Live Free

swapping, hatching, and the daffodils look lovely today

on saturday morning i took my little box of swap goodies to the post office to mail to my swap partner. i sent her a jar of body butter, salsa, a bar of lavender soap, a paper star, two beeswax candles, and a jar of peach preserves.  the postman said she would receive the package today. i hope she likes everything!  

in other news, three weeks ago, our extension agency delivered an incubator and a dozen of eggs to hatch. well, last year i tried this project twice with no luck at all. so, this year, i gladly took the project on, but kept my guard up on it actually being a success. i kept the temperature steady by placing large stones in the incubator to help hold the heat at a consistent temperature, and i kept wet sponges and a wet cloth to help hold the humidity around 60%. i turned the eggs three times a day (and did not let little hands do it, unlike last year).  but still, i was skeptical the whole entire time. well, as unattached as i was to the eggs hatching, we woke up this morning to an incubator of cheeping eggs! 

our original plan of taking a field trip to the natural history museum was chucked in favor of inviting our school friends over to watch with awe these little feathered friends peck their way out of their shells. they hung around until lunchtime with no actual witnessing of the hatch.  but soon after everyone went home, our first chick hatched. the others are still working on it. it's so cute. bea has named the first chick julie. julie cheeps loudly when we walk away from the incubator. i think bea and i have imprinted on her! 

and...daffodils are blooming. i have just a few planted around a tree on the corner of our lot. daffodils make me so happy. they last for what seems just a few hours here in texas before they wilt away in the heat. but still, they are just pure gorgeousness in the meantime. 

and that's a wrap for this monday. pretty exciting. between all of this happy stuff, we squeezed in a vet visit for pebbles (altercation with a racoon last week), and dealt with some very strong emotions. 

xo,

nichole

Ye Old Blog

Beatrix is napping right now. I can't believe it!! Blogging in the daytime is my absolute favorite. It's probably what I miss the most since the napping era ended about a year ago. The opportunity to write. For the life of me, I just can't compose a decent sentence at night. Much less a whole post which means anything to anyone.

This poor space. It's so haphazard and non-traditional, I'd say, as far as blogs go. I was never one to offer tutorials or recipes, advice and tips on this, that, or the other. It's just not my thing, though, I'm grateful for everyone else who does it. I'm most definitely not a technical writer and I'm okay with that. I have the most fun here at Live Free when I have the chance to blabber on about the experiences and emotions of daily life. At my best, I feel most authentic when I'm able to thread words into thoughts that somehow attempt to upturn a hidden connection amongst us all ~ as people, as mothers, as teachers, or daughters. Whoever we may be. I firmly beleive, that at our core, we are always more alike than we are different. 

Sometimes, as I'm hanging out laundry, or organizing an art shelf, or watching my little one dance to The Nutcracker one more time, thoughts spill out of me into the atmosphere, disapating as quickly as they arrived. Oftentimes, even I doubt their true existence. Other times, I can't for the life of me think of one single aspect of my daily life worth writing about. Not that my life is unworthy. Not at all. It's just that these days are filled with the upkeep of the mundane. My days hum to the tune of ordinary. Another sinkful of dishes. A breakfast of eggs and bacon. A walk through the neighborhood. Another nature hike. Time to tidy up. P,b and j for lunch. Apples for tea. Beans and rice at dinnertime. And in between all of that, there are funny, little conversations, there's grocery shopping, there's an email returned here and there. There are library books to return. Bills to pay. There's an Instagram photo of another cup of coffee, or a blooming something, or folded laundry, or a playing little one, etc.

Plain and simple moments. 

I'm at that point in my life where I pretty much have it figured out that I won't be remembered as a transforational figure to anything of great importance or to anyone beyond my closest of friends and family. Those few know my heart and know how hard I work at being just a tad bit beyond mediocre. I'm not alone, I'm just common. Maybe I've reached my greatest potential, right here, right now. If I sitting here wondering, perhaps I still have a ways more to go. We can always dream. 

But darn it, as long as there is a kid sharing this roof with me, one thing will always be certain: when the house is quiet and still in the daytime, I'm gonna keep trying to write. 

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. 

 

saturday evening post

 

 

Oh, here I am, making my way to the surface from the rabbit hole that is Pinterest.  I wanted to share this little video on Rebecca Rebouche and her work as an artist. The colors, the landscape, and the lighting of this video have me swooning and craving the deep, luscious, deciduous woods - and one of her beautiful paintings for my wall...

