Some Friday afternoons I think there's nothing better than holing up in my little office, the door slid closed, sitting in the window seat, music playing, making something new. The kids are settled, no homework, no busy schedule (usually), or at least there's typically a break in time before running back out on to the next thing. The still and calm are all I'm asking for, the time to myself, the time to breathe deep and settle in to the weekend, knowing the demands are temporarily are fewer, less urgent, or can just wait.
Things have changed of course, I'm not quite sure how I landed at exactly this place, but I know it happened gradually, largely without my being aware. Every once in a while I'm reminded of my age, my stage, where I really am. Working with many twenty-something-year-olds can be an ever-present reminder of how I fell asleep one day at 30, whirled around three times on the pregnancy merry-go-round which promptly spat me out 10 years later, back into another crew of twenty-something-year-olds who hold the mirror up to my age.
"What are you doing tonight?" one of them asked me one day at work, as if I had plans or something. (and on a weekday!)
I chuckled and started in, "Well, let's see, I get the kids off the bus, then it's homework, then one load of laundry after the next, you know the laundry never ends, then there's general child management which can involve nearly anything you want to name from conflict resolution to deep conversation to tickling to sports to friends and playdates or wiping tears, then meal preparation, lunch prep for the next day, back to the laundry, connecting with the husband, tending to household management, my business, life, dogs, chickens, the kids some more and then it's their bedtime and then more time with my husband and then my bedtime and it all starts over again the next day. Why, what are you doing?"
"Aggh! That sounds practically awful!" was his only response.
"Hmmm. Awful. It's never been awful. In fact, I wouldn't describe it ever as awful. It's really all I've ever wanted and all I still want. I love my family. I wouldn't trade it for anything. That's just the way things are." he was dumbstruck.
And I realize how thankful I am for that merry-go-round and how astonished I am at how it works its magic. If he's lucky, he'll step foot onto his own one day and he won't know what happened and that's probably the way it's really supposed to be, that is if you're very, very lucky.
After searching for just the right beads to replace my favorite black ones that I can no longer buy, I've found success and have two new necklaces to share.
They may look similar to what you've seen in the past, but trust me, there are some subtle differences, especially with the second one.
I hope you'll enjoy, from my shop, the first necklace here and the one below here. The fruits of my Friday afternoon labor.
Some Friday afternoons I think there's nothing better than holing up in my little office, the door slid closed, sitting in the window seat, music playing, making something new. The kids are settled, no homework, no busy schedule (usually), or at least there's typically a break in time before running back out on to the next thing. The still and calm are all I'm asking for, the time to myself, the time to breathe deep and settle in to the weekend, knowing the demands are temporarily are fewer, less urgent, or can just wait.
These are the ratty, old coveralls I put on the other day so I could shimmy under the house to try to find the mouse that had died somewhere up under there. I did it partly on a dare, (husbands you know) but partly because I said I would, because I could, and because sometimes I like doing things I have no business doing as long as I know no one will get hurt. It's my chance to feel like a pioneer, a frontierswoman, you know way out here in the boonies, 5 miles from the suburban mega mall in my farmhouse, crawling through the dirt in a two-foot crawlspace under 80 years of timber and spiderwebs looking for rodent carcasses. Of course it was yucky, but then, what would you say you've done lately that really reminded you that you were alive? That's what I thought. And no, to answer your question, I didn't find a cotton pickin' thing.
It all looks so different in winter. Cold, withdrawn, asleep. Even on a near 50 degree day, yesterday, which has suddenly turned into snow, sleet and ice today. Only a few short months to go and I can pry myself from the woodstove more often. How I love that woodstove.
The dogs could care less about woodstoves.
The cat on the other hand only ventures out on 50 degree days and stays plastered to the woodstove on others. She's 14 1/2. We'll allow it.
She and everything else seems to wish for the sun's return, even the chickens who are easily tricked by a light into laying.
I'm making plans to increase the flock,
the girls are almost two which I hear is nearing the tail end of their prime laying years. I suppose that could be good, or bad, depending on how you look at it. At any rate, some youngsters are in the works.
And since I can't bring myself to kill anyone (it's a bit early yet), you may just see them aging gracefully and dying the old fashioned way, as the new brood takes over laying. I expect some ruffled feathers. The henhouse can be a rough place.
From where I sit change is certain.
Hello again. It's good to be back with new pictures for you, new finds by way of that little red bell up there, and new listings in the shop. You'll also start to notice (unfortunately) a watermark accompanying my photos due to the pirating of my product photos by some (yes, more than one) companies based out of China. All I can picture is the poor soles in some sweatshop somewhere being forced to try to reproduce my stuff. Wish it weren't so.
I love sifting back through old pictures. These are just a few of my favorites from the past year. While I tend to think of them as a record of what is or what was, I'm struck by the thought that they really just serve as a record of change. The kids look different every time I turn around as does the sky, the garden, really everything. Each shot is only a glimpse of a fleeting moment, but they stay with me for as long as I choose to keep them. Enjoy.
