC3PzP8oimhCSYv400pRdGJ-S_CLOMVliUqnnDdG6xqjc/s4032/IMG_0623.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvWvsVx262MyhB_3uyHFd3YEnrkrto5IWxxkkRKhMZtOzWulk6mKqLpCT-B51OR9-7V1vA5mXAFumbQue75MeMXydYrR56M9lKC3PzP8oimhCSYv400pRdGJ-S_CLOMVliUqnnDdG6xqjc/w640-h480/IMG_0623.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3WM80-hMzlRb6dfriAhFyPHvgL1YDgrL9Vo43F02SrbLLEmPdPbmzQWzoSveb_haSsOBGAYh1ny6xWv5d5H14j88z0-Fu2cPTxVpelgw8WfJLV_N_lRQyJ1SQO4H_pcENEPLJpTSu5Ot5/s4032/IMG_0619.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3WM80-hMzlRb6dfriAhFyPHvgL1YDgrL9Vo43F02SrbLLEmPdPbmzQWzoSveb_haSsOBGAYh1ny6xWv5d5H14j88z0-Fu2cPTxVpelgw8WfJLV_N_lRQyJ1SQO4H_pcENEPLJpTSu5Ot5/w640-h480/IMG_0619.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOVM0tRkv7ZhPV4zRGOv_Gk_d9oH5tdTCkzrd_Mf_cSepRrOqryzKE_Lpi9PKnF1rVps2YdzG3YO2kdQeqXdqRi82O7VX3eqbbrYLp1jFL4lg71K-jWDJ55ZQ_z2ZR552k8HGjHqnbwp0R/s4032/IMG_0626.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOVM0tRkv7ZhPV4zRGOv_Gk_d9oH5tdTCkzrd_Mf_cSepRrOqryzKE_Lpi9PKnF1rVps2YdzG3YO2kdQeqXdqRi82O7VX3eqbbrYLp1jFL4lg71K-jWDJ55ZQ_z2ZR552k8HGjHqnbwp0R/w640-h480/IMG_0626.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnqA1R4RorTtT3lep65If0B-yva1yMYXPjP7DWm8_MZx6icxkbxZeGwoui2Wvx63vZPkKvPqbnQKYG0yHZs0bMQ_BLJL8ceLJ1n6KOtV9R5AcK64x4LWob8qJpnFuakabLmYsC9jNlrDCr/s4032/IMG_0559.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnqA1R4RorTtT3lep65If0B-yva1yMYXPjP7DWm8_MZx6icxkbxZeGwoui2Wvx63vZPkKvPqbnQKYG0yHZs0bMQ_BLJL8ceLJ1n6KOtV9R5AcK64x4LWob8qJpnFuakabLmYsC9jNlrDCr/w480-h640/IMG_0559.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><div>There are a few things to be sure of, when we look outside. We watch the 4 hummingbirds fight over 6 seats at the feeder. The sugar snap peas are falling off the trellis from their own weight. The birds eat the blueberries before we ever see them. The snakes are hiding quietly in the grass. The deer are having babies. Nature's routines reflect our (human) own. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAkctZ53UlQpq0_NLxlv4p0SEHnmYLEJPFN-6PBJjklS4W-6AgI0jCDzvdcTX5okv7OAUYpJGOs9my4WL209quN-9mJ7lO8ar8Tv3uVTNTZ8cYe0d8HIkRYlv7z6b_PyE5nVD3jngWkgXI/s4032/IMG_0645.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAkctZ53UlQpq0_NLxlv4p0SEHnmYLEJPFN-6PBJjklS4W-6AgI0jCDzvdcTX5okv7OAUYpJGOs9my4WL209quN-9mJ7lO8ar8Tv3uVTNTZ8cYe0d8HIkRYlv7z6b_PyE5nVD3jngWkgXI/w480-h640/IMG_0645.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div>Meanwhile, we are leaning in to what works at home. We garden and we play. We work upstairs with the help of a few trusted friends to babysit and grandparents who can help occasionally with the boys. We have groceries delivered. We try to exercise and we forget what day it is. We don't plan on going back to "normal," whatever that means, anytime soon. </div><div><br /></div><div>(Rather, we are persistent in the hope that what lies ahead is better than normal.)</div><div><p class="MsoNormal">I am stubbornly committed to new normal. Selfishly, for myself and my family. So I can work from anywhere and enjoy the
sunshine. So my kids can play in the mud
and read books with me in the middle of the day. But also for the nature of our work. For empathy, compassion, and justice in our
society. For showing up authentically
and without fear. The new normal of
being ourselves, loving ourselves, and caring for each other. <o:p></o:p></p></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbEv1rXsjz66XZ5P_gIezYO9QKUF1YBX7V7Ln8GIr1sdFjNm9rV1pFgo2hZ1Ywywo3KhPtambXyJ2_0U0PKzVb3AnqRJdWxVBb810gHofHAevoKXQULRCubI5SvnyHGB9dgsvNAL058064/s4032/IMG_0597.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbEv1rXsjz66XZ5P_gIezYO9QKUF1YBX7V7Ln8GIr1sdFjNm9rV1pFgo2hZ1Ywywo3KhPtambXyJ2_0U0PKzVb3AnqRJdWxVBb810gHofHAevoKXQULRCubI5SvnyHGB9dgsvNAL058064/w480-h640/IMG_0597.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTWSZ-xSFdJFLjsVQVbKief9W9lXWInL8qND2A3H1C8NoYk7z7Z1z2SgrsN2h38XBkwgoEVvMIraAUHNmds0_SVsrgHkhp7xkbywsS7v3-7EAOBdUrNhJCuJo_wt7FoY2qLqswBzhzQjZH/s4032/IMG_0554.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTWSZ-xSFdJFLjsVQVbKief9W9lXWInL8qND2A3H1C8NoYk7z7Z1z2SgrsN2h38XBkwgoEVvMIraAUHNmds0_SVsrgHkhp7xkbywsS7v3-7EAOBdUrNhJCuJo_wt7FoY2qLqswBzhzQjZH/w480-h640/IMG_0554.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div>While we wait here, we try to make small improvements in the house still. We put in air conditioning on one side in our attic space where we work, and now we are doubling down because my side is still hot. A dear friend sewed a beautiful table skirt for me to help conceal the attic boxes that cluttered up my workspace. I picked up my office chair and plants from work to make it more comfortable still. </div><div><br /></div><div>Downstairs we continue to treat swarming termites who reemerged before Memorial Day and totally threw us off our axis. (I guess we should have known.) We bought a new mattress and a rug, in an effort to make our living and sleeping space as comfortable as we can while we are here. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYxDhnF3YyHb7nupcEliPBXJXlrpHSv8Y_pfUiJoyFb71xyTYWg63tnLfiusxldA9RSscxb-szU288cK-jBMNfm96MhwavJO7i6KLSt5WFEr8LFAEgMNfTb3Owq4qZuOYq6oX5Dg84Ip8E/s4032/IMG_0516.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYxDhnF3YyHb7nupcEliPBXJXlrpHSv8Y_pfUiJoyFb71xyTYWg63tnLfiusxldA9RSscxb-szU288cK-jBMNfm96MhwavJO7i6KLSt5WFEr8LFAEgMNfTb3Owq4qZuOYq6oX5Dg84Ip8E/w480-h640/IMG_0516.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXfz1dVEzAa_9vHQLS81RfIX70qRIFtSTiMqzWdGPqKubE8_H3PbjE5JIzdskw_QkEBKA4wus5dzBZ1vMuqqk5xYdpU62bGLOLF-DQ5D9-V3xTfXF_-j5Z07EbNjFlUmZG7kgoWgvxei2Y/s4032/IMG_0517.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXfz1dVEzAa_9vHQLS81RfIX70qRIFtSTiMqzWdGPqKubE8_H3PbjE5JIzdskw_QkEBKA4wus5dzBZ1vMuqqk5xYdpU62bGLOLF-DQ5D9-V3xTfXF_-j5Z07EbNjFlUmZG7kgoWgvxei2Y/w480-h640/IMG_0517.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><div></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7BWjgYvyXyIjPDFoRx6a6GA0pe9NOnzh8C-nnE8pN01qD8Q5ph8S2udONJgwUsUjQm9QkkYbitPskawvzmyXcCZcFTM1hF9CqmmxgkOo1XtvbU5nmhziAlhJ5GWjP8FuByyz0i4IOcfgw/s4032/IMG_0520.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7BWjgYvyXyIjPDFoRx6a6GA0pe9NOnzh8C-nnE8pN01qD8Q5ph8S2udONJgwUsUjQm9QkkYbitPskawvzmyXcCZcFTM1hF9CqmmxgkOo1XtvbU5nmhziAlhJ5GWjP8FuByyz0i4IOcfgw/w320-h240/IMG_0520.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyAbW4v_TJmXypq8-TbYdvEFOc7wS_vqS3nURSlqpK3N_GJWb-sA8Vtz9VwYPz2_XEkNs0F6ncJ4qpxWlVUBFC7yIH7Dnwmctd6tn3Tj_Jl0Dqrv7azv17EXlY8Q5IM559PrWxAu3AeJof/s4032/IMG_0594.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyAbW4v_TJmXypq8-TbYdvEFOc7wS_vqS3nURSlqpK3N_GJWb-sA8Vtz9VwYPz2_XEkNs0F6ncJ4qpxWlVUBFC7yIH7Dnwmctd6tn3Tj_Jl0Dqrv7azv17EXlY8Q5IM559PrWxAu3AeJof/w320-h240/IMG_0594.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(You love a before-and-after, right? I'll get there.) </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>We did some work outside, too, planting more fruit and tons of vegetables. We used tree-cutting mulch to clean up the front area around new azaleas, new viburnum plantings, and existing peonies.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFHlxH4pGu6gV1pvs24i_y-RXkzGG5ZOXidC7GHDkCTTpFG3gBykoeDKvdppBWtiPvEBXXHIobKJtj1LzkI2fLQQEcr7wJM4aKDf2QV4b4TjKst_G0ZB1q3AgxS4iB-Qe5tYZMXh0egvLe/s4032/IMG_0487.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFHlxH4pGu6gV1pvs24i_y-RXkzGG5ZOXidC7GHDkCTTpFG3gBykoeDKvdppBWtiPvEBXXHIobKJtj1LzkI2fLQQEcr7wJM4aKDf2QV4b4TjKst_G0ZB1q3AgxS4iB-Qe5tYZMXh0egvLe/w640-h480/IMG_0487.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ3HdcS2cHN2PT0flIcVO-wbvgU5z-lG3FoEH8eH1330DGaFWEBadFJARdlqDhEiDRN6wVlfrDIRMRK_F32fyoE4IJwhOrAwe4WDnffyEheh-OXNe51x1HcV6SjGDxOPNOfoWTIBaUgzx5/s4032/IMG_0481.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ3HdcS2cHN2PT0flIcVO-wbvgU5z-lG3FoEH8eH1330DGaFWEBadFJARdlqDhEiDRN6wVlfrDIRMRK_F32fyoE4IJwhOrAwe4WDnffyEheh-OXNe51x1HcV6SjGDxOPNOfoWTIBaUgzx5/w480-h640/IMG_0481.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFJ7PxMIV8NJ5eMySzuDdjZOsFfzbYUz0IUXU9cf9kzVHwoQNjhrG2E5SE3J-2j2KCQ2f_sXk2s6XmcD7Bj86sd-VIdAWh63RlEMfF9sH83ARcNEmzsZPY-krCnz1djFAAf-ngCnplHfpK/s4032/IMG_0488.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFJ7PxMIV8NJ5eMySzuDdjZOsFfzbYUz0IUXU9cf9kzVHwoQNjhrG2E5SE3J-2j2KCQ2f_sXk2s6XmcD7Bj86sd-VIdAWh63RlEMfF9sH83ARcNEmzsZPY-krCnz1djFAAf-ngCnplHfpK/w480-h640/IMG_0488.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>In many ways I can feel myself clinging to the time of covid, selfishly for my family. We are thriving. But I know this won't, can't, and should never be forever. It's a moment in time for our family and for the world, heavy with uncertainty about the future but buzzing with clarity about what matters now. </div><div><br /></div><div>I think as some people restlessly return to normal lives, some desperately grieve what has been lost, and others charge ahead to reimagining the future, I might miss the solidarity of the covid crisis. Knowing we were in it together, staying home, one team, together and apart. Knowing there was nowhere to go and nothing else to do. The decisions can be the hardest part, and we have many that lie ahead. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisEJrOBr9lWmFuvW0_ow9JUFHU51_32q-2iEETq-YRw419GA9k0RYb6QIxFoXL55hIEt5T3Iw_kO-1rGDIlbDsBnlCBjzeUu0SgprLtbewHZHdnRcn4fUjlsUFg9skg8C1oTczP07J8KZf/s4032/IMG_0544.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisEJrOBr9lWmFuvW0_ow9JUFHU51_32q-2iEETq-YRw419GA9k0RYb6QIxFoXL55hIEt5T3Iw_kO-1rGDIlbDsBnlCBjzeUu0SgprLtbewHZHdnRcn4fUjlsUFg9skg8C1oTczP07J8KZf/w640-h480/IMG_0544.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>We can't go back, we can't yet go forward. But we are transforming. And we build strength in that good work. Please, let's don't go back to normal. Let's be still and get it right this time. Let's take care of ourselves and, when we're ready, show up-- for real this time. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>ggfbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17207676832135391479noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555002422118571072.post-38831868414613013132020-05-06T14:22:00.001-04:002020-05-06T14:23:18.600-04:00magnoliaIt's impossible to capture in pictures the magic of this giant magnolia in our front yard, near the road. It's by far the biggest I've ever seen.<br />
