Live Free

Everyday Magic

"We need beauty to touch us as deeply as we need love. Beauty is not a luxury, an accidental experience that we happen to have if we are lucky. Beauty dwells at the heart of life."  John O'Donahue

Every day feels magical here. Yesterday, we woke  after a long day and night of hardy, steady rain, to sunshine and absolutely brilliant colors in the forest. The air was crisp and hovering right around freezing.  Giddy about it all, the colors, the cool temperatures, we bundled up and headed up the ridge behind our house and into the forest.  Today was the first day we hiked to the tippy top. It's quite steep and crawling is pretty much what I had to do in some places.  Once on the ridge, there is a wide trail that winds through woods and meadows.  At one point I turned around gasped and giggled out loud. What I saw was a clear view of those magnificent mountains facing my back. Watching over me, in a way.  Of course, the photo (#6) does little justice to capture my view because in real life those mountains are endless.  

How did we get HERE? What did we do to deserve this? WHO gets to do life here?  I very often doubted that it would be us.  Even though Thoreau's quote, "Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you imagined," stayed ever present to my eyes via a cheapo refrigerator magnet for the past 15 years, many days went by where Byron and I both resigned that we didn't have what it took to live out the dreams.  After all, there was always the idea that we had too much of this, noot enough of that.  What if this? What about that? You know those thoughts and questions, right?  I'm so glad that more often than not, we didn't let the doubt talk us out of believing in our dreams. 

Amongst ancient mountains that roll on and on for as far as the eye can see, sparkling rivers, and forest thick with diversity. I am grateful for every moment of it.  As the world appears to crumble upon unrest on so many levels, to have this opportunity to see a bit of it unspoiled feels like the greatest gift of hope.  All of life is worth cherishing. 

On Showing Up.

 

 "When the student is willing, the teacher appears, spiritual sages tell us.  Another way to put it is that when we are willing to be taught, we become teachable.  We always move ahead in our art when we open our heart to willingness. In order to do something well, we must first be willing to do it badly.  We must have the humility to be once again a beginner, to admit what we don't know and admit that we wish to know more." 

                                                                                 Julia Cameron, The Artist's Way Everday: A Year of Creative Living

I want to try to start showing up here more.  Many days, I think about coming to this blog, but I don't actually do it. I tell myself that my thoughts are too unorganized and that I don't have the mental energy to make sense of them through writing, or at least, writing that is fit for other's to read. That it's too late in the evening. That I need to go to bed. That if I plan to rise early, I'll inevitably wake her too. That I'm out of practice. That I struggle with which to share here. And all of those reasons are truthful. I do.  They are. I am.  

But still....wanting to write it, this life, these happenings, down is a cathartic release, even if it is just part of my story.   Most often, difficult in the moment, but necessary. It feels good show up. 

I want to write about some new projects on the burner. How I pulled up 90% of my garden weeks ago.  How we still dream of a little chunk of land somewhere in the mountains. How honored I am to be my girl's mother. That she is learning to knit and to read and goes to sleep at night only after she's done a bit of both.  How much I am enjoying tuning into her, homeschooling, and getting a  second chance at childhood. That second childhood is a big one! 

Equal parts determined, pushy, passive, frustrated, and calm, I struggle to find the peaceful path that is mine and mine alone.  Comparing myself to no one, yet knowing when to ease up and put force on the accelerator that drives me.  

 

With Love and Gratitude

 

The Messenger 

My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird—
equal seekers of sweetness.
Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.
Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.

Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still half-perfect? Let me
keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,

which is mostly standing still and learning to be
astonished.
The phoebe, the delphinium.
The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.
Which is mostly rejoicing, since all the ingredients are here,

which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart
and these body-clothes,
a mouth with which to give shouts of joy
to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,
telling them all, over and over, how it is
that we live forever.

                                            ---Mary Oliver--

These are my little glimpses from my Thanksgiving week. It was beautiful. So beautiful. My brother and his sweet family, my mom, and Byron's mom and dad were all here. 

I never wrote about it in this place, but my mom overcame a really big medical condition this year that had, most likely, been brewing for ages. I was shaken considerably. Terrified really. We all were.  That little, short woman - barely five feet tall -- our breadwinner, mama, housekeeper, bus driver, father, night time storyteller, taxi, house chef, and on and on of the roles a single mother must take on to insure her babies survive -- is so strong.  She is one my few great teachers. Probably my greatest. Not in scientific facts and such, but in the spiritual way. Gratitude for the here and now. For family. For health. For work. For the chance to be here. That is what she has always tried to emphasize while she was raising the six of us and still today. 

Mom came out on the other side of her illness stronger than ever and as I quietly watch her in the everyday, I am astonished by her strenghth and her spirit. And just so grateful that we get to have her in our lives today.

Happy, happy Thanksgiving! 

 

onwards.

Autumn is on its slow way. I need her right now. August arrived with a bang, leaving me parched. September has been more of the same though there was a hint of change this past Saturday. Yes, I even wore socks (wool ones, I know) and had a cup of hot chai. I felt alive again! 

