Tidying Hour...

It felt like a scene out of the fifties tonight, getting Aimée settled in bed, reading with a glass of wine in the last golden bits of the daylight, and then going outside to pull in the wash from the line.

One neighbor out silently putting away toys in the yard, neighbors on our other side out on the porch with their new baby, talking quietly as their dogs finished up for the night around the lawn. All of us wrapping up the loose ends of the day and listening to the cicadas sing their summer song.

Fireflies catching at the corners of our attention. At peace in this magical hour no matter what the hour before or after will hold.

Hold the Fort...

I believe in seasons. Considered thoughtfully, all of our lives can be summarized, categorized with simple words. Beginning with the season of Childhood. There might be a season of Adventure, or of focused growth as a Student. This current season I've dubbed Holding the Fort because as a wife and mother my days are wholly devoted to the care of my family while my husband works and studies for long hours. Home is at the core of my attention.

What makes this season unique is how all-encompassing it can be, with only slivers of time doled out to purely personal pursuits. It's easy to lose heart. It's easy to become isolated even when surrounded by social media and a full calendar. So I've been reflecting on some of the beautiful stories of America's past, where women experienced far more weighty isolation when carving out homes and farms from endless acres of wilderness.

These brave souls rose with the sun, cooked over temperamental fires, battled the elements in ways we can't even relate to from our carefully climate-controlled homes. They carried guns and had to use them. They woke in the night not because they were filled with anxiety over their reputation but to feed the fire and ensure their babies were safe. One of my favorite stories is of a woman whose husband went to a distant town for absolutely necessary supplies and who stayed up night after night watching from her rocking chair, rifle across her lap because she could see bright eyes peering at her through the chinks in the logs. Holding the fort until her man came home and the enemy receded into darkness.

I love trying on this strong woman's spirit for size on long evenings when I've hardly seen Andrew for days, much less had a meaningful conversation with him. When my feet ache and my head spins with a long list yet to plow through, the minutes ticking by without my head anywhere near the pillow. Something in me craves the inspiration of these heroines. From long-forgotten graves they kick me in the butt, make me roll up my sleeves and do more than just limp through the day.

Because I don't have to be content with mere survival. I can thrive.

Maternity Ward...

Our yard has become a maternity ward, with three robins born today and the discovery of two cardinal eggs not far behind them.

How had I forgotten the scrawny ugliness of newborn birds? And does the mother view them as beautiful despite their unfortunate proportions and embarrassing lack of feathers?

I think she must see them for the miracle they are. Just as we do.

Cookies...

In compiling a fresh list of things I love a new jewel has found it's way near the top: tins filled with cookies layered in waxed paper. May your own counter be graced with this wonderful sight!

Marvelous...

We have had the most marvelous times recently.

Aimée's joy in picking a Christmas tree and helping her daddy with the lights. The thrill of unwrapping and hanging ornaments with us. Music from The Nutcracker. (She spends most of the time calling "dance!" and beckoning us to join her in enthusiastic jumping and waving.)

And I have noticed how our eyes shine as we plan Christmas treats and memories we want to make with our daughter. We laugh constantly over little things she says. I didn't expect to find that the magic I loved as a child wasn't just created by a parent for a child, but in a parent for a child.

Among these little highs there was a definite low yesterday during a trip to an entirely silent used book store. Already warm from our trek down brick-paved sidewalks, the warmth of the little shop hit me like a heat wave. (You should know, this automatically puts me in a bad mood. It's why I always have to apologize more in the summer than winter: heat just brings it out in me.)

Add to this the lean orange cat which Aimée glimpsed heading around the closest book case and you can imagine my state of mind when she let out a piercing shriek of excitement. What followed is best imagined in slow motion because that is how I saw it, sweat dripping down the side of my face, fumbling with my bag, praying for patience. Aimée took off at top speed careening wildly through the store, intent on catching that cat if it was the last thing she did, yelling at the top of her capacity "Ca-a-a-at! Ca-a-a-a-at!!!" with employees looking on.