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It's its own world. She has huge branches, strong and sprawling and tangled, creating a giant canopy and her own ecosystem underneath. We find smaller trees, moss, and a blanket of leaves. It's cooler and a great place to climb and explore.<br />
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4 1/2-year-old boy for scale.<br />
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We've planted smaller volunteer magnolias elsewhere in the yard when they pop up, in the hopes we can grow her great-grandchildren all around. Thank you, beautiful magnolia, for the shade and the roots.<br />
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<br />ggfbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17207676832135391479noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555002422118571072.post-86013870525756075962020-04-24T20:06:00.002-04:002020-04-24T20:06:54.733-04:00the tape keeps rollingI'm not sure I've had time to grieve what's happening.<br />
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I've intentionally and necessarily kept busy organizing, adapting, stashing, meal planning, grocery ordering, lesson planning, journaling, setting up a home office, entertaining my kids, planting seeds, digging in the garden, lawyering remotely, setting up Zoom calls, drafting legal guidance, conducting Teams workshops, and avoiding the news. I've mostly been living.<br />
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And frankly we have so much to be grateful for out here that I won't allow myself a thought that even feels like a complaint. The result, however, is a harsh and continual form of self-assessment. With every feeling, moment of success, or perceived failure, I am constantly evaluating my performance and my status in quarantine. I am attempting to evaluate myself in this crisis. Am I "good" at it? Do I like being with my kids all day? Would I rather work from home all the time? Am I the <i>kind of person</i> who likes being home in quarantine? Am I the <i>kind of person </i>who does not? Am I the <i>kind of person</i> who organizes activities for her kids or lets them run feral or lets them have too much screen time? Am I the <i>kind of person </i>who takes on big projects right now? Am I the <i>kind of person</i> who watches 90s television when the kids go to bed? (The last two are easy actually: I am both.)<br />
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This perpetual state of judgment is exhausting, unhelpful, and basically irrelevant. We are here. Right now. I can't do anything else about it. There is good. There is bad. There is hard. There is comfortable. There is joy. There is anger. I can give myself permission to just feel a feeling and let it pass, without calling my whole life into question, then we keep on going. The Earth keeps spinning. The tape keeps rolling.<br />
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I've been reminding myself of this a lot: I can feel, without having to decide. I can struggle, without judgment. I can be happy, and let that be enough. I can become something new, without knowing what it will be (!).<br />
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I also use the mantra <i>the tape keeps rolling</i> as I am riding the wave of days and weeks at home with two preschoolers. In the past, our days were full of transitions and hardcuts to work and school and back. It was easy for me to say "We had a bad morning" and try again tonight. Or tomorrow. Or next weekend. Now, since we are together 24/7, we have lots of ups and downs. BIG ups documented on Instagram. BIG downs where I yell at them like I never thought I would. But here's the difference: <i>the tape keeps rolling</i>. We get a million redos. We rage, and then we are still sitting together on the floor. We giggle, and I blink, and they are still here. The tape keeps rolling. It all kind of makes more sense now, in the context of a million moments strung together.<br />
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We planted peach trees today, breaking up the clay with shovels and soil amendment and rescuing any precious earthworms who came wriggling out. I staked up the delicate trunks. My son said he hopes they like their new home. I thanked them for the fruit we would enjoy. If they make it, I think I'll always remember that we planted those trees and started our mini-orchard during this time.<br />
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How am I doing? I am tired. But I am grateful. I am committed to staying grateful and staying open. I am trying to let the moments and the feelings and the struggle just come and go. To follow my intuition about what small, courageous thing I might start today. What I might write for you. To know this time is special and uncertain and out of my control. To let it change me into something I do not yet know but was always supposed to be. <br />
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Maybe it is worth grieving what is lost, maybe I should, but I don't feel sad. And instead of judging myself for that (shouldn't I be irretrievably sad? what about all the people suffering? hello guilt and privilege!), I have permission to feel it and let it be. <br />
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Right now I am not sad. Right now the sun is shining. Right now the earth is spinning. The tape keeps rolling.ggfbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17207676832135391479noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555002422118571072.post-84376772577385423262020-04-19T13:37:00.002-04:002020-04-19T13:37:45.964-04:00lessening the fear A year ago, I couldn't identify a sycamore tree, poison ivy, a groundhog, or a termite. I didn't know how to hold a chainsaw. I couldn't distinguish among heirloom tomato leaves to identify them as seedlings. It had been years since I'd built a fire or put up a tent. <br />
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I had never worn through a pair of work gloves. I didn't know how to lower a mower deck on a riding lawnmower, steer a zero-turn, or lift a tractor bucket. I had never driven a pick-up truck on the grass with a beer and no seatbelt (sorry, mom). I hadn't dug four-foot holes to unearth concrete blocks or transplant volunteer trees. I had never stripped wallpaper, repaired a fence, built a fence, felled a tree, or cleaned out a bird box.<br />
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<span style="text-align: center;">I also had never made a mud kitchen, flew a balsa glider, eaten tomatoes off the vine, or gone fishing with a stick in a stream. I had never skipped rocks on a river... my own river. Grown my own watermelon to eat on a picnic blanket on a hot summer day. Driven just a few miles up the road to pick up milk from my neighbors' cows. </span><br />
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This morning we cleared out more young trees and scraggly vines around this towering, beautiful landmark at the edge of the woods. It changes the view from "What's back there?" to "Oh, how inviting!" Kevin and I cut trees and limbs and dragged them back into the woods while the boys played in and out of the pickup truck, running the field, climbing the fence.<br />
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We also finally replaced the garbage bags over the bright windows in our "guest" room (nap room, since we rarely have guests) with expensive shades. The windows are an unusual size (surprise!), not level (you're shocked, I know) and crammed up against the closet doors (why we will never know). This made them almost impossible to cover with normal curtains. After a few false starts we managed to find cordless roman black-out shades that coordinate with the bed and block the light to create a cozy space to rest.<br />
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This year has been so full of new experiences. I have conquered fears and learned new skills and shed a million layers I didn't need. (Almost typed lawyers, ha, I have shed those too.) I have given my kids experiences that I hope will shape their sense of confidence and balance forever. Sometimes I hardly recognize myself, except... I do. This version of me feels more familiar and true. I feel like I am on the right path.<br />
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In a few more years, we will laugh at how naive we were (even now, after almost a year of living here). We might remember how many mistakes we made. I hope we remember how proud we were each time we figured something out. How much fun it was to try. And how satisfying it was every time we completed a project. How the fear lessened and made room for joy.<br />
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My friend Lucinda, in her online yoga class yesterday, read a passage about a conversation between the self and the universe. The self says, I am falling apart! Help me put myself back together. And the universe says, I will not. You are not a puzzle. You don't need to be put back together. You are shedding. Only put back what you need. You are growing. You are becoming who you are supposed to be. <br />
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Who are you becoming?, Luci asked. What are you willing to let go of?ggfbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17207676832135391479noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555002422118571072.post-475987024717212352020-04-19T13:08:00.002-04:002020-04-19T13:08:31.089-04:00spring is here I've heard it said, spring is not canceled. Even if everything else is! We are fully in the hard work and beauty of spring here, with seedlings filling up the sunroom, weeds popping up everywhere, projects to be done, pollen blanketing all surfaces, and windows open anyway. <br />
