keeping busy

Going to the park with Olivia:

Dinner al fresco:

Painted closets, filled with the china I’ve been waiting and waiting to use:

No rugs, mish-mash place-holding furniture, no molding, BUT. Getting there:

Tucked in the corner, ready for a new little one:

miracle of spring

Plants amaze me. The fact that it all looks so, so dead, and then suddenly bursts forth into this miraculous display of life — it baffles my mind every single spring.

Of course, we had to wait an unusually long time for that bursting this year. My daffodils? Yeah. They spent weeks as courageous new leaves, with no sign at all that they would ever actually be flowers. But this week, we’ve made progress, and this was my kitchen table today:

There are so many beautiful varieties that are popping open: golden yellows and barely creams, big and small, orange trumpets, peach trumpets, red-rimmed trumpets — all so lovely.

Then there are all of the other miracles — hastas that I thought I’d (somehow!) lost have all popped up. The forsythia volunteer that I stuck in the ground actually bloomed. And the bee balm that I’d given up hope for last summer is not only back, but is thriving. Hollyhock, columbine, bleeding heart, day lilies, forget-me-not, myrtle, gloriosa daisies, cone flowers — they all survived!

And thanks to all of the years of gardening next to my mom, who sees it all with a spiritual lens, I can’t look at that amazing return of life without faith for seemingly-dead situations rising up in my own heart. Somehow, those budding plants are more than just the promise of a lovely summer garden: they’re a tangible reminder that life is God’s business. It’s what He does. Winter — even the longest, harshest, toughest winter the North Country can muster — can’t stop Him from bringing forth life.

tree time

We have a tree. It’s lit, strung, and ornamented. Of course, it’s currently on it’s second lighting/stringing/ornamenting, thanks to the tumble it took last evening. Not much is as disheartening as a Christmas tree laying flat on your living room floor, surrounded by glass casualties. *sigh*

But it’s standing again, huge and wild and beautiful. Monday morning, this tree was growing in our backyard, part of a quartet of pines, but my daddy’s saw turned the quartet into a duo, and we got ourselves free Christmas trees.

Yesterday, there was the organized chaos of a nana, two mamas, three aunties, an uncle, and countless cousins (I don’t dare say a number; I’ll most definitely leave one out!) in our family room, beautifying the tree. Ornaments that had been given the last few years, but had never had a tree on which to hang, were unwrapped and rediscovered and put in their rightful place. Memories of honeymoons, first Christmases, road trips with the family, grade school teachers, and many more were shared. Glass, felt, porcelain, cross-stitch, all in between rows of red and white beads. Sparkling birds are clipped to the ends of wild branches — branches which invited live birds only weeks ago.

And, of course, the almost-invisible wire that Ryan used to tie the tree last night at 10:30.

This morning, I got to watch my very own little boy run from his bedroom to see our very own tree for the very first time.

Our first Christmas here, in this wonderful home, sitting right in the midst of a beautiful winter wonderland.

summertime

It’s summer. And so far, it’s been gorgeous. Warm, sunny days, the smell of fresh cut grass (okay, okay, AND fertilized fields), just enough rain, and vast amounts of green space. Boy, I sure missed the space.

Summer also means:

:: first boxes from the CSA. It feels like I had to wait forever (because I did!), but I guess that made it all the more fun to see boxes and boxes of huge, beautiful heads of lettuce. When I arrived at the pick-up site on Friday morning, bright and early, the excitement around that table was palpable. Like Christmas morning with a bunch of kids — except it was June, we were adults, and the excitement was about cabbage. I think you have to live in the frozen tundra of Upstate New York to truly appreciate the beauty of radishes and baby carrots.

:: slipping out of the house before 7 in work clothes and gardening gloves. I can get more done in those uninterrupted 30 minutes than I do the rest of the day. Unless you count refereeing light saber wars as “getting more done.” Also, I don’t know why I’m constantly berating myself for my lack of exercise, since working in my vegetable garden means running up and down a huge hill to check on why the boys are screaming, where they’ve disappeared to, how much dirt they’ve tracked through the house, etc. I’m pretty sure sprinting uphill is exercise, right?

:: watching my first attempts at gardening. And reminding myself to be stalwart, resilient, ready to do better next year. I’ve already learned several things: When you’re in the last 30 minutes of planting, and your baby is screaming his head off because he’s wanted to nurse for at least an hour (or more), better to take a break than to just scatter carrot seeds all over — and then beet seeds, basil seeds, and spinach seeds. Especially if you don’t know what these little sprouts will look like, and are then forced to wait for all sprouts to grow two inches or so — at which point, half your garden is thickly populated with grass. Did I mention that half my garden = about 175 square feet? That, folks, is a lot of grass. Next year, I foresee many more seedlings and not quite so many seeds in my future.

:: housework going out the window. No, really. I pick up, do laundry, cook, and occasionally vacuum. And every morning, I wake up telling myself that really, today needs to be cleaning day. But it’s summer! When I start to worry that I’ll never regain routine, I remind myself that autumn comes every year, and summer is only a season. In the meantime, I’m just trying to make sure that the boys have their teeth brushed before they head out to find their bikes — in their pajamas, crocs, and helmets, the ultimate summer uniform.

:: riding my new-to-me bike down the country road. Breathing deeply of clean, sweet country air. Stopping to fill my basket with cheerful little flowers. Catching the first glimpse of my very own house on my way back — and loving it.

boys.

The headline in today’s Rural News (our local paper) made my heart race:

“Gas & Steam Engine Show June 12, 13”

I grabbed the paper and excitedly got all the details. Tractors, trains, wagons, horses — and all down the road at our local museum. I was probably grinning ear to ear, when suddenly I just had to laugh at myself.

Gas & Steam Engine Show? Really? Really?? That’s what got my attention and made my heart race?

I am a mother of boys. I had no idea how much fun that would be, but it’s a blast.