I'm just smitten with her work. I love how she tosses images of ordinary objects into woodland scenes. Like in this painting.  And I LOVE  that she is from my home state of Louisiana. Yeah!!  That place is just drenched with creative spirits. I feel so ordinary to admit this, but I discovered her through Anthropologie. What a mainstream consumer I can be, eh? Last year Anthropologie released a heart-stopping (at least to me) dinnerware collection that I just about cried for everytime I walked into a store. This summer, I found only salad plates discounted by 60%. I snagged several. And we eat on them every single day. And it makes me very, very, very, happy.  So yes, I wasn't able to get the entire set, but I got some. 

Like the old Stones song goes:

You don't always get what you want, you get what you need.

Well, I know I didn't need any of those plates at all, but you get the message.  

Parts of a Flower

It is not half so important to know as to feel. -- Rachel Carson

The children and I disected tulips recently to get a better look at the parts of the flower. It was fun to share that flowers have both male and female parts. And that before there are seeds, there are eggs that need to be fertlized by pollen. It was a simple lesson. We focused on the three most obvious parts of the flower: petal, pistol, and stamens. 

Life is amazing. The children drink in this information with such wonder and respect for the natural world. I love the idea that these experiences of young childhood are imprinted into their being. That these moments of understanding somehow, effortlessly and seamlessly, become who they are. At least, I hope this is the case. 

I hope that by guiding Beatrix, listening to her, and allowing her time to wonder and discover within her world, she'll somehow be more "one with it". As a young child of the 80's growing up in a single parent household, I can't say that my inherent wonder, my awe of the world was necessarily nourished or encouraged. And I've struggled, I think, with that to find words to describe my what my heart and my soul know to be true, but which my experiences do not necessarily match up to or have the capacity to articulate. It's hard to explain (of course), but I sometimes walk around with the constant feeling that what I want to express is at the tip of my tongue. So close, yet so far. 

 - - -

Well, quite honestly, I meant to post this photo of a sunflower and say, "Wow, it's mind boggling that a sunflower is actually a cluster of hundreds of tiny flowers? Look at all those pistols and stamens! I had a really fun time disecting flowers with the children at school this week!"  

I guess I had a little more to say than I realized. 

snip, snip

Well, today, I finally splurged and took Beatrix to get her first real haircut. That cute little bob of hers has been gradually getting harder and harder for mama to maintain. She's got thick hair! Now that I sit here and type about it, it's been close to year that I've known that my trimming skills could not keep up and that she really needed a cut by someone who made a living doing it...

Poor Beatrix, what a deprived little girl she is. Wink, wink, nod, nod. 

She held the steering wheel of her taxi cab chair with a white knuckled grasp and tried desparetly to focus on the screen above her playing Shrek. She's never seen it before. She did not seem amused. I think her mind was elsewhere.

She kept still and got an even cut. It's a little shorter in the back than we were all anticipating, but that had much to do with Beatrix's previous hairdresser's screw-ups.

Though, quite honestly, I am now wondering about the legitimacy of the howls and yells I zone out to each day when I brush her hair. Yes, I am gentle and yes, we use detangler and yes, I start from the bottom. Still, there can be lots of tears and noise. Yet today, she did not flinch once when the hairdresser was combing out knots which leads me to one of two conclusions: she was either holding it together - freaking out on the inside, or knots really don't bother her.

That Beatrix, she is known for her drama - (and her cute do).

What's a cemetery?

We found ourselves discovering a very old cemetary on the back side of town on our evening walk tonight. 

Bea: What's a cemetary?

Byron: It's a place where people rest once they have died.

Bea: We, you, me, and mommy are going to die. Then we will move to the cemetary.

Me: One day. Not now. Not for a very long time.

Bea: Will we go back to our house after that?

Me: No, we'll turn back to soil. 

Bea: Like plants. Like our compost.

Byron and Me: (Nodding) Yes, pretty much like that. Maybe we will become part of a beautiful garden.

Bea: I don't want to die. 

Me: I don't want to either. Some people think that inside of our bodies is something called a 'soul'. A soul is the part of us that never dies. It's always here. Only our bodies die. Our souls will always be together. 

Bea: In our house. 

Me: Yep.