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We've already had several rounds out mowing, taking turns between "homeschool" and real work and all the housework. It's a welcome break to ride along for a while, listening to music or podcasts or just the loud hum of the engine. The nights are still getting chilly so we haven't planted out the garden yet, but plenty of early spring veggies are already growing.<br />
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We finally finished clearing out all of the hideous overgrown honeysuckle and vines around this magnolia and dogwood near the road. When we started, the masses were about triple my height wide and double overhead.<br />
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Here are the very early starters in the garden that have already started to thrive: sugar snap peas, lettuce mix, broccoli starters, spinach still going from last fall, kale, and tiny sprouts for parsnips, beets, chard, and pak choi. Soon we'll add peppers, more herbs, and tomatoes to the mix.<br />
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Every season brings new joys and new challenges. We have so much to look forward to.<br />
<br />ggfbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17207676832135391479noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555002422118571072.post-47308789419439000052020-04-02T14:52:00.001-04:002020-04-02T14:52:02.182-04:00incredible skyAnd still this life takes my breath away. No filter panorama.<br />
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<br />ggfbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17207676832135391479noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555002422118571072.post-63283780020439699352020-03-28T20:37:00.002-04:002020-03-28T20:37:37.887-04:00one day at homeIt's a strange and lonely time, with everyone in the world under a stay-at-home order. To say the least. <br />
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We are all adjusting to isolation and uncertainty and anxiety and a feeling of scarcity. Our family is overwhelmingly grateful for this space we have, of nature and breathing room and beauty and possibility. Abundance. We are so thankful to be "stuck" here. I see the silver linings everywhere, of our time together and the focus on this place we have wanted to transform and make our own. It's challenging all the things I said I wanted, as only life can do. Investing the energy and love to help our dream grow. To garden and grow the homestead, which is the only thing that isn't weird right now! We are dreaming of an orchard, a chicken coop, puppies, and a tree house. Big stuff that is possible when we are all at home.<br />
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We also have to take it one day at a time. It is too much. The pressures of our daily work, with no childcare or other outside support, plus the care and feeding of the household with strange grocery situations and shortages, and attention on our own health and sanity. Layering on big expectations for how to use our land is just... a lot. <br />
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It's important to us to do it right, little by little. So if I think beyond today I feel overwhelmed. If I focus on today I know I have everything I need and the next steps are clear.<br />
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Today, get up. Eat Phoebe's biscuits for breakfast. Make eggs. Let the boys play (no "school" today). Plant blueberries. Mow. Eat lunch. Take naps. Mow some more. All the boys go pick up beer at the pallet sale while I do yoga. Play outside. Eat dinner. Bedtime battle. Quiet. Blog post.<br />
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So here we are. <br />
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Kevin and I have been dividing up our days-- weekdays and weekends so far-- to tackle all that has to be done and keep some mental breathing room. We've been great partners, as usual, and keeping our compassion. The other night he suggested I go for a walk outside while he cleaned up the kitchen. I said, yes.<br />
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I followed deer tracks in the cove to a beautiful view up the gulley and across the field to the sunset.<br />
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What a gift to step outside in to this light.<br />
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In the garden, sugar snap peas have are growing. Beets and parsnips and lettuce have sprouted. Kale and herbs are doing well in the deck planters. And tons of seedlings are waiting patiently in the sunroom for the warm weather that has finally arrived. April will no doubt be a time of growth and hope right where we are.<br />
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But I am only thinking about today. And today, I am grateful.ggfbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17207676832135391479noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555002422118571072.post-21762639160240073592020-03-23T14:16:00.002-04:002020-03-23T14:16:36.881-04:00deadnettlei mourn the loss<br />
of what i remember as the richness of daily life,<br />
coming and going.<br />
<br />
the dynamics that make it flow:<br />
loud/quiet, in/out, work/home, empty/full<br />
drowned out by the constant din<br />
of the demands on a mother,<br />
shelter in place.<br />
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but i see under foot<br />
the deadnettle blooming<br />
sometimes blurry with sadness<br />
or laser-sharp in gratitude.<br />
i say, the only thing<br />
i needed more of<br />
was this.<br />
and the rainbow in a pot of lentils, a million shades of brown<br />
<br />
do you think the birds<br />
can convince my panicked heart<br />
to stay and love?ggfbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17207676832135391479noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555002422118571072.post-31199788449805246342020-02-23T11:04:00.000-05:002020-02-24T13:04:47.254-05:00cradle of lifeMy favorite thing about where we live is that I am constantly learning something new. And some of the opportunities to learn feel like they come out of nowhere. The literally pop up (groundhogs), fall from the sky (tree limbs), or appear out of nowhere (swarming termites). In this case, right underfoot in the river.<br />
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Our friend at camp next door asked me if I'd like to come learn about 620 million-year-old fossils in the river just upstream. <i>Um, heck yes I would! </i> He'd arranged for a visit from state geologists, who as a community have been studying a fossil site in the South Fork Little River after it was first discovered in 1976. It was at that time a huge discovery because it was, and still is, the oldest known fossil in North America. Huge worm fossils. 620 million years old. Evidence of very early life, hundreds of millions of years before dinosaurs. <i>What?</i> Right there among arrowheads and flint, field stones from colonial farms, the mill site from the town of South Lowell in the 1850s, trash from the 1920s roadbed, and our modern-day footprints. I told my friend, <i>apparently we live in the freaking cradle of life</i>. </div>
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The history here is overwhelming sometimes; I feel a huge responsibility to know it, understand it, honor it, and it's really too much. But it's also encouraging on bad days when I think, people (worms?) have been living here for thousands (millions?) of years. With the ridiculous luxury of the resources I have, I can absolutely do this, too. </div>
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So despite heavy rainfall and high water levels, the scientists came to show us the fossil site. We hiked upstream and soaked up every bit of knowledge we could from them. We geeked out taking notes and looking closely and showing off cool rocks we have found in the river. </div>
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On the hike up, the geologist pointed out that we were now on county land, preserved for a number of reasons due to environmental, historical, and cultural significance. The many chips of flint scattered underfoot are "trash" from precolonial Native American camps hundreds or even thousands of years ago. The Native Americans who remained at camp were testing pieces of rock to see if they were suitable for arrowheads, working them methodically to see if they would make a good point or sharp edges. Everywhere around us. Less than a hundred yards ahead, the tiny waterfall and old mill wall that made South Lowell a town in the 1840s. We hiked down onto the rocks downstream from the mill wall. He pointed out circular drill holes and the area where the fossil was removed 50 years ago. </div>
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He told us the fossil has been at the Smithsonian since then, with a smaller piece in Raleigh at the North Carolina museum. Another sample was found in 2017 by a group of students visiting the same site. </div>
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He taught us the basics about sedimentary, metamorphic, and volcanic rock and showed examples all around us from the "Carolina Terrane." Where we are was once a coastline and active site of plate tectonic transformation. Just east and downstream was an active volcano, so just a mile down the road would show completely different types of rock. But fossils can only appear in sedimentary rock where they are trapped and preserved between layers formed over time. He showed us a few examples of typical types of rock, joints, fissures, and other geological features. </div>
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But we were there to see the worm fossils, you guys! Over 50 years, scientists have developed competing theories over the nature of the worm fossils and how they were formed. The first theory in the 70s was that they were "body fossils" imprinted by the worms themselves in between layers of rock. Later this theory was challenged because the shape of each worm was so similar. So a scientist in the 90s theorized that the squiggles were actually the result of pebble movement between shifting rocks in plate movement. But by the 2000s, scientists found that this was not possible because of the other rocks around it; instead, they believe the squiggles are "trace fossils" resulting from worm tails/secretions as the worms waved and drifted in water currents. Like footprints of very early life. This theory was confirmed by the students who visited in 2017 and discovered the additional fossil. </div>
