the tire swing

Since the day we moved in, I have wanted a tire swing in one of our oak trees. Not because I'm that into tire swinging, but because I think oak trees and tire swings go together like tomatoes and basil. 

I found this tutorial online and got to work. Lucky for us our grove was stuffed full of old tires that I had removed earlier this summer and placed in the pole barn. So I had my pick of tires to choose from. I spent a lot of time scrubbing it clean, and then drilled three holes in the bottom so that it will drain the water when it rains.

Ivar liked it and didn't need a push. Being up that high and gently spinning was fun enough for him. 

And then we gave a ride to Cookie Mama and Cookie Baby. 

And when we're not playing on it, I think it makes for the prettiest yard decoration. This was early this morning with a humid fog on the ground. So lovely.

trimming a tree near you...

Yesterday my dad showed up and started trimming our trees again. If you've been wondering what he's been up to in his retirement it can be summed up in two words: travel and trees. Lots of both. He got this new extended saw thingy that lets him reach branches way up high. And since this purchase, many of our trees have gotten a much needed haircut.

It's a perfect Paul Harrington project. He often mentioned that ministry was so ongoing...you rarely got to see a project finished because you were dealing with human lives. But tree trimming...now there is a project that shows immediate results.

Yesterday he seemed downright chipper to be out in the muggy heat. He kept saying things like, "I grew up in this. It's good for my pores. This is good exercise, think of the money I'm saving by not joining Lifetime."

Ivar is a quote a day

Ivar: Is me three?

Me: No, you're still two. But you'll be three in November.

Ivar: Mmmm. It takes a long time to get three.

***

I told Ivar I was going upstairs to put on my workout clothes. When I came back down he excitedly showed me, "I got your exershoes!"

***

Me: Ivar, why were you so sad in the kitchen just now. Why were you so upset? Do you think you're kind of tired?

Ivar: Probably a lot.

apples and stars

Saturday was a day that all day long kept me keenly aware of our new lifestyle. We were outside in the morning, picking apples and playing in the rock box. Then I spent a good chunk of time out in the heat, scrubbing chicken poo off of our driveway. If you know anything of chicken poo, you know the stuff is cement. And our driveway was becoming an embarrassment because our chickens hang out under our cars, causing a lot of mess. So I spent the early afternoon hosing down our driveway and using a scrub brush on my hands and knees to clean it all off. It was gross.

But that night Rory started to make an apple pie with the apples from our tree. It was close to ten by the time the pie was done, so we took it outside and ate it on our camping chairs on our fantastically clean driveway. It was windy and there were no bugs.

We sat there for a long, long time looking up at the stars. We saw six satellites and three shooting stars. And we talked about how crazy it is that we don't look at the stars more often. I noted how I've watched more Dancing with the Stars in the past year than I have the actual stars in the sky. But star gazing leads to good, deep conversation. I think that was God's intent. Looking up at night leads you to the big questions, the greatness of God, brings you to a place of awe and wonder and gently puts you back in your little mortal place. We covered a lot of ground while we slouched in our chairs: space stations and moon patterns, life on other planets, gps systems, and parenting.

So here's an idea for one of these last evenings of summer: get outside and look up. And if you can bring a warm piece of apple pie with you, even better. And if you happen to have a patch of yard that isn't covered in chicken poo, better still.

"Mama, I gotta work a job."

Rory built the kids a rock box that we painted red and then filled with little stones. We saw a rock box at the county fair and thought it was a good idea. So far the perks of a rock box versus a sand box is that sand doesn't get in hair, eyes or bottoms, and no animals use it as their litter box as they pass through our yard. And the greatest perk is that it serves as the third parent. Ivar is out there all the time.

He'll tell me the game plan when we get home from errands or when he gets up in the morning. He'll say, "Mama, I gotta work a job. With the bulldozer."

Today I heard him downstairs say quietly to himself, "I gotta go work a job. Bye." And then listened to the kitchen door close and watched him, from an upstairs window, walk out to the rock box.

At least he has a strong work ethic.

the rooster scooter

The timing could not have been anymore perfect. Just after sending three of our roosters to "a friend's house," Uncle Carl gave Ivar a Rooster Scooter.

I picked up the rooster scooter on my way back from the retreat this weekend, where Uncle Carl showed me the hatchery and all that was involved in making this happy rooster.