I've been amping up the self-care routine because it's been a humdinger of a year, emotionally and mentally speaking. Fear can conjure up the most dreadful feelings of paralysis. And I'm so done with all of it.  Life is too short. 

My simple self-care regime is as follows:

1)evening walk every other night. (Byron and I take turns doing bedtime with Bea). 

2)15 minutes of yoga everyday. 

3)handwork to fend off the idle hands/must check Facebook syndrome. Right now, I'm making Alicia Paulsons's cute little bunny. 

4)audiobooks. Although many people love Amazon's Audible, I'm going ole school for now by borrowing Bea's walkman and making use of the local library's selection. I'm pretty sure there are enough classics that I haven't read to keep me occupied for a long time.  Right now, I'm listening to Little Women. Marme is such an inspiration.

5)planning mini-vacations here and there. About a year ago, I created a small savings plan for travel. Saving a small bit of change every month for travelling purposes has been a game changer. We don't save enough to be able to afford  big trips. Airfare is pretty much out of the question, but road trips and camping are totally doable. Next month we have two excursions planned: camping on the beach and a road trip to New Mexico which involves a yurt, remote mountains, and a big ole New Mexico sky!  Travelling is fuel for my soul!! 

6)I have a few more items on my to-do list that I want to make a conscience effort to check off. A mish-mash of items to be sure... like learning how to use video and wireless conectivity on my camera, how to knit a cowl, and getting current with our family photo album situation.  Oh, I also want to do more photography work and that might mean I go out on my own or search for a mentor. Either way, it feels daunting but I know I need to move forward on that big important item. 

I'm tired of feeling like I am only treading water. I am needing to be more purposeful and mindful of my everyday living. I want to take advantage of my time here! 

Alright, I've had writer's block for so very long now and though this post isn't really me getting down to the nitty gritty of it all, it's a start. 

xo,

Nichole

the shift

The shift is upon us. The one that carries us from the glory, hazy daze of summer to the beginnings of a vibrant new school year. As if flipping the calendar page to August last week wasn't enough of a gentle nudge, I am finding (with giddiness and anticipation) that the light does not lie. Its glow is becoming warmer by the day. 

We've had a really good summer ride. So good. 

Just in the last couple of weeks...

The young one got swimming underwater. She's there. And now as if the flood gates have opened, there is an explosion of sorts into other little things she's long been on the cusp of. 

I've been staying up way too late geeking out on youtube and Clickinmoms as I attempt to learn more about the in's and out's of photography beyong, shutter speed, aperture, and ISO. 

Field trips are being planned and organized. 

New classroom materials suitable for kindergartners (my baby and her little friends are going to be kinders this year!!) are being created and laminated. 

School supplies are stacking up into pretty little piles of all things fresh and bright.

Backyard improvements are almost a reality. So close. 

Summertime to-do list are satisfyingly  and nearly all checked off. 

Fall camping trip plans are making there way into conversations at dinner time. 

Daydreams of crisp air, wood smoke, autumn gatherings, fields of goldenrod and gulf mulhy seed blooms tumble through my days. I can not fend them off. 

Cute conversations of a maybe baby at some point in our upcoming school year. Will we blessed during the autumn, winter, or spring? Any season will do!  

Is August a month of transition for you? In what ways are your days shifting?

XO,

Nichole

 

 

 

longtime sun

It's been an intense 5 + months.  Emotions and energy have been spread thin. I think about this space daily, but I have been unable to find the inspiration to write about the many small moments of love and light that carry us through our days.

I am hopeful. Summer is a coming. Life is settling back down. I'm drinking lots of water and trying to remember to breathe deeply. So, I have that going for me. And seriously. I (we) have a lot going for us. Everything is going to be okay. 

We all go through prickly, rough patches. Thank goodness. It sure does make the wildflower meadows all the more full of an otherworldly beauty.  

For the past few weeks, Bea and I have adored singing this celtic blessing: 

May the longtime sun shine upon you.

All love surround you.

And the pure light within you guide your way on. 

Guide your way on. 

 

Morning time, a home full of the aroma of percolating coffee, the sunshine pouring down onto the kitchen table. I liken it to being under the perfect combination of a heavy quilt and wool blanket in January. 

This was school picture day and she was my early morning location scout assistant. Hello morning sunshine, dewy grass, and sparkly five year old. I think I love you. 

Last month, a dear friend gifted us a lovely set of pray flags. I love to watch them blow in the wind and I can imagine all the prayers, hopes, and good intentions flowing out into the world. They are a constant reminder for me to pause and breathe. 

This week, we dyed play silks with Kool-Aid.  Very fun and easy.  The colors were stunning! 

Remember the chicks we hatched in February? Here they are, all grown up. They should start laying in a month or so!  I'm thrilled. Our four older girls are up on in age (4 years old) and have really slowed down in egg production.  And yes, that's my beehive! I brough our nuc of bees home last Friday. I think everything is going okay in there.  When I hived them, I was expecting the queen to be in the frames with the others, but she was in a cage.  It took a couple of days and some research but I finally got her out of her cage last Monday. I checked on them yesterday and was happy to see some bee larva.  We'll see. 