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Bless his heart, the geologist even brought us an example printed to scale so we can see exactly what was present in the fossil site. Those worms were big, y'all! I was picturing microscopic but I was way off. He demonstrated how the worms might have left trails with foam and paper models. And of course now we are desperate to find another worm somewhere in the rocks. To feel like we are a part of the history and making our own imprint. </div>
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On the hike back, I felt so incredibly grateful for this opportunity to investigate and learn. I felt validated in some ways by the scientific interest in this place. <i>It's not just me, somehow this is important in a bigger way. It's worth it. </i>The geologist spent a little more time with us to look at vertical outcropping of rock and a few samples we had found, explaining the plate shifting and hydrothermal change that happened during collisions of plates hundreds of millions of years ago. The river has washed away all of the soil and rotten rock, revealing these records for us when the water level is low. </div>
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The experience motivated me to continue to take care of the river, the wetlands, the land, and the history within our reach. I launched myself back into Orange County historical records to learn more about the families that lived here with the knowledge and resources at my fingertips. I am good at researching and digesting huge amounts of information. Kevin challenged me to write the story of this place. I like the idea that I'm putting those skills to good use, and I'm not the only one devoting some energy to the preservation of what's good and true in the Carolina Terrane. </div>
ggfbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17207676832135391479noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555002422118571072.post-6283737204143339602020-02-22T10:26:00.003-05:002020-02-24T13:04:23.129-05:00better brussels sprouts<br />
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It’s been a long time since I wrote about food. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The last recipe I posted was election day, about 4 year
ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A lot’s happened since then. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The election didn’t turn out the way I wanted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That felt like an all-time low. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A blow to the foundational optimism that has
carried my generation, the older millennials, like a wave into adulthood. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I had another baby a couple of months later and became a mom
of two. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It changed my identity and
challenged my patience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
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I went back to work and took on new responsibility for a new
area of law and a new geographic area of business.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I stepped up to a professional platform that
would make me useful, challenged, in growth. Before making the decision I spent
time uncovering my professional values, which would be guideposts for every
decision and every action on my to-do list since:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>autonomy, credibility, relationships,
lifelong learning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If it serves those 4
values, then I’m in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If not, I’m
out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those key values are now the linchpin
for my professional life. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I started setting goals for my personal life so that I didn’t
get swallowed up in the life of 2 kids under 2.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I practiced yoga, I paid off my student loans, I celebrated my 10<sup>th</sup>
wedding anniversary with a trip to Iceland. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Then we bought a farm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Not a working farm, as you know, but the 200-year-old house and 16 acres
that would be an emblem of choosing a new lifestyle over typical lawyerly
success in the suburbs. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>New ideas that
felt like oxygen to the bloodstream. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;">We renovated it, we bushhogged, I kept working. </span><span style="text-align: center;">Our kids got bigger.</span><span style="text-align: center;"> </span><span style="text-align: center;">I canceled our Amazon subscription for
diapers.</span><span style="text-align: center;"> </span><span style="text-align: center;">Thanks to encouragement from my
friends, I still blogged to remember the experience of our renovation and transformation
in Bahama.</span><span style="text-align: center;"> </span><span style="text-align: center;">But all this time I wasn't cooking much.</span><br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Recently I pulled out the cookbooks again, just to flip
through.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I reserved a few new ones at
the library that sparked my imagination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>From time to time I have made a mess in the kitchen or tried a baking
recipe with the kids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It felt good.</div>
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The thing is, I have always wanted to be a writer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still want to be a writer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To be a writer you have to write every
day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew this when I was a kid,
actually, I wrote short stories and poems and journaled constantly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went to creative writing camp and read
books on how to write a publishing proposal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Even in high school when I believed in divine moments of inspiration
rather than discipline I would pull my car over to jot down a poem on a piece
of paper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But to be a writer you have to
write every day. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have to show up to do
the work. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I also want to be a cook.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>To be a cook you have to, well, cook regularly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
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What else?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to
be a gardener, a farmer, a loving and encouraging wife, a positive and
nurturing mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to be an
entrepreneur.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to be a healthy,
growing human.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to be an inspiring
friend and leader. <o:p></o:p></div>
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All of these things require daily practice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead of waiting for divine inspiration, I
think I’ll put in the work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
experiences over the last 4 years—the great discipline of discovering my values
and who I want to be and taking steps both tiny and huge to reach them and
letting go of the rest—have taught me how to do this. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Making time for what matters and not apologizing
for it. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not waiting anymore, not waiting
for lightning to strike and I’ll pull the car over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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We got snow at the little blue house for the first time
since we’ve owned it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Each season has brought new joys and new challenges. This winter </span>I’ve had a lot of
sick days and a lot of time squeezing in work into cracks of time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But also time at home to cook, read, and journal.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I got a babysitter today and sat at a coffee shop to write this
for you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For a reader.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because I’m a writer and I will write for
you. <o:p></o:p></div>
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What else?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will
cook.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I’ll share it with you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Here’s another funny thing I’ve noticed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Something happens in your thirties and you
start to like brussels sprouts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(As a
kid of course nothing could be more disgusting.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or maybe in your twenties if you’re a
hipster.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Regardless as an adult all of a
sudden they are a cult favorite.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In service
of this truth I spent time researching commonalities in brussels sprout recipes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I combined all of the best elements (hello bacon!)
