Contentment

Last night a friend brought Patrick and Maggie home from their Austin college home. Backpacks, suitcases, boxes of shoes, lots of the running variety. Stuff galore, carried in through the bakery. Siblings all around. Of course the first thing we did was tour the college kids around the yard. They oohed and aahed over the baby raspberries. Delighted in the new grapevines and plum tree that is sporting new green leaves. Marveled over the fig trees, with the biggest load of figs we have had in our five seasons here in Alpine. Perhaps they like the generous feedings of chicken manure the past two years? They said hello to chickens, to baby peppers and eggplants and ignored the unmowed yard, commented on all our hard work this spring. While everyone finished getting things together, I sat at the table, exhausted from a long weekend of work, and Maggie massaged my head, played with my hair, and loved on me. Oh, to soak up that tenderness and physical affection.

Then everyone moved into the kitchen, and all my five children, mostly taller than me, and pretty much on their way to adulthood, sat around the same table. Six of us. Family. We feasted on a giant pork roast, cooked all day long while I was at work. Roasted cauliflower, crispy around the edges. Green beans from the farmer's market, sauteed with red peppers and garlic. A giant pot of mashed potatoes, cooked by Thomas.

I am not exactly sure what we talked about. Not politics. Not religion. We just laughed and felt the absolutely refreshing joy of being. I hope you know what I am talking about. The comfort of being in a place where you don't have to be any particular thing, because you are known and have been known, and can't really pretend anyway. Maggie left the table to spend time with her dear friend who happens to be home for a visit. Rose went to finish up some homework. Thomas took off to his apartment, sated by the meal and icecream. Patrick and Nora took on kitchen cleanup, and when I went to bed, I smiled to hear them chatter away as they cleaned up the dishes.

In a blink, everyone will be off and about for summer adventures. I do not wish for my kids to all stay home and sit at my table everyday! But oh, the delight I experience when they come back and we share garden, and stories, and food and love.

I can't help it.

By the way, sometimes the most amazing ideas for blog posts pop into my mind. Other times, well, I just feel tired, dried out, in need of a serious watering. So I write what I see, the most boring of things. But it is a catalogue of sort for me. A reference point. A farm girl's almanac. A reminder of the beautiful everyday stuff.

If I didn't worry about sharing intimate heart details, or get stage fright, or just plain ole, introverted scared when I think other people besides my mom might read this, I have all sorts of things to say about grief, mid-life dating, parenting as a single parent, working, over working due to security issues. I could write about learning to navigate all sorts of different, but universal situations that seem to hit most of us in some form or another. I am tempted to write about my temporary and continued journey away from church life. Or the terrific, but wobbly faith journey I am on, that is not exactly as orthodox as many of my potential readers might wish to see, but is rich and good, and definitely spiritual.

But that would be scary. Not like there are tons of you readers out there now, anyway. I know mom reads. Maggie. And by the way, it makes me so happy to share a taste of the everyday with you, Maggie, girl who gets my heart. And some of you other crazy hangers on.

I still haven't yet quite figured out the whole new identity thing, post Philip's wife and homeschool mom of a bunch of kids on a farm. I am still the same gal. Had he not died, I would still be learning to navigate this evolving era.

Just want to keep it real. And who knows? Be forewarned. One of these days I might let you know what is truly going on! HAHAHAHA! Or perhaps tell you some funny anecdotes related to my tendency to say never. Please, never say never. Perhaps a few words about last year's catastrophic fall apart, the many painful break ups that resulted from that pit period, a trial run on antidepressants that left me more depressed than ever before in my life. And how having what felt like all the props pushed out from under me, all seemingly at the same time left me in the perfect place to heal and seek help and grow in some rather amazingly beautiful ways. Personal studies on attachment theory, to help me navigate the whole new relationship scene, helped me uncover some areas where I needed to improve with my kids. And made me aware we have some pretty amazingly secure attachments, all things considered, and I give God thanks for that. A back and knee injury led me to get worried and scared and then proactive as I determined that full time hard labor might not be the best thing for me over the next ten or twenty years. So I have enrolled in the local university, to seek a masters degree in counseling. A path I began 24 years ago, and was put on hold when Thomas came along. And then Patrick, Maggie, Rose and Nora.