This rooster scooter has already gotten around a bit. He made his way to the Carver County Fair where he took home a blue ribbon! And now he's at our place, getting to know the other chickens at the grovestead. Uncle Carl, you hit it out of the park with this one.

good writing

My friend Meta (above with her son Jasper) is one of my favorite writers on the planet. I love her way with words. I love how she processes life and her ability to put words to things I think are too tricky to articulate.

She's done it again. I read this post and thought the whole time, I've got to pass this on...

the soul sisterhood mother daughter retreat

I just had the most lovely weekend. Surrounded by seventh graders and their inspiring mothers, I got to focus on motherhood...without my own kids nearby. It was restorative, restful and ended up being a powerful few days to remember my focus in mothering, my purpose and why I do what I do. 

I got to help out at the Soul Sisterhood mother daughter retreat. 

The mom's and daughters were remarkable. On Saturday night a photographer came to take pictures of each mother with her girl(s). You can see those pictures right here on Leslie Crane's facebook page (scroll down to see all the mom's and daughters). The pictures are stunning and make my heart swell a bit because I know those mom's now and how fiercely they love their daughters. 

Best of all, I got to work with Amanda and Melanie, two dear women who quickly became fast friends. We had an awesome time together and hope to work together for the future mother-daughter retreats. I already can't wait.

If you are interested in bringing your own daughter on a mother-daughter retreat, be sure to check out the website for more information. Or, if you would like to find six other friends of your daughters and invite their mothers, you can set up your own retreat on the Soul Sisterhood calendar. Retreats focus on our identity in Christ Jesus, creativity and crafting, deep conversation and healthy meals. You can read more of the mission and vision here.

our first eggs! (and other news)

+ Oh my word. I just changed the water for the chickens and found two fresh eggs. Our first eggs! Which basically turns today into a holiday. Eggs! Two of them!

+ On Sunday, my new stroller was delivered. It's a joovy sit and stand and for the first time since having Elsie, I can cart both my kids around in one stroller. This changes everything.

+ My toenails are blue. I'll spare you the picture, but last night I told Ivar I was going to get my toenails painted. He asked what color and I threw the question back at him. He said, "blue, like your eyes. Because I like your eyes." My heart swooned and I believe you'd have painted your toes blue too.

+ Ivar seems to have spurts of emotion that must be released. Sometimes they come out in tantrums, sometimes in silliness. My favorite was a few days ago in the car when he started panicking in the back seat, screaming, "I can't see my eyes!!! I can't see my eyes!" I looked back, and he was trying. I had to calmly explain that no one can see their eyes.

+I am taking an art journaling class online and it is so good for me. To have my modpodge out, to be free writing with a pen, to be squirting out paint, cutting out ribbon and paper and gluing it all down. It just feels so good to play.

+This weekend I am helping lead a mother daughter retreat for The Soul Sisterhood. I am so excited to meet the moms and daughters and to put my retreat leader hat back on. This will be my first two night stretch away from my kids since Elsie was born. I'll miss them, but I think we can agree that it is time!

Happy Weekend everybody. Or as said in our house, Happy Incredible Edible Eggs Day!

red barn farm

We spent a glorious evening at Red Barn Pizza Farm, a beautiful place that operates as a csa and brick oven pizza joint. The gardens are stunning and the rolling fields in the distance made me want to be a painter...it is just such a pretty time of year, everything green and bright.

Our pizza was awesome (though pricey!), and the weather was perfect. Most of all it was a great night of catching up with good friends. And for taking pictures by tall corn.

potty training and cupcakes

I have a friend who told me she was going to potty train her daughter in only three days. She told me about her plan the night before she was beginning. I decided to wait and see if it worked. 

Three days later I got a victorious text message. So hanging on her every word, I made a little plan and decided to give it a go. Ivar is more than ready, talking about it all the time. I had an eager pupil on my hands. And the thing about three day training is that if it doesn't go well, you're just back in the pack with the longer range trainers. I had nothing to loose.

We began yesterday morning by taking all the diapers in Ivar's room and putting them into Elsie's room. We removed his changing station and I showed him his new Thomas the train underwear. And then we unpacked his cool potty chair.

We had a few accidents and I began learning his cues. By the end of day one we had a double victory in the little potty and I was overjoyed. In the excitement I said to Ivar, "you did such a good job! let's make cupcakes to celebrate!" This sort of flew out of my mouth. It wasn't a bribe, because I hadn't mentioned the cupcakes as a reward. They were only now being brought up because cupcakes are Ivar's love language.