and produced my own ultimate method for preparing them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Roasting with garlic, lemon zest, and a maple
bacon vinaigrette.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do you feel me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’re so delicious even a kid might eat
them (maybe). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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In these last few weeks of winter, I hope you enjoy one more
brussels sprouts recipe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Embrace adulthood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Be yourself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Eat bacon and brussels sprouts. The recipe follows.</div>
<a name='more'></a><o:p></o:p><br />
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<i>Better Brussels Sprouts </i><o:p></o:p></div>
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2 lbs brussels sprouts<o:p></o:p></div>
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Vegetable oil of choice for roasting<o:p></o:p></div>
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Zest of one lemon<o:p></o:p></div>
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3 whole garlic cloves<o:p></o:p></div>
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5 strips bacon<o:p></o:p></div>
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1T sherry vinegar (balsamic or red wine vinegar will work too) <o:p></o:p></div>
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2 teaspoons maple syrup (or more to taste)<o:p></o:p></div>
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Salt and pepper<o:p></o:p></div>
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Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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First, roast the veggies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Trim
the tough base of the brussels sprouts and cut them in half.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Peel the garlic cloves. Toss the brussels and
garlic cloves with your preferred vegetable oil for roasting, such as avocado
oil, olive oil, or coconut oil. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Spread
onto a rimmed baking sheet and top with lemon zest and a sprinkle of salt and
pepper. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Roast for 20-30 minutes, until
brussels are caramelized brown on the bottom and soft. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Very brown is OK!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They will taste better this way. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Next, cook the bacon. While the brussels are roasting, preheat a
skillet on medium heat. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pull 5 strips of
bacon out of a pack in one hunk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Use kitchen
scissors to cut the strips of bacon into small chunks straight into the hot pan,
then break them apart with a wooden spoon while they cook.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They will crisp up into small crumbles much
quicker and easier than having to cook the strips whole. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We will save the grease!<o:p></o:p></div>
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When the bacon pieces are nice and crispy, turn off the heat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Remove the bacon with a slotted spoon so they
don’t burn in the hot grease.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Place on a
plate and set aside for now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You will
have anywhere from 1/3 to ½ cup of bacon grease in the pan. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No judgment if you want to use it all, but
ideally you’ll have about ¼ cup to balance your vinaigrette. Very carefully,
use a wad of paper towels to soak up some of this grease and toss in the
trashcan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You want to leave about 1/4 cup
of the grease in the pan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Now let’s make a vinaigrette.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When
the brussels have finished roasting, remove from the oven and use a spatula to
transfer straight to the pan of bacon grease.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Add vinegar, salt and pepper, and a drizzle of maple syrup.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Toss together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Top with the bacon crumbles and serve warm.</div>
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<br />ggfbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17207676832135391479noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555002422118571072.post-81442004177196425102020-02-21T14:40:00.000-05:002020-04-23T15:26:50.296-04:00snow day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i9.ytimg.com/vi/5y6LRfXSsYE/default.jpg?sqp=CIzXh_UF&rs=AOn4CLALqw3czmt2_-ZDTb76qAXvAGOpCA" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/5y6LRfXSsYE?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
<br />ggfbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17207676832135391479noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555002422118571072.post-5156101624131084962020-02-03T10:49:00.000-05:002020-02-03T10:49:47.915-05:00bathroom updatesI have more excitement to share from our Christmas vacation workdays, plus some pretty winter sky.<br />
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I finally ordered the beautiful Adeline hooks from Restoration Hardware for our master bath, which the boys hung for me while I was out one evening, and the room looks complete and beautiful (and more practical with our towels within reach). </div>
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Sadly I know these videos still won't play on this blog platform, but I promise to fix it someday! You can see they are "helping" Daddy with their "tools." </div>
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In the other bathroom, which is functionally a double-sink-bath-shower-closet-laundry room combo, we undertook to paint everywhere. A fresh coat of blue in SW Rain over the baby blue and purple randomness, plus fresh white trim paint everywhere. It was a huge job with so many angles and so much cutting in, but it makes a huge difference in person. Of coures it's still blue but the room feels cleaner and updated for about $150 in supplies... and way more in manhours from Kevin and me. But the weather was nice so we had windows open and listened to music and talked about the year ahead. Like the other crazy projects we've done together over the years, we'll actually remember it fondly. </div>
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I know you love a before-and-after, so here are a few 1-1 comparisons and some bonus pictures of the new color:</div>
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ggfbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17207676832135391479noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555002422118571072.post-84932579648367379572020-02-03T10:37:00.001-05:002020-02-03T10:37:47.433-05:00getting rid of it I've been getting rid of things for a few years now. Maybe you've tried this not-so-novel decluttering phenomenon?<br />
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In late 2017, I went on a big KonMari kick after I read "The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up." It was before the Netflix special and well before I knew we would move to a 200-year-old farmhouse with no garage. But the idea of minimalism appealed to me. I hate clutter. It's distracting, burdensome, and overwhelming to me. Yet we've been trained, as I was for most of my adult life, to feel like to point of growing up is to amass stuff. Other than occasionally donating clothes, the idea of getting rid of things had <i>never crossed my mind.</i> I had spent so much time getting the house, getting the job, buying the things, that I assumed that they were valuable. Marie Kondo challenged me to inspect the value of each and every item, by category, so I truly loved and used all the things I owned.<br />
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I was also in a stage of life with two kids under three, a full-time job, and a senior dog. One of the biggest attractions of minimalism then was the idea that I would have fewer things to do, clean, manage, and put away. One idea that resonated with me most is that piles of clutter in our home are essentially to-do lists everywhere. Literally the last thing I needed.<br />
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Suddenly this changed the filter through which I viewed everything in my home. So the cookbooks I had accumulated? Taunting me because I have no time to peruse them or to make elaborate recipes anymore. The craft supplies? Nope, not painting with acrylics anytime soon. The fancy dresses from my old job that no longer fit my postpartum body? Well, I could write a book on the emotions tangled up in that one. Even the small bookcase by my bed full of books I wanted to read someday: I was falling asleep looking at a to-do list.<br />
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It was time to let go of things that didn't work in my season of life. I kept only the things I truly loved and could use. My first purge was about 8 huge garbage bags full of stuff in my car. Then a few more. Once my kids were bigger, most of their baby stuff went. Then when we decide to move it got extra serious. Furniture, seasonal stuff, more clothes, and tons of miscellaneous objects went out the door. Once we arrived at our house even more got donated when it wouldn't fit or I knew I wouldn't need it in our new lifestyle.<br />
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All told, I let go of at least a third of what we owned. And I can count on one the hand the items that I've actually missed or had to purchase again. (Hello, oil-filled space heater for our drafty bedroom!)<br />
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Since that first KonMari exercise I've read dozens of books and blog posts about minimalism and the many benefits of owning less. Joshua Becker, Zoe Kim, Courtney Carver, Denaye Barahona, and Miranda Anderson are all great resources. It's been hard at times to reprogram my brain from buying things-- especially clothes, which I gave up buying during 2019 to help fund and manage our renovation. But this house became a very present tangible reminder of what I was choosing instead. Instead of heels, I'm choosing mud boots and walking with the kids. Instead of ceramic baking dishes and made-from-scratch recipes, I'm choosing Costco mac and cheese baking in foil while we play outside. Instead of a new car, we chose a tractor! Instead of a play kitchen, we chose a mud kitchen. Instead of a playset, we chose a big grassy field. Every day there are a ton of choices and none has a right or wrong answer. Sometimes what I choose really surprises me. It's just what works best for us right now.<br />
