growing things up

 For the last month I have worked very hard at convincing Kenneth to take my parents up on their kind offer to let us/him plant a vegetable garden in their back yard. I have elaborated on the joys of homegrown veggies, explained how he could study all summer in the backyard with the pups. I have wheedled and talked his ear off about how GOOD FOR HIM it would be if only he would agree to garden. 

 And now that he's agreed I realize that the good for him is really a good for me. I am the one who needs afternoons in the sun surrounded by green and growth. I am the one who desperately needs to prove to herself that she is/I am capable of growing food. Of keeping things alive. We have dreams of land, of produce--farm dreams. Kenneth doesn't doubt them. I don't either. The dreams are good and wholesome and wonderful. 

 What I doubt is me. Do I have a green enough thumb to keep a garden growing? Will I be able to maintain rows of veggies and an orchard and a food forest and chickens and bunnies and goats and geese? Can I keep all this alive and in doing so feed our family? Do I have what it takes to be a family farmer? 

 I have filled this apartment with little potted plants and time and time again forgotten to water, or move, or feed them only to come home and find them withered and brown. How much of this is my hectic, all consuming work schedule and how much of it is just me? 

 I have this crystal clear image of who I want to be and the life I want to lead when we're in our forever home. Some of this I can begin to practice now in our city apartment. So much more of it I won't know if I will be able to do until we get were we're heading. There is no way to prove I'm capable of living the life I want to lead except by one day jumping straight in. 

And that is terrifying. 

This summer we are moving from balcony gardeners to backyard gardeners. I hope we do well and I hope one day, when we move from backyard gardeners to homesteaders we jump right in and live life well. I pray my fears are unfounded and that the life we are heading for is the life for us. 

But I know, as long as I have Kenneth walking this path with me, that everything will turn out all right. 

layered

Last week I pulled out Zeus, my trusty Olympus Trip 35, and blew off about three years of dust. I was surprised to open it and find, what I thought was, a fresh roll of film inside. So I started shooting. I took pictures around the little, lovely apartment I've called home for years: pictures of the dining room, the living room, the husband studying in the work room. I took the camera with me to meet dear Katie and Cordelia for our third annual celebration of the equinox; this year we met at the Botanical Gardens. I shot through the roll and dropped it off to be developed. Ever impatient when film is involved, I had Kenneth pick it up later that evening. I was surprised again to discover that the roll of film was not fresh, rather it held scenes from a trip to Monterey, VA from Spring 2010 now overlapped with pictures from Spring 2014.

I was lucky in my photos both now and four years ago because the layers of images seem to compliment rather than ruin each other. I have been flipping through the photos since I received them and comparing. Look where we were four years ago. Look at the trips, the hair, the car you were driving. Remember that jacket? Remember that day? It has been a gift to have rediscovered these photos and the memories they hold. It is fun to have the then and now as a visual, layered and easy to compare. 

We were twenty then, young and in love. Together only a year or so and traveling with his family. Kenneth was much the same as he is now; maybe a little more stubborn and definitely a lot more carefree and wild. I was much different, most obviously on the outside: ombre unwashed hair, hipster glasses and track jacket. We were both so young looking with our baby fat cheeks. Only four years separate the then and now and oh boy, it feels like forever. How will I feel when I show these photos to our children in ten or twenty years? Will it seem like another lifetime? 

Now we are half a decade into our forever together. Older and in love. Married and not yet settled, still dreaming and planning for the life we want to live. In the original photos we are just starting out on our path together, in the new ones we are a little further down the path. While it is fun to look back and see where we started, it is even better to celebrate where we are and to look forward to where we are headed. This is the journey of a lifetime and oh boy, it is a good one. 

everything is better in a pie crust

There is something so lovely about waking up without an alarm blaring and not having to leap out of bed to get going. A leisurely breakfast of homemade bread, cheese, and grapefruit while sipping water and coffee. Spending an hour or so looking for pear pie recipes and figuring out what to make for lunch. Music is playing all day and the sun is shining in (or as much can shine in with taped up windows). It is a good day today.

Yesterday was also a good day. Katie came over and helped me clear out my wardrobe, we donated SIX bags of clothing. I am so grateful for her help and I feel so much lighter now that all that excess is out of my apartment. For lunch, I served a spinach ricotta pie and for dessert, a apple custard pie. I loved the spinach ricotta pie (so rich and creamy) and enjoyed the apple custard pie, although I was reminded that I don't really like apple pies. 

Bonus Photo:

My bearded bear of a puppy man.

the anatomy of a snow day

We have had far too many snow days this year. What was at first a novelty has become an annoyance as every flake that falls reminds me that Spring is still weeks away. Last night as we watched the forecast of five to eight inches of snow, I gave in to the inevitability of another snow day. I decide to enjoy the day for what it is--an unexpected reprieve in an otherwise busy time. 

I slept in and lounged about in my pajamas long past the hour I would usually stay in bed. I explored the white woods with Kenneth (forgetting my sd card in the adapter, hence the lack of photographic evidence). Lunch was a warm soup and hearty scone, the perfect antidote to a face frozen by the cold. The rest of the day was spent making coffee and listening to my current favorite record. Kenneth and I baked the worlds ugliest carrot cake, luckily it tastes better than it looks. A late dinner, a glass of wine, and now, early to bed. 

Today was an exemplary snow day. A snowy escape from the responsibilities of real life. Tomorrow we all go back to reality. 

in the woods

There are many people who have come before me (and probably some at the same time) who have found more lovely ways to express the feeling of a walk in the woods. The smell of the trees in the air. The sight of light playing peek-a-boo through the branches. The glow of green leaves in the canopy above. The stretch and sore of muscles in your legs. The calm in your soul as you walk and think and dream and breathe fresh air.

At the end of a long, gray, cold winter, I begin to crave the woods like a junkie. I get snappish and sulky and the only solution is a woods-fix. I begin to fantasize of a cabin in the woods, sipping coffee on the porch with no neighbors but the birds. I long for the quiet of an afternoon and the way the light falls across the floor. I remember how perfect it is to take a nap under a slowly twirling ceiling fan with the wind rustling through the branches as a lullaby. How much longer until every day is a dream day among the trees?  

I grew up spending entire summers in the woods, coming home only for weekends before dashing off to another camp in another forest. I still remember the feeling of an early morning walk through the woods to breakfast. The absolute awe of a meadow, normally bright and cheerful, filled with fog and the softest light from the slowly rising sun. God is in the woods. I feel Him there when the light creates a glow and turns an ordinary tree into a cathedral of green. I feel Him in the woods the most and when I am there I have no doubts, just peace.

I am ready for the woods always.

Bonus photo: