Pardon the dust...

I'm working on some technical updates and I am convinced it is NOT my gift.

Give me home renovations any day!

Come back, yes?

Sometimes things get worse before they get better.

On Just Getting Started

Each year I wrongly imagine that I'm going to be "ready".

All the supplies will be sorted, purchased if necessary, labeled, and systematically placed in obvious (to me) order.

I'll have a library list captured on an excel spreadsheet and will know which books I'll need to get through inter library loan and which is available at my local branch.

Shelves will be orderly, activities planned, fun days on the docket, and when I stretch this dream a little farther, even my laundry is all caught up!

Then I wake up.

In spite of steady work in preparation for our home educating year I'm not "all done".  In fact, I may be even more behind than I would consider typical because we are rebuilding a room in this restoration farmhouse of ours to better serve our purposes.  And, you can imagine can't you, what that means to a family of our size spending our days on a main floor with perhaps 800 square feet.  We're cozy and chaos from reworking a room spills.

Farm work doesn't make a space for school to start.  School starts as companion to animals, land, buildings, and chores.  You wonder, do they meld?  Yes.  Grateful.

Order, preparedness, planning, making ready are all good practices.  And, in spite of my real life friends identifying me through my self deprecating jokes about the chaos of our life and how it's easier to just go with the flow than hold back the tide of our creative, energetic, ADHD driven life, I pull more than my weight in these administrative departments.

And, since I can't command lunar cycles, I just dive right in.  The room will get renovated.  The shelves probably won't get dusted.  Books, atlases, writing implements, instructional CD's, will froth, crest, and spill over on the shore of dining room table, desks, and floors.  An excel spread sheet won't get created.  Library cards will easily max out their circulation limit.  Learning won't be neglected and we will be blessed for dedicating ourselves to each day just doing what we must.

Today we began again.  Math, handwriting, history, and more returned to set the warp and woof of our day. And because we were willing to just get started we received the grace of a new beginning.

Chronicling gifts continues:
Weekend Farmer Husband is at an interview while I write.  Friends, family, and many saints praying for wisdom and provision for our family.

First born son bravely, winsomely, and lovingly exhorting us with the Word.

How can it be - second born son matriculating at community college tomorrow.  He's ready.

The joy of preschool again, and for a final time.  

Books, books, books - rejoicing in reading.

Good news from my dad last time we spoke on the phone - he went sailing!

Thank you Lord - a light rain this morning.  Pastures kept green by your hand alone.

Internet making connection with friends and family easy.

A restful Labor Day.

Blessed by community.

Confident hands of a chiropractor.

What? We ate the last of our ground beef from last year's cow - we have been given abundant food.

A personal message from another blogger I deeply admire that encourages and affirms.

Enduring health and safety - as we have no medical insurance I am being challenged to reject security as an idol and to faithfully practice my understanding of God's goodness in preserving our days and blessing us physically.

Flaky biscuits and amber honey for afternoon snack.

Hens laying more and more eggs - creeping up to peak production for a few months before daylight shortens.

Refreshing local farmer's markets.

A busy week ahead of fellowship and hospitality.  

And, above all, Christ - my High King and Faithful Savior.  All for Him...

Prose, Pictures, and the Practical

High white clouds drift lazily in the September blue sky.  Although quite warm outside, a small breeze makes for a pleasant place in the shade.  It is Labor Day and we're resting today.

Most of the time we work really hard.  And, Weekend Farmer Husband and I enjoy it. Most of our children do too, at least to a point.  But today, on purpose, we started and stayed slow, and it feels richly satisfying.

It's not that we didn't "do" anything though.  Animals have been properly cared for and appreciated.  Water has been administered to thirsty plants.  Meals are planned, prepared, cleaned up after.  A friend and some of his family came, we forged a new threshold of relationship as we processed a couple of his noisy rooster companions, now meant for his family table instead of their created role as daylight criers.

This is our normal.  A high labor high yield lifestyle.  And, we're only slowly beginning to understand that this may not be normative.

