Live Free

a drive out to hill country

A couple of weekends ago, we took a drive out to the hill country. We got a late start, so by the time we made some distance west, the afternoon sun was upon us. The landscape was glorious and literally glowed in an autumn halo of gold. The heavenly hues inspired Byron and I to let ourselves daydream about buying a bit o'land out there and creating our own little homestead - one day.

Living quietly on the prairie with the big Texas sky above us. There's an unexpected beauty out there that I never, ever dreamed of (or knew existed) as a child. God's country, they say...

However, neither one of us is sure that we would want to leave our sweet little town and our cozy house for that dream, though. Which says a lot about our contentedness right now, I think. We may not have acres of rolling hills, but we do live a pretty sweet existence right in the middle of town - white picket fence, swimming holes, chicken, gardens, and all.  

We stopped off at one of my favorite spots on earth. We walked around the grounds and for the short time we were there, we pretended it was our own slice of pastoral heaven. Beatrix and I got super excited at the sight of a baby calf named Daisy. Turns out, we met her mama, Buttercup, a year and half before when she was just born, as well. Cows sure do grow up fast. While I was moseying about the property, checking out the gardens and the kitchen, Byron and Beatrix ended up back near Daisy.

Byron said that Beatrix called her name and Daisy came running up to Beatrix. She rubbed and rubbed her little head and Daisy licked Beatrix's hands and fingers. Daisy stumped her back hoof in a playful manner and wagged her tail like a puppy. The two played with each other for ten minutes or so.

When it was time to leave, we began to walk around her fenced area to return to our car.  Along the way, Beatrix would look back at Daisy and Daisy would then come running up to her looking to play and nudge Beatrix again.

It was so adorable. We didn't want to leave her. What a sweet, sweet calf she was. 

week of Thanksgiving in photos

On Thanksgiving Day, Beatrix led our family in the blessing before the meal. It went like this: 

We are thankful for our food.

For rest and home and all things good.

For wind and rain and sun above.

But most of all, for those we love.

So much can be said in so few words.

I'm very grateful for this simple, good life we are carving out for ourselves. 

::Photos::

1. Tuesday evening lantern walk.  2. the opening of a milkweed seedpod and her dirty, scratched up (well-used) hands.  3. leaves for our gratitude tree that she and I made.  4. our Thanksgiving Monarch.  5. Thanksgiving morning in the kitchen.  5. we tried to watch "the parade", but none of us were in to it.  6. pretty bird.  7. we ate on the porch. 8. us.  9. coffee with dessert. 10.  evening walk through the park.  11. first batch of laundry on the new clothesline. 

good for at home

Last week, Byron handed down two shrunken wool sweaters to me. I immediately tried the camel colored one on because I had coveted it for so long. It was still oversized for me, but I rolled up the sleeves and tried to poof the shoulders down just a bit. He said, "Eh, it will be good for at home." I looked at him, and responded, "Well, that's great, because I'm always at home." And it's true. 

For six months now, he and I have shared one car. Most days, Bea and I are on foot or bike. She and I can easily go through the entire week without sticking our toes into the car. It feels incredible to live in a community where this is truly possible. We feel connected to the small businesses, to the parks, libraries, and our neighbors in ways we never felt while living in the big city. It's exciting to be a part of a community that is coming into its own. I can imagine our future here. Bea's little group of buddies could very well be the friends she grows up with. She's picking up a second language because she spends so much time with our neighbors next door... I love the diversity and the wholesomeness of our town. One day in years to come, these tree-lined streets, our town square, the omnipresnet pecan and burr oak trees, the limestone cliffs along our river could very well be the images she pictures when someone asks her about her 'home'. And to me there's something magical and sweet about it all. 

Bea and I have such a lovely little rhythm these days. We bake on Mondays. We meet with our friends (at our home) on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. On Friday, we either visit the library or explore at the river. We all love the weekends because those are family days. Finally, our days feel most authentically slow and meaningful. Now, if there was only a way for Byron to earn a living at home. 

For us, home is the space where we all truly thrive. Tending to our mini-homestead, spending time together involved in meaningful interactions, sharing our meals together morning, noon, and night, brings the most joy and contentment to our days. I think it must be because the work we do here involves both the head and the heart. When those two work together, how can it be otherwise? 

 

That Stubborn Thing



I have always believed that hope is that stubborn thing inside us that insists, despite all the evidence to the contrary, that something better awaits us so long as we have the courage to keep reaching, to keep working, to keep fighting. -- President Barack Obama

Over the last couple of months, which have perhaps, culminated from the last couple of years or the last decade and more that we've been together, we've been having these conversations with each other -- Byron and I. Not always particularly easy conversations, but necessary if we are to grow together in the ways we've always imaganined. The conversations have to do with purpose, service and duty. With striving to be more giving and forgiving to each other, to our daughter, and to the world at large. With contemplating the larger meaning beyond what serves our little family in this place and time. Stretching ourselves beyond our confort zones and knowing that the tight feeling of being stretched is probably a very necessary one if we are to evolve. Big wonderings. Big ambitions. There are pieces of us that crave to do big things. Big. Great. Things. 