And since it was bedtime when I said it, I told him we'd make the cupcakes in the morning.

But then this morning came and after we had a few accidents I realized that I wasn't in the mood to make cupcakes with a two-year-old. Potty training, it turns out, is parental punishment enough. I didn't need to throw baking with a toddler into the mix.

So I loaded up the kids and we went to the cupcake shop in town. I adore this place. And as I sat there, eating my chocolate truffle cupcake I was very aware that this reward was speaking my love language as well. In fact, I don't think this trip to the cupcake shop had much to do with Ivar. It was for me, the potty trainer.

We've had a few more messes and a few more victories. We won't know how successful our three days have been until tomorrow night. But no matter what the outcome, you may very well find me hanging out at the cupcake shop. Because training is a lot of work.

to market, to market...

Well, I believe a morning like this morning separates the men from the boys. Or at least the carnivores from the herbivores. For sure the hens from the roosters.

Early this morning we took three of our roosters to be processed. Or as we told Ivar, "to a friend's house." I am sad to say goodbye to Almonzo and Hamburgerpoopedonthecarpet. They were awesome roosters and behaved nicely. I was sorry to see them go.

But I wasn't sorry to see Eggs go. Eggs is a bully. I called him jerkface for the last week of his life. He tried to attack me three times so that I started carrying a stick. And as he'd flap his wings towards me, scratching my legs with his talons I had a bawk of my own and screamed, "I am the alpha wolf!!!!"

It's too bad though. If Rory and I were the type who entered birds into illegal cock fights, and if we were looking to make a lot of money fast, I think Eggs would have been our ticket.

So on the menu this week: chicken, Hamburger and Eggs.

I don't know if I'll be able to do it though. Well maybe Eggs. Though Rory said, if his insides reflect his outsides, he is going to taste bad.

the things Ivar says

I just found Ivar laying on his belly on top of all of his foam blocks saying quietly to himself, "I am so amazing. I'm so amazing."

When he thinks the day is getting stale he'll ask me real upbeat, "So what's the plan?"

He loves playing Happy Birthday. He'll put all sorts of treasures in a little box and bring it to me, and I give him a big reaction and he runs off to fill the box with more surprises.

He was playing with blocks and made a cross. He came and found me screaming, "It's Grandpa Paul's church! It's Grandpa Paul's church!" I love that.

Rory's cousin Jon taught Ivar to kiss his forearms and say, "two tickets to the gun show." He whips it out at the most random times and it kills me every time.

I took the kids to pick our first baby tomato for my salad for lunch. I made it a big deal and told Ivar he could carry the baby tomato to the house for me. He cupped it gently in his hands. I picked some sweet peas and checked on the eggplants. When I got to the garage I asked where the tomato was. He replied, "I licked it. It was yucky. So I THROW IT!" Then I went on a pathetic scavenger hunt looking for the baby tomato. I didn't find it. I have a feeling the chickens won the hunt.

grandma's honesty

I got so much feedback from yesterday's post. A few heartfelt phone calls, some kind emails and really thoughtful, nice comments. Thank you. Solidarity is so comforting. And empowering. I'll try to remember this solidarity as get on my hands and knees to remove dried banana paste from the kitchen floor each night. Or every other night. Or once a week. Or maybe I'll just ask Rory to do it.

I think I've written this story before, but I think of it often. Especially when we're on the topic of honesty in motherhood.

I remember my grandma writing in an email once about a hard day in her own mothering. She was at her wits end, with all sorts of laundry to iron and things to do and couldn't see an end to any of it. There was a storm coming across the prairie with wind howling and moving violently through the trees. She said she walked out of the house alone and walked towards that storm and she screamed. She yelled and said everything she wanted to say.

She said she wanted to load the little kids into the car and head to the Black Hills.

She didn't do it, but I remember talking to my cousins at length about how helpful that story was for all of us mothers. Because grandma was remarkable in every single way. She set the bar so high for mothering and home making and church involvement and service to the community. But somehow this story helped put a bit more human into the wondrous woman that was our grandma.