Recently, a good friend suggested that the content here should reflect the practical of what we've learned, how we "do".  After all, we were pretty run of the mill suburbanites a short two years ago.  Disconnected from food production, from land, from the span of seasons and how it impacts what we eat and how we live, reliant on grids, city water treatment plants, municipal salt and snow trucks, among an unnamed myriad of other services and conveniences, frankly, it was a good and happy life.  But, we had no idea of what it really meant when we decided to move out of town.

At first, we simply desired more space and the liberty afforded by downsizing our home.  For the first time in 17 years of parenting we committed me full time to supporting Weekend Farmer Husband, raising our children, giving my consistent attention to home educating and managing our home.

The curve was long and thankfully very gentle.  And somewhere along the way, influenced by books, movies, and convinced by the Holy Spirit, we found ourselves committed not only to "living out of town", but to land stewardship, animal husbandry, food production, health, the family table, and living with deeply rooted gratitude within our means and with eyes wide open for opportunity.

We didn't plan.  We just started.  And that's how we continue - we are perhaps the Clampetts of "Just Do It".  Sorry Nike.  I suspect your marketing team had something else in mind.

Our experience has been that most of what we purpose to do, wish we could do, or might like to do is achievable if we're willing to labor for it.  And we are.

Some of you have been very complimentary about the yield you can see from our efforts.  And, oh how your words are like honey.  Without outside encouragement our efforts always flag.  So, please, keep it comin'! But, sometimes you make the mistake of assuming that we're special, or different, or somehow more equipped than you are. And that from the outside looking in, the idyllic pictures portray a kind of life that you could never have.

Not true.

I won't diminish the idea that perhaps we've been given an uncommon gift in this new life we're forging.

Conversely, I hope you won't limit hope that you too could and maybe will someday do what we do, learn what we've learned, and lay hold of this high labor high yield lifestyle that allows for mellow September afternoons filled with iced tea on the front porch, chickens clucking in the barn, and night cool closing in on cows in pasture and family gathered satisfied and well.

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And since some of you have asked, here's something practical that we use with good success on the farm.  This formula is readily available on the internet - other blogs and Pinterest for sure, but I offer our farm tested, family satisfying, adapted home made Powdered Laundry Soap Recipe:

Ingredients:

Two Bars Castille Soap
( I use Dr. Bronner's Lavender or Peppermint bar soap. It's available at my local super market, or click on this to source it from Amazon))

One large box of Baking Soda
(Yup, just plain old baking soda found in the baking aisle of your local market.  I use the 64oz/4lb. size)

Lavender or Peppermint Essential Oil
(These too my local supermarket carries.  Lots of blogs I read recommend this site/company, but I've not personally purchased anything from them)

Directions:
Cut the bars of soap into small pieces.  Dicing is probably too fine...shall we try to define this as chunks?

Add about 1/4 of your chunks to your food processer fitted with mixing /chopping blade.

Add about 1/4 of the baking soda.

Pulse until combined.
(Watch out - the baking soda will "poof" out a bit and you might find yourself feeling a little sneezy with a strange salty taste in your mouth! )

While blade is spinning add 5 +/- drops of essential oil

Repeat above steps until you've combined all the baking soda and soap.

Place in a seal-able container (we use an old gallon ice cream tub) or containers and place in a place convenient to your laundry routine.

I use about 1/8th cup per load.

Some thoughts:
I'm risking a bad memory here and possible correction from you dear reader, but I think this gives me 80+ loads.
You can use less, more, or no essential oil.  The fragrance and its strength is according to your personal preference.
The oil does not leave any stains/residue on your clothing.
I have front loading HE washers and this formula has performed very well for us.
DO NOT use vinegar as a softner/rinse aid - it'll be the horror movie version of middle school science class all over your laundry area!
Depending on sales, coupons, and "buying it right" this costs me just under $10 per batch.
Our current favorite fragrance is lavender and there's just the faintest trace of lingering fragrance once the load finishes cycling.
If making this with the help of your children (and by all means, include them - then they'll know how to "do" too), please remember that essential oils are very powerful and avoid direct contact with skin.