And that's life with a three year old. So perfectly curious and fearless. So wonderfully open and peaceful. So effortlessly connected to it all. It's as if part of her soul still resides in the heavens above. She humbles me over and over. There are no words to describe the awe and gratitude I feel for being one of the people who gets to have these kinds of conversations with this incredible person. 

 

 

simplicity, work, and enjoyment

 

 

I saw this video a few days ago. I keep thinking about Maia. Such a beautiful lady. Living a life so full of grace - even at 95 years old. Please watch it.

She says the key to a long life is simplicity, work, and enjoyment. That's it. Something to really ponder.  

Happy Saturday to you all!

Highway Thoughts

What will sustain us through the winter?
Where did last years lessons go?
Walk me out into the rain and snow
I dream a highway back to you.

                 -Gillian Welch

If I'm lucky, Beatrix dozes off on the drive back home from school each day. Treating me to thirty miles of afternoon silence. Thirty miles of thoughts free to flow. Sometimes those thoughts are only lists created and categorized for the different facets of my days. We all have our own versions of them: the grocery lists, bills to pay, people to call, planning for school, thoughts on specific children at school, or my own little one.

Sometimes it's thirty miles for my mind to wonder. Thirty miles for my dreams to peak through the tangible and immediate. Beyond the mundane.

The highway to home is ordinary and, I dare say, hollow. Big box store after box store, strip mall after strip mall, it's easy to lose oneself in its emptiness. Most of the time the radio is off, with the only sound coming from the hum of fellow commuters, trucks, or travelers heading somewhere. 

Instead of the traffic hum, today, I chose music. An old Gillian Welch album. My favorite track is the last one: I Dream A Highway. 14 minutes of a longing, poetic, beauty of a tune. 

I thought of the empty roads to West Texas and beyond. I thought of the early years of Byron and me. Holding hands while bike riding on humid summer nights, wondering around the streets of Paris, young, exuberant, and all by myself. I dream of Norweigan forest and mountain top views, subways and skyscrappers. My wanderlust soul is always with me.

And then, I hear "Mommy, I want you to sleep with me because I love you." Or something in that vein.

I'm back, here. In this life, in this place, in this time. Playing this role of wife and mother to the best of my ability. Loving this life, cherishing this life, I barely ever imaganined exisisted. Sometimes life really does feel like there is no beginning or end, just a tumbling circle of dreams, of here, of then, of one day.   

 

 

ho hum

I don't have much to share right now, but I thought I'd pop in just to say hi! Tomorrow is Friday and I'm happy about that. We had a sweet week at school, but I'm looking forward to not rushing Bea and I out the door by 7:15. After three days of that each week, we require a four day break to recharge for the next week's round. 

Still, I don't mean to moan about our schedule. The work away from home helps to provide some structure for us, which I need. Without it, I'm afraid way too many days would drift by without my getting out of jammies. And for me, that just doesn't feel healthy. The part-time kick out of the door is a fair compromise.

I've been thinking about the impending gardening season. It will be here before we know it. I'm excited to give it a go in our new space. Byron is getting geared up to build a few beds. I hope, hope, hope that this year is NOTHING like last year (in the way of precipitation and heat). Last summer was dreadfully hot and dry.

We need to install rain barrels stat. But that's easier said than done. First we need gutters or at least partial gutters. Oh...Byron and his never ending list of honey do's. Weekends are never long enough. Right now, our method of harvesting water consists of leaving buckets out in the yard...I have a strong suspicion we might continue to roll like that for quite awhile - at least this first year here. 

I'm also thinking about ways in which to organize our outdoor space. A few weeks ago, I made a trip out to my greatest source of gardening inspiration, The Natural Gardener. It never fails to inspire - never! And so, I have lofty dreams of having a wonderful children's outdoor space, different types of trees, (some that produce fruit and nuts, some that offer beautiful spring and fall color, all drought tolerant and native), meandering pathways adorned with herbs, native grasses and wildflowers, garden beds in the front yard, my chickens, of course, in the backyard, berry picking along the fence line, bees...all on 1/4 of an acre....We'll see. 

On to another topic all together different from urban homesteading: I don't watch alot of television but every now and then I fall in love with a series. I've been enjoying this PBS series so very much. What fun it is to get lost in an on-going story line. I must admit, it's been a very long dry spell over here ever since Mad Men vanished and never returned.