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In fact, I'm remembering those first 6 weeks in our new house when we just had a few rooms to live in. Most of our possessions were packed in the storage unit in the carport because the house was still under renovation. The boys' room was set up, and so was the kitchen, but Kevin and I were living out of a couple of small bins of clothes and personal items only. Getting ready in the morning was a cinch. I had a few tops and bottoms to choose from when I got dressed. A travel bag of toiletries. We had a small TV with Amazon Prime, and each a book, a journal, and a work laptop. It was actually kind of great.<br />
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One of my mantras for the move into our house was "A big messy adventure with nothing we don't need." It was important to me to embrace this new chapter without the burden of extra stuff. It's already an enormous task, but having excess would just put me over the edge. I have been thrilled to find that we have empty space on our shelves, closet space, and almost our entire attic. Room for us to breathe, to figure things out, and to grow here. (Although I am quite sure I never want to fill it up.) It feels more manageable and maneueverable to operate in this space without as many possessions. So I've continued the routine. Once a month or so, I fill up a bag with neglected toys, unused kitchen objects, or clothes that no longer suit my lifestyle. We drop it at Goodwill on the way to school. I've sold a few larger items on my office bulletin board. It feels good to pass on things that don't suit the season. I no longer feel any guilt about this, just total acceptance of moving forward to a new way of being.<br />
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Regarding the bookshelf, I saved only a handful of favorite books I've read and some parenting books that I want (NEED) to reference from time to time. I donated the rest. And after years of wasting money on Amazon to accumulate books I didn't have time to read, I finally became a regular patron at the North Regional library branch about 10 mins away. I reserve my books online since they are sometimes transferred from other branches and pick them up. I know you know this, but guys, it's free. I get every single book I want to read for free. If I never read it, no big deal, I take it back. But I actually read more often now. I renew online. I pick up tons of books for my kids very few weeks on every imaginable subject. (Only one casualty left in the rain overnight.) If they don't have it, I can request it, ask to borrow from a friend, or--last resort--order from Amazon. I don't know why this feels like such a shift for me except to say that I was programmed to buy, to own, to accumulate. And it feels amazing not to. I fall asleep with one book on my nightstand that I am actually enjoying reading or I return it to the library. Simple.<br />
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So here we are, with less stuff and a lot more space in so many ways. A home improvement to-do list that couldn't be finished in a lifetime. I'm OK with that because I chose it. Because I know each of those jobs, the things I still own, and this place bring me joy in this season. And when that changes maybe I'll get rid of them, too.<br />
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<br />ggfbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17207676832135391479noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555002422118571072.post-90772294536689872732020-01-02T14:46:00.000-05:002020-01-02T14:46:08.772-05:00sweat equityHappy new year! We spent the last four or five days of vacation making serious improvements to the house. It's been a spurt of warm winter days so we we are able to open windows to paint, get outside to dig, and tractor a little. We also hired a Durham fireman and his buddy to build us some new shed doors for the tractor shed. <br />
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I know you love a before and after:<br />
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They did an incredible job and we are so pleased. In a couple of months, I'll be able to paint them and it will look so much better from the road. ("Curb appeal" doesn't seem apropos without a curb, but something like that.)<br />
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When my dad was here visiting over Christmas, he took initiative to rebuild the hearth around the outside fireplace. It looks much more intentional and beautiful for evening fires now. We love it!<br />
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I've also transplanted 6 volunteer trees from natural area into some deliberate locations near the fenceline by the road and also around the yard. I'm so excited to see if the magnolias, white pines, and catalpa will take root. This morning I saw 5 bluebirds fighting over who could sit on the biggest baby magnolia, so that seems like a good sign. We also started an epic battle with a hundred-year-old honeysuckle, which stands way over my head and is the most insanely tangled gigantic beast. We've chopped down about 2/3 of it with many more snarls to go.<br />
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Meanwhile we hired professional painters to repair and repaint trim all around the exterior of the house, which was definitely overdue. They haven't quite finished but it looks much better and better-loved already.<br />
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Soon I'll share some before-and-after pictures of the boys' bathroom, which we repainted a fresh coat of blue-gray, and I'll be touching up the trim with white paint and scrubbing up the tile next.<br />
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Here's to another year of adventure, imagination, and serious elbow grease.<br />
<br />ggfbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17207676832135391479noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555002422118571072.post-59497103471505745562019-12-18T08:22:00.002-05:002019-12-18T08:22:45.679-05:00december sunday <br />
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I’ve had a lot of people say to me recently, “I don’t know
how you did it.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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Usually I say, “I don’t know either.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With two kids under five, two full-time jobs,
a giant renovation, selling our old house, a long commute, and learning to take
care of this land, it’s objectively crazy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
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But I think I know the answer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When you want something bad enough, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you just do it. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
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Last weekend we frolicked around with friends in the backyard. It was a reasonably warm December Sunday and Kevin smoked a brisket on the deck. I forgot to tell you—we pried off a planter box from the deck to make more space for our grill and it really opened things up! We set up a patio heater from Costco to help extend our living space. Gamechanger. So with friends over we marched around in the woods and played. We built a fire in the outdoor fireplace. We watched football and read books. We fed the kids brisket and mac and cheese at the table while parents stood around and watched and refilled cups (as we do). Paper plates and wine cans and excellent company. My favorite.</div>
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When we lived in our old house, we wanted to renovate the
master bathroom but never did. It seemed
impossible to scrap together $15k or so and carve out 6 weeks for a super basic
upgrade. Even though we had 2 other
bathrooms in the house. And somehow,
when faced with a completely unpredictable project that cost 5x as much and
required us to give up our suburban comforts, we charged right on ahead. Because we <i>really</i> wanted it. We finally
tapped into something that so motivating we found a way. That’s powerful. And I don’t mean to imply that we charged into
it blindly or stupidly—as you know, we had every inspection done so we’d be
eyes wide open. We carefully calculated
the costs of the renovation, scaled back, negotiated, and chose finishes so
that we could pay for it from the expected proceeds of our old house. We didn’t
go into massive debt and I sure hope we didn’t make a bad financial decision. But we knew what was important (to us) and we found a
way.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzbNV80cD88D3rX51E_3Ik9yzmtFYaRCcvto49bbXjoYedT9iWg8iNpJk7CPyWyG-TkwadHdgV7AX-eUEbikSTWAWKVeGRLNx8WjrIbYCWUJnqBER5qCE-73qZHnVTAmWu04hbjFYZhEfW/s1600/IMG_7861.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzbNV80cD88D3rX51E_3Ik9yzmtFYaRCcvto49bbXjoYedT9iWg8iNpJk7CPyWyG-TkwadHdgV7AX-eUEbikSTWAWKVeGRLNx8WjrIbYCWUJnqBER5qCE-73qZHnVTAmWu04hbjFYZhEfW/s640/IMG_7861.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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I remember waking up sick to my stomach wondering if we were
making a mistake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But then I imagined
walking away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I imagined how sad I would feel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I pictured us right
away looking for the same thing in another spot. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We would never stop dreaming about it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Put a different way, as I heard recently on a
podcast, the pain of change was less than the pain of staying the same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The train was moving full-steam ahead. <o:p></o:p></div>
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It helps that I am an extremely future-minded person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I rarely look back and worry about the