I wanted to slink behind the closest display and disappear, leaving Andrew to wrangle our toddler out of the store. But by the time I caught her Aimée had reached an even quieter section of the shop and I decided to hide with her and a pile of vintage Little Golden books in the hopes that we could sneak out later without having to look another employee in the face.

Some day we will look back and laugh together over this experience. And I think I will wish I had not cared what anyone else thought about the exuberance of our child.

Good Things...

Summer has kept my brain preoccupied. With canvas bags of greens, a day trip to the beach, a pile of books and the best Bible study I've ever been to. Moving to the center of this suburb, with it's endless maze of sidewalks has also motivated me to hit the pavement. And would you believe I've taken this beyond my long love of walking with Aimée in the stroller and have even begun running? After years thoroughly convinced I wasn't cut out for such intensity I find that it energizes my mind and pushes my body in the most satisfying way. Beginning the first of September I've even decided to begin training for a 10k. The wonders never cease.

And speaking of wonders, my biggest food discovery this summer has shocked my socks off: kale. Don't only crazy health nuts eat this rabbit food? Apparently not, because with a little experimenting we have discovered a smoothie packed with the stuff that I actually crave. Yes, crave. As in, "No, biscuits and bacon don't really sound good, think I'll make a kale smoothie." Who has taken over my brain?! Because not only do I seem to make these smoothies constantly, I'm adding kale to everything I can think of. Ok, maybe just to pasta. And quiche. Oh, and to omelets. This is scaring me. It makes my other significant food discovery seem perfectly average.

On a more internal note, I've been really fighting for myself this summer. You read correctly. Fighting for myself. As in, recognizing that all that is good and beautiful is opposed by the opposite forces in the world, and unless I'm willing to clear away the noise and pressure of doing, I'll never feel nurtured, rested or full inside.

And I'm tired of living like a stream, brimming some days (when I've had a great night of sleep, some quiet time and a great conversation with Andrew) and then other days only having shallow puddles of energy to exist on. I want to be a reservoir. Full both deep and wide, pouring over the top to those around me. Existing isn't enough. I need to thrive. And half the battle of learning to live full is figuring out what fills you.

I need to watch the light grow and the sun rise as I push myself through another mile. And I need piles of books I'm actually reading. Sometimes I need quiet and sometimes I need it turned all the way up...with no rhyme or reason to what I need when. I need to drive with the windows open and cook with the afternoon sun filling my tiny kitchen. Knitting needs to fill a basket close at hand. And I need to really dig into the Word consistently. This was why my summer study of the book Intimacy with God was such a highlight. Searching the Bible, scribbling notes, journaling, praying and talking with other women who were making this a part of their lives too was so cleansing. The words of Ephesians 5:26 have come alive, talking about Christ cleansing us with the washing of the water of the Word. It is so refreshing.

So I'm determined to finish this last week of August strong. To take Aimée to the park and keep working on our flip flop tans. To read a couple chapters before turning out the light. And to write again. Because there is life in words, and I want to drink them to the full.

Summer Weekend...

If you haven't taken the time to browse a farmers market recently I'm begging you: for the sake of your taste buds and culinary creativity you must find one this weekend! This season holds limitless potential for varieties, sizes, shades of color and great new things to try. (I'm looking forward to my first bag of pea shoots this week.)

Andrew would be wise to give me a spending limit as I load Aimée up into the stroller and strike out for our Saturday morning market, because I lose all sense of self control with piles of glistening eggplant, peaches wrapped in their velvet skins, small mountains of corn.

Did I mention that a local German bakery has a huge stall, loaded with treats that aren't too sweet, just sweet enough? I've walked quickly past them thus far, because a particularly dense fudge brownie calls my name so seductively. Once I give in I'm going to relapse into Sugar Land. Maybe next week...

Report...