I assume she went back into the house, ironed the clothes and got the kids to bed. And then she went to bed herself and likely prayed for the strength and grace to do it all over again. And I'm glad she did. She has seven remarkable kids as her reward. And her kids raised remarkable kids. And that family really rocked it in the 80's.

on mothering a one and two year old

Oh man. I saw this book at the library, read the title and added it to the stack. I couldn't agree with the title more. I grew up babysitting. I used to call mom's and ask if I could come over and play with their kids. Ha! I worked as a nanny, babysat every day of the summer for families with working mom's. I took kids on bike rides, plane rides and entertained two sweet boys on a tour bus. I babysat all through college, seminary and even while married and living in Montana, I babysat.

So when we first got pregnant I didn't feel a bit apprehensive. I knew babies. I knew toddlers. I knew tantrums and bedtime routines and how to get herds out the door and into the car. I was ready.

But yesterday I called my mom bawling. I told her I just wasn't cut out for this. I have a cold, Elsie is so fussy lately and isn't sleeping. She was up all night the night before and I was running on no sleep. Ivar is testing, always testing. Trying to find every boundary. And yesterday I just couldn't see any relief. This is my every day. My weekends look no different than my weekdays. And it feels like I am on some perpetual crazy cycle of wiping noses and then wiping bottoms and then noses again and bottoms too.

Yesterday I took a phone call with a woman I really wanted to talk with. I had just made mini muffins (from a box) and as I tried to keep my kids quiet enough so I could really contribute to the conversation, I fed my children a dozen mini muffins. A dozen. Twelve! Mini muffins! Just to keep them quiet.

But thankfully, as happens with every day of motherhood, bedtime came and I got a good nights rest in me. And I woke up feeling ready for this day.

It makes me feel so manic, but I am starting to think that maybe motherhood is manic. My patience has never been tried like this before. I am finding my ugliest self inside of me, a sinful girl that I used to be really good at keeping at bay. But she's tired and irritable and impatient and hungry and selfish and sinful. And she's me. I'm trying to come to terms with that...the girl I thought I was, versus the girl I now know I am. Motherhood is a different kind of refiners fire. And I find myself humbled, aware of my weakness and able to see my inability to do it on my own more than ever before.

our reference books

We have a few favorite books that we refer to a lot as we make our way on this little farm. The Backyard Homestead was Rory's first book in this genre, purchased years ago, and sort of set a vision for us way before we moved to this property. Back to Basics was the next book we got, and Rory poured over every single page telling me things excitedly like, "we could make our own cheese!"

The most recent reads are The Self-Sufficient Life which is my personal favorite and the top two that we got from the library.

While at Mount Carmel we were up late each night playing The Game of Things with our cousins. I really love that game, sort of a balderdash of sorts, except instead of definitions to words you make up an answer to a thing: ie: things you shouldn't say in a hospital, things you shouldn't regift etc...

One round the card that came up was "Things that hang."

We giggled and then everyone wrote down their answers. After they were collected each answer was read aloud by one person. We then had to guess who wrote what.

In the mix was this answer: Braided Onions.

I laughed until I cried and never did recover that night. I knew exactly who had written that one. Rory, the love of my life, who was reading all about root cellars.

Because Braided Onions should hang. And if hung properly, you can increase their edible life twice as long.

And now you know.

year one at the grovestead

We just hit our one year mark. We've been in our new house now for 365 days. In lots of ways I can't believe we've only been here a year. But in other ways I clearly know that a year has passed. Because this six day old baby I am holding here, on the day of our move, is now climbing up the stairs and pulling herself to look out the windows.

Rory and I were throwing the frisbee around last night, reflecting on year one. He commented that his biggest learning this first year was the pace of time. He said that every project he worked on (his office in the woods, building the chicken coop, getting someone to plant our field, evaporating 90 gallons of sap into maple syrup, and tilling, planting and laying drip irrigation in the garden) all felt like projects that took forever. But in looking back, it is amazing how much was accomplished in this first year. Every item on the to do list looks like a huge mountain to climb, but day by day we kept getting to the top.

I think this year will go down in the record books for me as Most Personal Growth. I'd accept that award, bawling at the microphone, blubbering on about how a baby can really throw you off a bit. I'd talk about how the move from city to country was actually a way bigger adjustment than I ever acknowledged while in the midst of the transition. I'd talk about how this winter never ended and I thought I was going crazy, and how sometimes I really, really miss our cat Toonces. And then they'd flare up the get-her-off-the-stage music, because I would have just mentioned my old cat, which took it too far.