past.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I pre-worry and pre-emote a whole
lot about the future.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(If you have a
similar mindset, you know what I’m talking about; if not, just don’t worry
about it and keep reading!)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now that
we’ve “done it,” I can shrug it off like it was meant to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it was painful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And some days it still is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But we are pleased to be living it, we are
proud of ourselves, and we have a new sense of possibilities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because when you really want something, you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">can </i>do it, and you will!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /><br />ggfbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17207676832135391479noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555002422118571072.post-76852639495497843832019-12-16T15:26:00.000-05:002019-12-16T15:26:00.445-05:00deck the halls It's our first Christmas in the Little Blue House! We are decking the halls, awkwardly and on a budget. I'm happy to introduce you to Huxon, our scraggly Christmas tree, selected mid-tantrum and named with affection by our boys.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLv3M0Re7wd6dOHQHIG9tp_idFbip3S8NL9UvhySTDMcBdhVY1lTtMAQPmTGzvS_nZYTelik_SosEEI0qVHH_AzRteEOdZQ7A9IJqtKKpk-DF9rieCFuqpwQ-1GLC85cYH_W_GQ5fnUj2w/s1600/IMG_7839.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLv3M0Re7wd6dOHQHIG9tp_idFbip3S8NL9UvhySTDMcBdhVY1lTtMAQPmTGzvS_nZYTelik_SosEEI0qVHH_AzRteEOdZQ7A9IJqtKKpk-DF9rieCFuqpwQ-1GLC85cYH_W_GQ5fnUj2w/s640/IMG_7839.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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Of all the boxes that survived the move and the decluttering purge earlier this year, our box of ornaments somehow didn't make it. So we grabbed a few fun farm-themed decorations at Target, some new stockings, and of course the pink pig that DID make it to Bahama and now lives on our deck.</div>
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The question of course, through which chimney will Santa arrive? The subject of much debate in our house, especially since I feel completely torn between lying to my kids and embracing the holiday spirit. I've been dancing around the issue, but Kevin is ready to go all-in on Santa this year. Regardless, it will be a very simple and cozy week together (with fingers crossed for mild weather). </div>
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Did you catch a glimpse of the new rug in the living room? I super love it. I bought a <a href="https://www.urbanoutfitters.com/shop/hannah-printed-rug?category=SEARCHRESULTS&color=095" target="_blank">smaller version</a> from Urban Outfitters for the attic, in an attempt to make the space somewhat useable as an office, and I found it would work well in the living room. I located a <a href="https://www.overstock.com/Home-Garden/Traditional-Distressed-Rust-Blue-Medallion-Printed-Area-Rug-86-x-116/20662958/product.html?$3p=e_ab&$original_url=https://www.overstock.com/20662958/product.html?elementId=HERO&pos=0&tid=0&utm_source=Braze&ehid=B6C9DC66D460EF01E040010A239C3C8C&token=290909-2909093381868020191202101224-20191202-1-32f9e0&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=290909&cid=290909&sentTime=1575306385160&send_id=ae02660f-03d3-470a-99c4-5e29217cfc50&ahid=f5342b9f1f526619bb7ac85e5122d74d&_branch_match_id=735217804612967156&ahid=f5342b9f1f526619bb7ac85e5122d74d&cid=290909&ehid=B6C9DC66D460EF01E040010A239C3C8C&elementId=HERO&pos=0&send_id=ae02660f-03d3-470a-99c4-5e29217cfc50&sentTime=1575306385160&tid=0&token=290909-2909093381868020191202101224-20191202-1-32f9e0&utm_campaign=290909&utm_medium=email&utm_source=Braze" target="_blank">huge version on Overstock</a> for $300. It's faded for a fake vintage look, which works just fine for us, and the colors are perfect for bringing together green on the walls, blue from the house, wood tones, brick from the fireplace, and terracotta from the kitchen nearby. It's soft and lies flat and I'm so pleased with it! </div>
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We also made a couple of updates in the boys' room. A broken art frame forced me to finally dig through the other framed art options we brought over from the white house, and they look really cute. The bunny strategically covers the old rotary phone jack-- less charming after a few months of looking at it. </div>
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There are now house plants popping up in every single room, too, since I'm completely obsessed with low-maintenance mail-order plants from The Sill. I don't really buy that they clean the air, but they DO make me happy and make each space feel a little more naturally and intentionally designed.</div>
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Lastly, we can't forget the spectacular winter sunsets we've enjoyed fireside already this year. Full moons and constellations are much easier to see just a few steps off our deck. Even after a busy day I can soak in a few moments of humility out there. Tis the season.</div>
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ggfbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17207676832135391479noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555002422118571072.post-44938088668238698782019-12-16T15:03:00.000-05:002019-12-16T15:03:02.644-05:00seen and knownUntil recently, I never liked being alone.<br />
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I thought being an extrovert was the jist of my story and that was the end of it, the answer to a binary multiple-choice question about who I was and how I would live my life. </div>
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(Yet, I felt restored when I practiced yoga on a mat. Read a book by myself. Journaled under a tree. Listened to music in the car while driving on a trip.) </div>
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Part of the reason I would seek out company is because growing up an only child with single parents meant the house was pretty quiet. My friends were absolutely energizing and life-giving community as I grew into adulthood. I built a family that helped me find myself. I dreamed of having a loud home full of kids eating, laughing, playing, being happy. </div>
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(Yet, I knew I needed quiet time to plan and restore for the unbridled chaos of a happy family.)</div>
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When I had babies back to back, there was less time to myself. Basically zero at home. Work felt like a sanctuary because I could focus my thoughts and finish a sentence. I started canceling networking lunches and other social activities and using the time to exercise, read a book, or just eat lunch alone. I had started to crave alone time-- especially in the quiet. </div>
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(Turns out there were some clues along the way. I just never wanted for the space until babies.)</div>
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After becoming a mom of two, occasionally due to a scheduling hiccup I'd end up with 30 mins somewhere by myself... waiting for the kids, a friend, a client. I'd find a spot outside and sit with my journal or a cup of coffee. I once spent an hour at a bar with outdoor seating before a parent-teacher meeting. A beer by myself would have freaked me out in the past. But to my mid-thirties-mom self, it was glorious. </div>
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(And now I can soak it up in small doses.)</div>
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This year, we moved to the middle of nowhere about 45 mins away from all my friends. Away from access to even fake companionship that lives at Target, the mall, and immediate access to ordinary retail activity. Nearby we have goats, roosters, and an occasional possum. We have neighbors but everyone minds their own business for the most part. We have 16 acres of solitude sprawling out to the river behind us. </div>
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(It sounds glorious.)</div>
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I loved the image of this, but I wondered how I would feel. I wondered if I would get lonely. Like antsy, itchy, I need more people around, insecure on-campus-over-winter-break kind of lonely. </div>
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The answer? No. I love it. And some days, when I have a day off or my car breaks down, I'm standing the field by myself under the big sky and I feel as connected as I ever have. I go for walks in the woods to see what I can find. I find tracks for deer, toothmarks from beavers, hidden wildflowers, and artifacts from past dwellers. I feel connected to them in this space we share. </div>
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(At our old house over 11 years, only once we went out the fence in the woods behind our house. And it was after we had decided to move and thought we should do it once.)</div>
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Why am I reflecting on all of this today?</div>
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Last month, I went on an exploration walk in the woods by myself. And I found the burial site for the enslaved laborers who lived and worked on this property more than a century ago. </div>
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We knew it was back there, somewhere, unmarked and hard to identify. The sellers told us it was "straight back from the house" and to look for depressions in the ground and fieldstone markers. Everytime I saw a large stone in the woods, I thought maybe we had stumbled upon it, but it was never conclusive. Until this walk. </div>
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I ventured into an area where we hadn't spent much time, between two better-traveled paths. I saw a stone sticking straight up, exactly like a headstone. I thought, no way it's that obvious and I've missed it! Could it be? I tested the stone, and it didn't budge. I looked to my left, and there was another, and another, and another, all in a row. I knew.</div>
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I walked carefully through the woods inspecting every stone and the land around it. Alone, I took care to study to each marker and the size of the depression that lay before it. I noticed the orientation of the stones to the sun, to the river, relative to the house. They are almost impossible to photograph recognizably but I tried to memorize where I was among the other trees that all look similar and disorienting. </div>