Don't I owe you a report? After all, I've hardly said a word here, with all my running around creating in our home.

And we have been creating! What might appear to be hanging blinds is really creating privacy and peacefulness on long dark evenings when Andrew is at work. We've been stringing laundry line, planting basil, moving furniture, taking walks to explore, talking with neighbors, and sweeping wood floors.

And I'm loving the results. As you see below, even imperfect projects like the paper taped to the back of the vanity shelf can still make things more beautiful. We don't always have to sweat over the details.

So I haven't. Instead, I've been chopping watermelon for this incredible pico de gallo. 

Enjoy your weekend!

Little Changes...

The month of nesting continues! With a lot of hard work and Andrew's never-ending patience, our home continues to feel more settled each day. Yes!! I cannot tell you how great it feels to write this.

In the quiet afternoons while Aimée naps I've been pondering my art supplies/studio area in our bedroom. Because it truly is an empty canvas. In our first home I had a whole room to myself, filled with my fabric and beads. And honestly? I didn't actually sew in there as much as I expected to, or wanted to. On the contrary, I felt constantly disappointed in myself for not making time to enjoy the space.

































So when we moved to a small apartment I stashed boxes and art books under a desk and in the very top of the closet thinking I would downsize my plans and be content with accomplishing less. Still, the nagging feeling of failure and disappointment followed me.

Now I begin over once again, with a fresh slate, swept clean of the past and it's habits. Things have changed. I have a small child who happily naps for a couple of hours in the afternoon, and the recently-found skill of knitting. I have great hopes for the future, and am putting those hopes into practice even now by drafting an art vision and short-term goals. I'm picking up those needles, cutting out that fabric, sketching new ideas.

































Fresh beginnings are a wonderful thing.

A Start...

Pictures have been hung. Books have been piled next to comfortable chairs. And my hair dryer has a home. I would say we have made a real start to putting our home together!

And then we had this really wonderful moment this morning, sitting on the stairs just outside the kitchen door. Aimée still in her nightgown, hair glistening. My robe pulled close, even Andrew still had on pjs, and that somehow made it even better. Because for the first time we made enough steamed milk for our lattes to whip in a little sugar and cinnamon for Aimée's mug. She couldn't keep her little lips away from the edge, hands imitating my own. If I had known such delicious joy existed I would have dreamed of it.

The plans for this next week are still in process, but I'm looking forward to making a sheer curtain for the kitchen door, choosing more recent pictures for some frames and making magic in the medicine cabinet. I won't speak before my proverbial eggs are hatched, but I have an awesome Pinterest idea for the latter. Pictures soon to come!

A Long One...

Gracious, this has been a long week. All those lovely muscles in my thighs are begging me to stop. My list for today demands I stay focused. So I've come to rest on the couch, with the last of the day's light highlighting the pile of laundry next to me.

Many things have been learned this week about our new house:
- A simple fern set in the kitchen window is enough of our previous home to hold me over until this space feels more settled.
- Wood floors highlight every crumb of biscuit from breakfast and every smidgen of dirt tracked through. It makes me crazy. Crazy.
- Somehow my calculations were off when I was so sure I'd be able to drink coffee and watch the sun rise from the kitchen window. Turns out the sun wakes us up from the other side of the house. At least I can enjoy the last sunlight as I cook dinner!
- The pendant light fixture Andrew installed in Aimée's room? I adore it. With muted cornflower blue walls, the light looks even more beautiful, glowing like a giant water lily. (I've tried to capture this in a photo but I'm pretty sure it's impossible.)
- It's as if the built-in bookcases knew we were coming and arranged to have just the right amount of space.
- By my calculations it has been 13 years since I mowed a lawn, but the satisfaction in cutting wide bands through clover hasn't changed. Hopefully Andrew won't want to mow this summer, because I'm not sharing this cathartic pleasure with anyone. The scent is intoxicating.