I am still waiting on the gentle rain to fall for me. A few drops have been sprinkled, and I see clouds in the future. Promising ones. Not scary ones. The girls and I have reinitiated read aloud at supper time. Tuck Everlasting. I have gotten back into a walk around the loop evening practice. Am cutting the caffeine intake and working on bringing balance into my world. Evening meditation, being still, soaking up sweet moments and remembering to hug the girls, long hugs, not just quick ones, have also been quite beneficial. Just as I have had to spend an inordinate amount of time watering the garden with the hose, am trying to water my soul in every way I know how.

Hope you will remember to do the same. And in the in between times, I try often to say Thank you, thank you, thank you. To the God I can't quit believing in, even though I quite often wish to.

No Such Thing As a Free Ride... or, I Love My Garden

A couple days ago I planted two kinds of sweet potatoes, some purple ones, and some Beauregard. I tucked some around the okra, thinking that the leaf growth would offer a bit of natural mulch and shade. I planted some in the front bed, where last year I had zucchini and peppers and a couple of tomato plants. I put japanese cucumbers around the bamboo structure used by pole beans last year.

Changing it up a little! White potatoes are in the other front bed.

Four, or was it five? rows of Panther Edamame, a heritage soybean variety, got tucked into the bed that produced many pounds of onions last year. My first time to try soybeans! Radishes, turnips and spinach got planted in front of the chicken yard fence, a shady zone that might be perfect for those cooler weather loving plants. I tried climbing things on that fence last year, but the shade got in the way. Gardening means experimenting for me! Figure out what works. Change and shift when something doesn't.

Let's see. I am finally getting a break from watering, although that is one of my mindfulness practices. We have had afternoon showers for a few days, and the ground is moist. Raspberry canes are taking off! One is covered in little babies! Blackberry bushes are making their way into our world. We have to have faith! Plum tree is enticing me with the hint of green buds that should manifest into leaves. Grape vines are poised to leap! Flowers are blooming all over our property, little rain drop flowers, lantana, cactus, esperanza, larkspur. I bet cenizo, aka purple sage, will be full on by this weekend.

Okra is double its size from last week. Yellow squash is covered in thumb-sized babies. May have to eat them this weekend! Butter. Salt. What more does one need? Eggplant are covered in blossoms and we have baby peppers and tomatoes. A grocery store in the backyard that demands payment of a little love and attention. I think I can afford that price.

The floors are swept, the laundry done, the spare room cleared and ready for a college kid. But the dust that covers every single surface of my house, minus kitchen and bakery, is a good indicator that I have been investing in our food future!

A record.

Damson plum tree planted. Also two champagne grapevines, no, not for champagne, but for eating out of hand! They are tiny and seedless and originated in Greece. Also a red catawba grapevine. Because, well, you know! And a Zinfandel. All situated outside my bakery window, a place with plenty of sun, and in my line of vision, so I will tend them. A pineapple guava planted, in the corner of the yard, where the rain comes off the carport.

More okra. Some potatoes. Another batch of onions. I noticed a bloom on one of the raspberry plants. Squash are forming little buds. So are the tomatoes and peppers. Am having to water because we are terribly dry. Conserving in other areas so the water can go to the plants.

Oh, here's something nifty! I let our fountain get filled with gnarly moss last fall. As the water dried up and evaporated, a lovely, mossy carpet was formed. I lifted it out in sections and used it to mulch different parts of the garden.

I hope the plants will be happy here. I welcomed them with love. We are hopeful. Oh, what nice memories of damson plum jam on the farm. Mouth watering now.

Temporary Cold Snap

We drove to Abilene the other day to watch Rose and her pal run in the regional track meet. Before we took off, I went around the yard, offering water to the new blackberries and fig tree. The desert willow on the other side of the fence had one blossom and millions of buds.

When we got back, to cold, gray, wintery weather, the willow tree grabbed me by surprise! She is decked out, delicate orchid-like blooms, waving proudly and defiantly in the weird little cold snap. As if to say, "Bring it on, North Wind! I just bought this new outfit and I'll be darned if I am going to cover it up with a gray woolen jacket."

The yard is crispy dry. The grass is dormant. But somehow around the fringes, flowers keep blooming like crazy. Lantana graces my kitchen window sill.