Ok- so many words!

I'd love to hear from you - what would you like to learn more about?
If you try this, what results did you achieve?
Shall we make this a conversation? Yes? Please!

Joy comes in the Morning

The morning cool envelops me. I sip slow and gaze long as the morning lengthens.

Kittens romp.  Rooster crows.  Hope for a new day is full on me.

Children begin to appear. Some grown. Some not.  Together we drink the new beginning.

Sunflowers, like stairs, point to the sky. I am drawn upward and filled with joy.

When Monday turns to Liquid

I don't even know how it came up.

Following a restful afternoon with books, bike rides, naps, and games we gathered round the heavy wood table, bowed our heads, gave thanks to God for his abundance and began feasting.

Conversation ebbed and flowed, often the table is divided, little kids down by Weekend Farmer Husband talking about horses, play in the swimming pool, and the big kids down by me, new videos on YouTube, friends, work, and me just trying to keep up with it all.

Then the one whose middle name means "Pearl", and whose very name reminds me that my treasure is not of this earth, rather my riches lie with the King of Kings who will make all things new, asks a hard question.

"Who were the Nazis?"

And for once, the table talk stills.

Weekend Farmer Husband pauses, considers who asked the question and who's listening, and does a masterful job of creating a simile. A Nazi is like....

She nods her head.  Gets it.

Conversation lingers on the airstrip, and just as it's readying to take off, I call out for it to stop.  We need to linger here.  More needs to be told.  Although they should not yet need to carry the weight of the whole truth, it's time for them to learn to think more complex thoughts about what it means that there even are Nazis, how scarred human history is by yet another of our atrocities, and how unless we learn from history we are compelled to repeat it.

Firstborn son, with a teacher's heart and deep reservoirs of history, leads his younger sisters gently into new places of knowing, greater understanding, and satisfied curiosity without revealing the making of nightmares.

Humming again, conversation rises and falls, the family table comes to a close, and soon the youngest are being tucked in, and I'm singing what I sing each evening and telling Truth to them as our final words of the day.

Neither of the littles likes to fall asleep in the dark.  So I turn the same light on each night, and as I do so I give the benediction to their day.

"This light reminds us, girls, that Jesus is the light of the world, and NOTHING can separate us from His love."

Settled, they each reach for a book and read until slumber comes.  I return before slipping between my own sheets to usher darkness into the room.  All is well.  Peace is on us.

By the next morning I barely remember what happened not 12 hours earlier.  It's not that I can't.  It's that I don't.  I'm well into reviewing what must be done, setting up tasks, steeling myself for the day, replacing a wayward kitten back outdoors, inwardly groaning but smiling when the youngest gets up quite a bit too early. Frankly, I've failed in the discipline of taking time to remember the gospel and what it means today.  What it means for all of history.

Oh friend, how careless I am.

But, even more, how good He is.

Lunch is late today.  It affords a small opportunity for me to sneak away and check in on one of my "must read" blogs.

And I am undone.

Although I was already planning to chronicle gifts here today I am again stunned by my history.  Of a man who died in my place.  And the gift of His life for mine really is the whole of my list.

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Consider, won't you please, clicking on this and reading along with me what made thanksgiving, contrition, and joy run liquid down my cheeks in the middle of this regular Monday?  It will help make so much more of my small words above.

And as for the gifts, the many I enjoy and the ones I think to chronicle just this:

"It is enough that Jesus died, and that He died for me."

Back Door Beauties

I have a wonderful "problem" !

So many flowers are blooming in my garden that I've run out of vases and surfaces to put flowers in and on!

What fun it is to sit down for meals, walk in the back door, catch a flash of color in my peripheral vision, and be overwhelmed with color, form, and intricacy.