There is so much more to tell you, but if I don't finish finding homes for all our cleaning supplies and other life-threatening possessions tonight then I'll have to continue my hyper-vigilance with Aimée tomorrow. And I really need to be able to relax. I'm sure you understand.

Nesting Month...

Our home is a maze of boxes. The walls bare, punctuated with nails I haven't pulled out. Aimée looked so confused tonight as I lifted her into her crib with the big mirror normally above it gone, leaving flat white. But we are on a count-down with only two days before our move to a darling little house and I couldn't delay emptying the walls anymore. It is time. Time to move on.

The years of our marriage are neatly divided in two year segments thus far, moving across states and towns to a new nest every other time we buy new calendars. And always, I fight the same inner questions of whether we can really make a new space feel so completely comforting and comfortable as the last. Silly, really, since each home has ended up being the best yet.

And it's not about the height of the ceilings or square footage. It's not really even about natural light, as important as that is to me. Home can be created anywhere we laugh together, working to arrange and tweak until we hear that almost imperceptible "click" that tells us we've got it right.

And it's about the small touches. A hand knit dish cloth next to the sink. The single flower in it's tiny vase somewhere unexpected. Sloppy stacks of books under the coffee table because we can't settle down to just one at a time. And now that we have a small child I'm realizing home is where I find crusts of baguette hiding under the kitchen table, small shoes wait by the door, and you can tell where she has been playing by the trail of toilet paper bits. (Aimée's latest obsession has been trying to wrap her stuffed animals in toilet paper...apparently it's harder than it sounds!)

And so we have declared June "Nesting Month." Because I'm ready to jump in and figure out what this home will feel like. And because my Pinterest boards are bursting with the best ideas I've found to make it welcoming and functional. Beware: you are my audience for the transformation of this small post World War II house with it's crazy low shower head and musty scent. I'm relying on you to pull me through fatigue and flagging enthusiasm. Knowing you are reading these words keeps me focused. I always tell Andrew I work best with an audience...

Wreck...

Our house is a delicious wreck this morning.

Last night I spent the evening with a friend, shopping for clothes that will make us feel pretty but won't leave the budget gasping for air. We planned all the losing and toning that we hope this spring will include. And then we ate a days worth of calories in burgers, wings and fries, laughing and diving deep into authenticity.

The cherry on the top was coming home to curl up on the couch and enjoy the latest episode of The Office. Guys, it was a great evening. Throwing responsibility and tidiness to the wind, I rolled into bed leaving the house a fantastic disaster. I never do that. I mean, maybe every couple of months when I'm unusually tired or have to be up super early. But this was pure, luxurious abandonment of everything I try so hard for...and it felt great.

This morning I'm not allowing myself to hurry around and make up for yesterday, but am easing into the day with chai and my favorite sweater. Aimée's little friend is over to play and they are having a fantastic time putting those interlocking rings on their little wrists as bracelets. And I'm taking this moment to pause... to breathe... to allow the chaos surrounding me to create a cocoon where I can rest and be at peace.

Burst...

The last couple of weeks have brought good things to our home. Pockets of creativity bursting through, unplanned for. And I've been scrambling to keep my camera or pen in hand to capture all of this. In my experience this flow of ideas and action cannot be forced. Coaxed with lots of rest, reading and carefully chosen surroundings, yes. But they are a gift. Not something to be taken for granted. 

In making much of small ideas, documenting them, sharing them, I find an internal stream of thoughts is begun, and if I watch closely more ideas will follow. This week began with fruit being prepped for the day, and realizing that while plastic storage containers are just fine, they can't hold a candle to a jam jar. Why would I want chocolate when this is waiting in the frig for me?

A little idea Aimée and I are trying out is taking the hour before lunch to focus on some of the stitching projects spread out on my work tables. Little one has been remarkably cooperative, especially considering that she is restricted to the top of our bed, within arms reach of me, to play with whatever I dig out of my stash. Thus far my box of silk flowers has kept her the happiest. And I find myself daydreaming about what fun she will have when she's old enough to be given a needle and thread...