But the other thing that comes to mind when I think about this first year in our new home is this: We have learned so much. The knowledge that Rory and I have acquired from just one year in the country is vast and amazes me. Rory learned how to build a cabin this year. Which then translated into drawing up plans for a chicken coop. Last Saturday I came home with the kids and as walked into the kitchen Rory showed us two jars of blackberry jam on the counter. He had picked the blackberries in our woods and made the jam and then canned it. I was stunned. And so inspired that I made homemade mayonnaise the next day just to keep up with my husband.

And even more than practical homesteading knowledge, I am learning about me. More specifically, my limits and where I can't pull it all off. I'm reading my Bible again. And God is being so gentle with me as he reminds me that when I am weak, he is strong. I am weary and heavy laden, but he promises rest. I feel jealous and hurt and sad, but he is forgiveness, healing and deep joy.

If you haven't cracked your Bible in a long time, go find it. There is nothing more precious in my life than my walk with Jesus.

A few nights ago Rory and I went for a walk down our road and there were so many fireflies in the ditches that it seemed like someone had strung twinkle lights up and down the road. Once I got up in the middle of the night to see if there was a car in our driveway with it's brights on. But it was the moon, leaving moon shadows all over our lawn. And if we go out on a clear night, with no moon, we can see every star in the sky. There are no city lights to interfere.

Those are the moments when I feel the most settled.

I feel really grateful to be living here. It has been an adjustment, but I know we have made the right decision. I love our farmstead and love our new life. And if you give us another year, I think we will feel fully at home.

neighborhood bbq

Last night we had thirty neighbors at our house. The stars aligned so that all but one household were in town! I spent the day cleaning out the garage, thinking we'd be in there because of the rain, but then it cleared up for a glorious evening.

It was awesome. Neighbors started coming at 5:15 and most left around 9. Ivar asked each person if they would like to see his little tomatoes and then gave garden tours. Everyone met the chickens and many got to see Rory's office in the woods.

We grilled burgers and hot dogs and a neighbor brought salmon and halibut he had just caught in Alaska a few weeks ago. Everyone else brought salads and bars and I was once again reminded how passionately I love a good picnic and potluck. Yum.

When I was cleaning the garage earlier in the day I was thinking, "it takes some doing to have so much company" and when I was cleaning up the kitchen late last night I was thinking, "but it is worth every minute to build that kind of community."

our forest room trail

We found a little trail just a few minutes from our house that leads to a waterfall. It is a beautiful walk and reminded me a lot of a good forest room adventure. Felt like our family was living out one of their days.

***

Today I told Rory the following story and he begged me to write it down. It has nothing to do with the pictures above...

I finally got around to calling my credit card company to tell them that I had changed addresses (one year later). I called, pushed all the right numbers to get to the correct menu, entered my sixteen digit account number and then heard Ivar screaming bloody murder out in the garage.

I ran to the garage to see him terrified and telling the chickens to get away. I told him they were coming to him because we had dried corn in his hand that he was feeding them. But he didn't get the cause and effect. He insisted I put him in the stroller that was collapsed next to the trash cans. So with my phone to my ear, credit card papers in my mouth, and a dried ear of corn in one hand, I tried to expand my heavy, uncooperative stroller.

And then I stepped in chicken poo. I felt it between my toes.

The corn slipped from my hand, the stroller wouldn't open, and just as a human voice began to speak my phone dropped from my ear splitting open and popping out the battery.

And that is why it has taken me a full 365 days to call the credit card company.

cock-loo-da-doo

Ivar will tell you that Roosters say, "Cock-loo-da-doo"

Roosters begin Cock-loo-da-doing as early as 4:12 in the morning.

But Roosters don't just Cock-loo-da-doo when the sun comes up. They do it all day long. Maybe even 7:12 pm. Just because they can. And truthfully, if you're not trying to sleep, it is sort of a cool background sound for our little farm.

Roosters are hard to photograph, as are all chickens. To get these shots I was laying in the grass, trying to coax them my way by calling their names, "Almonzo, over here. Look at me, Hamburger."

Roosters are so cool looking. I really like them. And their waddle is so wiggly. Their tail feathers are beautiful and their combs are awesome.

All that said, if you're looking for a rooster, ours our listed on craigslist. You know, for the people who need a 4:12 alarm clock. Or a chicken dinner.