We know this about ourselves: We are blessed and we are earnest. We are hardworking, honest and truthful, mostly. We are bountiful in flaws and mistakes. We try our best to live by the mantra of doing onto others as we have them do onto us. It's simple, but it's hard. And neither one of us wants to merely sit back and watch the wheels go around and around. In some manner, we want our hands to contribute to the momentum. We are ripe to give back and to make our days count.

The role of citizen in our democracy does not end with your vote. America's never been about what can be done for us. It's about what can be done by us together through the hard and frustrating, but necessary work of self-government. That's the principle we were founded on. -- President Barack Obama

We can do this important work in countless small ways each and every day. I can model my enthusiams for a seed sprouting to my young daughter. I can make sure that I always offer a warm smile to the cashier at the grocery store. I can wash and reuse my ziplock bags. I can vow to eat out less and instead nurture my family with the comfort of a home-cooked meal. I can delight in the sounds and scents of autumen. Leaves crunching below my feet coupled with the smokey, spicey aromas of nature's last hurrah before winter. All day, each day, we make little choices that have the power to stack one on top of the other. I want my stack high full of meaningful, helpful, choices so that when my daughter becomes old enough to go forth on her own, her foundation will be so strong and so certain. That etched in her bones and whispered into her soul she'll know decency, acceptance, tolerance, and hardwork. I can only hope that these virtues guide her in her decisions and her choices so that she too has the great opportunity to discover her own way to contribute to this great, big beautiful world.

Afterall, I'm convinced that there's a Miss Rumphius in all of us.  

"That is all very well, little Alice," said her grandfather, "but there is a third thing you must do." 

"What is that?" asked Alice.

"You must do something to make the world more beautiful," said her grandfather. 

 

 

 

She was a chick.

I suppose I can't let Halloween go by undocumented on the blog. Oh, it was a good one, probably one of our best so far. Though, we've only have a few to compare it to. 

For awhile, Beatrix said she wanted to be ladybug. Then it was sunflower. About a week before Halloween she declared with some finality in her tone that no, neither of those would do. She was going to be a chick. A yellow chick. 

Okey dokie. I was in the weeds with school and other life busyness stuff and doubted when I'd have time to make a chick costume. I was secretely wishing we could by-pass the whole Halloween ordeal. It's my least favorite holiday, afterall. Ah...what does that say about me?? That I'm stodgy and no fun at all!!! Eh...

I finally got the chance to think about her costume the day before Halloween. It took an afternoon to sew it up. And she was so happy about it. She stayed with me in the sewing room to help me the entire time. In the weeks prior to Halloween, she'd been reminding me "Mama, you haven't been sewing anything lately. Maybe you can start working on my costume?" I love how her mind works. That Mama makes my costume. That girl, she has a simple life. As quick and savy as she seems to me at times, her world is quite protected and so very safe. 

We trick or treated on Main Street with good friends and their little ones. Big, old houses, decorated in spiderwebs and pumpkins. Beatrix walked ahead of us, with such confidence and independence. She didn't need to hold my hand. I didn't even have to walk up the sidewalks with her. For the most part, Byron and I enjoyed visiting with our friends and watching over her from a distance.

We walked home just as the sun was setting and she was sound asleep by her usual bedtime. And that was Halloween 2012. 

 

these days...

I'm here at the coffee shop with a pen and a notepad. We are aiming to have Friday night as my night. Time to plan for school, read, or write for pleasure. I've been sorely missing alone time - in which no multitasking is asked of me - lately. And I feel so guilty for admitting that because I know this desire only exemplifies my priviledged status. My mom certainly never had "alone time" raising us six children on her own. She was breadwinner, mother, father, cook, housekeeper, financial manager, etc. all rolled into five feet and a hundred pounds. 

Some days I write post after post in my head as I go about my days of tending and caring for Beatrix and our little home. Mothering... what a job. That girl can make my heart swell with astonishment, pride, and joy just as quickly as her little being can trigger frustration and bewilderment. I try to take plenty of notes on the former and forget rather quickly the latter. 

Raising my exuberant little girl has me continuously questioning and refining my reactions and interactions with her. I've come to the conclusion that I can never have too much zen inspiration at hand. 

Overall, though, life is good. We are healthy, busy, somewhat tired, and a most-of-the-time happy little family.

October, my favorite month of the year, flew by, once again. It's popularity, I believe will be its doom in my opinion. Dare I say that it was almost too full to enjoy ~ or at least, to full to savor.

It was a month full of friends, weddings, and festivals. A whole lot of fun. It's left me feeling over-stimulated and eager to burrow myself into our quiet homelife for the remaining holiday season. I guess that's the harvest season for you though - a great big, noisy, exhale before the quiet inhale of winter.