Why must breakfast be rushed through? When a huge pot of tea can help us linger over biscuits and jam, eggs smothered in salty parmesan and roasted tomatoes? Managing the normal ups and downs of the day is so much easier when we have begun with conversation in morning light.

Terrified...

I may look calm and focused at my favorite cafe this morning, sitting in muted sun, hazelnut latte at my elbow, typing away.

But within this heart is a different scene entirely.

We went to look at apartments today, Aimée curious and observant, Andrew asking questions, weighing options, taking notes, filling out information cards. And slowly I moved from a place of excitement for our future, dreaming of possibilities... to cowering in uncertainty.

Our current home with all it's cozy nooks and memories, it's cheery habits and music feels too safe and certain to leave. What if I can't make this magic in another space? What if it doesn't feel like home after months of work? What if that weird smell each new location has can't be changed no matter how much I bake and scrub? Without the rhythm of sun rising across familiar trees, two white ducks swimming below my window, what will I build the day on? Confidence stripped away, all I'm left with is a tangled mess of my own insecurity and fear of the future.

I know where to turn in times like these. As cold anxiety climbs up my leg to make a nest in my head. Friends and family can sympathize but only Jesus has had a finger on the pulse of my life from the beginning and knows how unspeakably precious home is to me.

You may see God as frightening in stern disapproval or distant and cold. But in my experience He is a refuge from inner storms. The ideal counselor, He understands the significance of my inner turmoil and can calm me like no one else. He also doesn't hesitate to give me the hard truth, to advise the very thing I don't want to consider...

Surrender. Once again this theme enters my small world; this time surrender to the unknown of where and what our home will be. Surrender to all I can't guarantee. After all, home has never truly been about the visual. Home is the expression of what is within me, making it's way out in a hundred little ways.

Hesitantly I move forward into whatever our next step will be, mind soothed and centered.  

Because I have finally let go.

Holiday...

The last several weeks have been chock full of elf work, as my mom called it growing up. Preparing for a big Christmas party, recovering from the big Christmas party, baking and creating, stitching and wrapping. There were shopping trips with friends and guests over for coffee while we enjoyed the tree lights. There were roaring fires and cider, visits with family.

I'll be honest, I'm exhausted.

As in, gray bags under my eyes, grumpy, going to bed with the house a giant wreck last night because I just don't have the energy to care anymore. And it felt really wonderful to know that The Day, while enjoyed thoroughly, is no longer there to push towards through miles of to-do lists.

Do I sound Grinchy to you? Because I can assure you that this weary tone in my voice is merely the aftermath of wonderful weeks of magic-making in our home. Aimée and I read books by the dozen and I created several vignettes that make my heart sing. 

It's not that I've attempted more than the average person, but I've added to normal responsibilities, and expected to feel fresh and awake enough to enjoy it.

As children Christmas can't last long enough and a serious shadow would always fall on my world Christmas night as I realized all I had looked forward to was drawing to a close. I still enjoy the holiday just as much, but instead I'm delighted to see the day draw to a close. It means a fresh start. Time for the gym, normal sleep patterns, fresh goals and focus on where I'm headed. For this blog that means you will be seeing a lot more of me. I've missed you! That sounds like such a cliché, but at the end of so many days I've remembered this space and felt sad to be ignoring it briefly. I need this outlet. To think things through in words, even if they are never posted. To share what I'm creating. To communicate authentically.

So before I continue catching up on sleep, I will share a few of my favorite things from the last few weeks:

As November drew to a close I found myself remembering the chocolate houses we made as children with a family friend, smothered with candy, watched longingly until the day after Christmas when we would be allowed to actually eat it. Sometimes old memories should be relived.

Terrariums fascinate me. Living creations, able to reflect so many moods and styles, pieces gathered from my home and a friend's yard. This deer and I have been keeping Christmas together, set by my kitchen sink as I wash dishes and kneed bread.