Sure wish you'd come visit and linger long in the shade of our old trees, watch the breeze nudge the garden causing the plants to lean this way and that, share a steamy coffee, icy water, or sweet tea - and when our visiting was all done, I'd send you home with a bouquet of your own tied with a little tag:

"Consider the lilies, how they grow:  they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. " Luke 12:27

Each petal, leaf, stem , stamen, pistil, seed - each is known to Him.  The richest, wisest, most privileged King Solomon's power, wealth, and reach doesn't even compare to the detail and knowledge God displays in each flower.  The One who knows and loves His creation is the keeper of my life!

And, as I offer you a hand picked bunch of flowers, (you will come won't you?), I would look deep into the window of your soul and tell you how He cares for you!

Truth in the Kitchen

Consider opening a new tab, copy and paste this in your browser, click to listen, and then come back here to share what has filled my kitchen today and lifted my heart in worship and assurance...?

Yes?  You did?  Ah, friend, come in and share this day, and let's both be filled with thanksgiving for God our High King, who is a matchless treasure, both in this life and in life eternal.

I blanche, I peel, I stir, I chop, I lather, rinse, repeat!  The kitchen - the whole main floor and back deck really - is a haven of early harvest time industry.

And as I work, (sometimes alone, most times with my offspring), we listen to hymns, sermons, scripture, and fill up on Truth.

I was arrested this morning by the familiar words of Be Thou My Vision.  Paring knife poised in mid air, heady fragrance of still more peaches rolling steamy up from the stove, children singing in harmony, and momma's heart soaring with worship a flood of images pours into my thoughts, my list of gratitudes grows.

• cool evening, crisp morning, a relief from the heat and a foretaste of fall.
• lightning splits the sky, lake heaves up bigger and bigger waves, fat raindrops fall, and we've watched the storm until the very last minute, dashing to the shelter of the car we delight in the adventure.
• weekend farmer husband and our second born makes a clothesline for the farm.  we love to use solar power to meet our needs :-)
• bountiful farmer's market, reconnecting with a dear friend, local harvest, artisan cheese and bread - abundance.
• practical friendship that listens to what I want, not what I must have to survive, and gives a gift to meet the want.  Thank you dear one.
• basil from the garden, tomatoes too, creamy cheese, homemade artisan bread, butter, salt, pepper - perfection this side of heaven!
• meeting more and more of our own food needs with what we can produce at Liberty Farm.  Some meals we eat 100% from the work of our hands and the yield God gives.
• amazing big venue concert with son, daughter, and friend.  Live music inspires and I marvel at the creator who gives the ability to make the sound waves dance.
• Weekend Farmer Husband remains steady in the storm of unemployment, pursuing a family business, getting helpful feedback, pressing forward.
• my father continues to share good news about recovery from leukemia and stem cell transplant. 
• cows getting roly poly big!
• 200 chicks arriving this week, more chicken shares coming available, as well as a full freezer here at home.
• oh the stars - did you see them?  what wonder glimmers in the sky.  weekend farmer husband and I took time to look to the heavens last night and for those moments at least, rest in the assurance that the One who hangs the stars in the sky purposes good for us and glory for Himself.

Be Thou my Vision, O Lord of my heart;

Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art.

Thou my best Thought, by day or by night,

Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.

Be Thou my Wisdom, and Thou my true Word;

I ever with Thee and Thou with me, Lord;

Thou my great Father, I Thy true son;

Thou in me dwelling, and I with Thee one.

Be Thou my battle Shield, Sword for the fight;

Be Thou my Dignity, Thou my Delight;

Thou my soul’s Shelter, Thou my high Tower:

Raise Thou me heavenward, O Power of my power.

Riches I heed not, nor man’s empty praise,

Thou mine Inheritance, now and always:

Thou and Thou only, first in my heart,

High King of Heaven, my Treasure Thou art.

High King of Heaven, my victory won,

May I reach Heaven’s joys, O bright Heaven’s Sun!

Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,

Still be my Vision, O Ruler of all.