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And I counted. First 5 or 6, then another 10. I knew from Internet research that it was canvassed by locals in the 80s and there could be as many as 17. I found 16. I can only imagine there would be more that are now unnoticeable so many years and storms later. Some of the stones appear to be very, very old. Worn and moss-covered in places. Others are larger and perhaps newer. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrZQXCCr2yMKRc-Jw8FOgHX7Whf78iDFBV8oAPba0SdpAlLNqFWOog8OdNUSbmAmZ_xSIqEPvnaLPHOlrWKZv3hmEFpWo0ZHktrB4v6CauF-VVFoRukxiCUfrdQIM4jCdlFCmF_2q5BQOU/s1600/IMG_7734.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrZQXCCr2yMKRc-Jw8FOgHX7Whf78iDFBV8oAPba0SdpAlLNqFWOog8OdNUSbmAmZ_xSIqEPvnaLPHOlrWKZv3hmEFpWo0ZHktrB4v6CauF-VVFoRukxiCUfrdQIM4jCdlFCmF_2q5BQOU/s640/IMG_7734.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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To my surprise, one bears a name. </div>
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I felt honored to see it and to recognize it. Wade Cannady.</div>
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Etched into the stone by hand, in all caps, to be known and remembered. </div>
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Wade Cannady died around 1915, once enslaved by the Cannady family and then staying with them after the Civil War. His name appears as a farm laborer on the family census for decades even after Dr. Cannady died, alongside one or two female names that weren't consistent. But Wade's name is recorded with the family for another 30 years. He may have lived on our property or across the river in another cabin quarters. But I know now that he is buried here, alongside the many other laborers who likely built our house and worked this land for their entire lives. </div>
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I imagine Wade might have had a choice where to be buried, with 40 years having passed after emancipation and a nearby community church founded by freed slaves. I assume that the church or the family might have provided a spot for him. Maybe not. But maybe Wade chose to be buried here with them, many whom he probably never knew. Did he know their names? Time is one dimension and maybe their shared space and shared experience, lined up together, not alone but bound together. Or maybe Wade didn't choose, someone else chose, but <i>someone </i>chose this time to leave his name to be known and remembered. </div>
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Everyone is afraid of being alone, of dying, of facing our past and our history. We prefer not to think about it. We go to crazy lengths to avoid these immutable truths. But we are all connected, we are all mortal, and we are all human. </div>
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It's possible that some people would find it unsettling, spooky, intimidating to have the responsiblity of this graveyard on their property. It's probably all of those things. It's troubling that it's undocumented and undisclosed, as compared to a recorded cemetary for the landowners next door. But I'm so glad the sellers told us and that we didn't let it disappear. I'm so glad that I could make time to go for a walk, by myself, in the woods, and be available to find it. I'm so glad that we can find a way to honor it and remember it, even as unknown to use the individuals are. </div>
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To me, having this reminder of history in our yard is important. As white Americans in the South, all of our families and the institutions that have made us prosper are built on this same paradigm. Built by these workers, buried somewhere, and that is our historical and systemic privilege. We happen to know the spot for these few. For Wade. </div>
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I sat with him. I told him that he is seen and I know his name. I don't know much else, but I believe he is home and sharing this space with us and I honor that. </div>
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We have the same responsibility as if we lived anywhere else, to know and understand and repair the distance from that experience to our own. Finding these stones is an opportunity-- a different kind of privilege-- to repair that distance in our minds and hearts in the way we interact with this place. And I am grateful.</div>
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ggfbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17207676832135391479noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555002422118571072.post-7528466424072874382019-10-29T10:07:00.002-04:002019-10-29T10:07:35.823-04:00first firesA new season at the little blue house! Fall is looking pretty good on us. <div>
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Of course, when we first visited our house almost a year ago, we were totally enchanted by the outdoor fireplace. It's beautiful, noble, mysterious, and proud. We pictured outdoor dining and strung lights and a fire gathering us together. This past week, with a little encouragement from dear friends, we took big leaps forward toward that vision. </div>
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Two Saturdays ago one of our friends scrambled up the mound of rocks to check and make sure the chimney was open. Check. Then we worked together to rearrange some of the field stones into a more substantial hearth with balanced support around the fireplace. We pulled twigs and logs and old boards from the "burn" pile down the hill. We had a stash of "enviro logs" to get things going if we needed the help. </div>
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That Saturday night, our first fire outside came together. It worked out just fine. Warm, crackling, and totally manageable (with a hose nearby just in case). We even got the hammock up so we could relax and enjoy the view. </div>
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The next weekend, my best friend came to visit from Charleston with her sweet family. The leaves were starting to turn but rain was expected. All of us were overjoyed to have the weather clear up and have a fire two nights in a row. It was a dream. My friend's husband disappeared in the woods to clear a path for us to the river and camp. Her kids played happily with ours in the fields and jumping in the hammock. We snacked outside on the deck and by the fire. We all still went to bed early. Having them with us for that celebration made the whole adventure feel more worthwhile, more attainable, and more joyful. </div>
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Thank you, dear friends, for allowing us to be your destination and cheering us on week after week. You lend us your enthusiasm, you contribute your ideas and your strength, you validate our efforts, and you share our joy. We are so grateful because you make this dream possible for us. </div>
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ggfbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17207676832135391479noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555002422118571072.post-42000503132698188312019-10-15T12:20:00.002-04:002019-10-15T12:20:21.174-04:00tractors and rainbows You're not really tractorin until you get stuck. Isn't that how the saying goes?<br />
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We did it. We bought a John Deere 3032E and a rotary cutter attachment. The last few months have been crazy (to say the least) in our lives, but we stayed the course and Kevin got out there to bush hog the fields in September. It looks amazing. He even cleared the gulley with the weedwhacker before fall. <br />
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Sure, he got stuck on the first weekend when he ventured a little too low toward the springs by the river. But how else will you know the limits? Kevin and his dad removed the attachments, hooked up to the Honda Pilot, and quickly pulled out of the mud. Our boys were happy to help "clean" the mud off the tractor with spray bottles and scrub brushes afterwards.<br />
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We also dug up the satellite dish outside our master bedroom window-- literally four feet of concrete. I couldn't believe it. It was the hardest outside job we've ever done. Here's the after, looking out from our master bedroom, and I'll add more pictures from Kevin's phone (since I was drenched in sweat and still filling in dirt until it was totally done).<br />
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Since then, our fall garden has grown and gotten a facelift with new fencing and two doors that open up wide enough for the tractor bucket. That was a big project this past weekend with fall approaching. The deers have been walking up closer to the house and eating all of our lettuce, chard, and beet greens. Hopefully this will protect the veggies a little, especially my favorite, the sugar snap peas!<br />
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Inside, we finally hung curtains in the boys' room (instead of garbage bags!) and they can enjoy a lot more light during waking hours.<br />
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I will tell you, we've felt a little stuck in life lately, too. There have been a lot of challenges between caring for this place, attending to our full-time jobs, raising small children, and keeping ourselves well, too. The last few weeks we kept our older son out of school and made time for a lot of adventures with him. Both boys started at a new school this morning. Transitions are hard but I look forward to a lot more fun together in the fall. We snuck in a pumpkin patch trip in Hillsborough late yesterday afternoon.<br />
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As a family we've spent lots of time outside in the backyard and working on our property. We've driven around in the pickup truck, explored the river and the "cove" toward camp, even ventured onto our neighbors' property to tour the three-story house they are building. It's given us new eyes and ideas for what we can do in our space. A double rainbow across the street helps the cause. Little turtles help, too. We are admittedly tired, but not too tired to dream. The adventure continues. <br />
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<br />ggfbloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17207676832135391479noreply@blogger.com0