I share our experiences hoping they resonate with your own heart, that your holiday was filled with good things, and that you too are gently tucking them away, looking up and forward into the new year. 

Week of Nesting, A Conclusion...

So much for Day 6 and 7 in their proper order! Oh the plans I had for doing last week... yet when I reach the moment for those intentions to be launched I find I must choose: action, or relationship?

Obviously I chose the latter. Conversations, laughter, big mugs topped with whipped cream, quiet evenings watching movies and simply being with friends. But my favorite are the times spent with Andrew. Somehow in the process of getting ready for bed a bottle of wine will be opened, and I end up on the couch in my favorite pj's, talking with him. We talk about a lot of things these days... Aimée and her development, the calendar, what we are having for dinner, essential stuff. The details that keeps our little world spinning properly. Somehow we've not talked like this in a long while. About the things really on our hearts, lighthearted laughter, smiling, seeing him again. How on earth have we gone so long without this? And how do we get to this place again?

What I do know is that today I find myself standing at the kitchen sink, hands raised, soapy water dripping down, letting go of action again for a moment to stand in awe. Morning light reflected in yesterday's puddles. The textures of morning. Smiling at my daughter as I zip her pj's up. Inhaling the beauty, exhaling praise.

To return to Days 6 and 7, I've been so looking forward to stocking our little pantry as part of Nesting Week! Let's just say I went a bit crazy, and when the cashier gave me the total I swallowed hard. Most women love to shop for clothes or furniture, I can't think of anything I enjoy more than a jaunt in Trader Joe's. Eh, we'll use all of this in the coming weeks and months. And I like peeking in occasionally to revel in my piles of loot.

Nesting has continued with my first experience using spaghetti squash (huge success!), cleaning long-forgotten crevices (I was appalled by what I got off my laundry room floor), and experimenting with natural room fresheners (this one worked beautifully).

Despite wonderful intentions I would not have done so much without the accountability of sharing this week with you. Thank you for joining me on the journey...

Week of Nesting, Day 5...

Cleaning out under the bathroom counter was supposed to be a zippy 30 minute project...which morphed into two hours as I tossed, rearranged, and was reminded of all the great products waiting for me to enjoy. Which is why I'll keep this short tonight: a hot shower and self-made spa night awaits...

Week of Nesting, Day 4...

We carried autumn comfort to another home today, where a baby was just welcomed and the prospect of dinner ready to pop in the oven brought visible relief to a mother's eyes.

The question became: what to fix? After much debate and recipe flipping I decided on chicken pot pie full of cream sauce and bright vegetables, topped with perfectly flaky buttermilk biscuits. My mouth is watering remembering how well it turned out.

And of course I had to include chocolate chip cookies, swathed in wax paper, packed in a white bakery box. It was one of those golden moments in the afternoon sunshine, delivering a meal like that. I like to think it was nesting at it's best: for a woman who simply can't nest for her own family right now.

Week of Nesting, Day 3...

Over the years we have gathered a tidy box of autumn things, and somehow between seasons I manage to forget what we have. Why, it's almost as suspenseful as a birthday, rediscovering each object! Today we pulled that box out, and I spent some time rearranging, hanging a wreath of leaves, and generally enjoying myself. Don't you love this roughly made wooden pear?

And the orange shortbread cookies from Day 2? It seemed appropriate that since they were made in the shape of acorns they should be dipped in chocolate just enough to create the cap. A simple detail I'll have to remember because it transformed plain little cookies into irresistible gems.

All day I've been putting off the one cleaning project planned for this Day 3: the appalling layer of dust and grease atop the kitchen cabinets. Which wouldn't be so bad if it weren't that I have bottles of wine, serving bowls, tea pots and such stored up there. Disgusting. Anyhow, I gave up trying to summon the energy on my own and am using you, my readers as accountability. As soon as I put this online I will go attack that dirt as if my life depends on it. Ready? 1... 2... 3!