On Fridays we drive into the big city.  Lately we've been thoroughly enjoying the nature center there. Thankfully, the weather is still mostly quite pleasant. What a treat it is to spend hours outdoors, hopping from stone to stone or dangling toes and feet in flowing water. Actually, today we were chased out of the water by a six foot water snake!! Eek! Yikes! The snake's appearance did help to curate the easiest transition Bea has ever made! She made a beeline for her sandals and the exit. 

On the way to and from Austin today, we listened to Sarah, Plain and Tall,  Skylark, and some of Caleb's Story.  We were both hooked and really enjoyed the books! Beautiful imagery and writing. I'd never read any of Patricia MacLachlan's work and was swept away into the lives of Anna and Caleb and their life on the prairie. When we got home, Bea finished listening to Caleb's Story while Byron and I spent some time catching up on the day's events. 

It's dewberry season in our parts. These last 8 photos were taken at a preserve near our house. I love this place so much. It's part prairie, part orchard, part wilderness, part fresh flowing springs. And it's all parts quiet, peaceful, and enchanting! 

And that, my friends, is some of what's been happening in our world.  

xo,

Nichole

Redemption

It turns out that being nearly five years old makes for a touch and go kind of season in our home.  My mama heart is aching with a familiar pang for the blinding unknown of what's next on this parenting journey.  In one hand, she can't stop herself from wanting to help manage and lead with the proficieny being years beyond her. And in the other hand, she is still very much quite the little girl and is still learning to manage her own strong emotions --  all while slowly having the veil of innocence lifted from her view.   She is discovering that all of us living here on this great big planet are,  in fact, not on the same page and that there are a thousand shades of gray.  Absolutes rarely exist.  I can only imagine that after a lifetime of absorbing the values of mommy and daddy (the two people that epitomize safety and nurturance), to be made aware of such complexities must feel so confusing and disheartening to a nearly five year old. 

These are stormy days.  Tantrums, yelling, whining, trouble with peers.  We are wading through the thick and murky waters of it all and we are mostly exhausted and feeling very tender.  

Though with my fare share of these cycles under my belt now, I know this too shall past. She is not done.  And neither am I, for that matter.  Grace will find us both . I'll keep trying to be the mommy she deserves.   The one that remembers to parent from the place of love and compassion. To say what I see.  To give horse rides through the hoouse and to play fetch with my human child/puppy every single day. To be the model of calm and to do my best to save my own tantrums for moments behind a locked bathroom door.   To chuck the to-do list more often than not.  And to remember that the really ugly, really unmentionable, unsavory moments,  those are the saddest cries for help. Listen carefully to those.  

Yesterday was one of those days. It'd been months since I'd felt so rattled by her behavior. I was beyond frustrated. I was just sad. And I knew she had to be feeling awful inside as well. After her quiet time, which she clings to lately (to sort through the difficulties of her days, I'm guessing) I asked her if she wanted to go to our favorite park. "We can climb the tree, pack a picnic, and just enjoy the fresh air." I was expecting her to say no because that's her automatic response my suggestions these days. But instead, she let out a big sigh and said, "Yeah, let's go." 

It was a perfect early spring afternoon. We were both in such dire need. We climbed our favorite climbing tree.  We snacked. We played Ma and Laura. We made a fairy house. But most importantly, we  just enjoyed each other -- amongst swaying wild grasses, red tail hawks soaring, pecan trees, and springs.  "It's so beautiful here mom. It's own little special spot."  Yes, it was the redemption we both longed for. 

baby, it's cold outside

 

brrr...it's 25 degrees outside right now. we plan on going to the winter fair at the waldorf school later on. it should be a balmy 27 degrees by then. the little house is having serious issues keeping warm. i wanted to blog last night but this back bedroom was too dang cold -- like being outside -- cold. we have insulation in the walls and in the attic (a lot up there), and a heat pump for heat (are those as heavy duty as a furnace? i googled last night because i was wondering what it meant when your thermostat read "auxilliary heat"). as usual, the google answers were confusing and after a few minutes, i just shut the window on that search. the floors are freezing (pier and beam), and those windows, well they are a lost cause, i suppose. i'm not excited to see our energy bill for this month. 

anyhoo. it'll warm up. this is texas afterall. in the meantime, i'm loving the for real opportunity to get cozy. it's non stop candles, wool, and tea around here. 

all of this cold weather had me brainstorming a way to get a woodstove into our house. and i finally found a rather obvious solution! if byron could make a built in bookshelf (ceiling to floor -- serious endeavor -- is there a way NOT to run out of bookshelf space?) in our hallway, we could clear a corner in our living room  and place it there. 

but you know, it's still hard to justify. the day before this cold snap it was 80 degrees. winters are all over the place over here. 

well, i guess that's all of my saturday morning rambling i have for now. 

here's a few photos from the past week. 

okay, now, that i posted these photos, i remember i have more to say about the holdiays and such.

we've been having a little advent magic around. no calendar, just little cards that bea finds laying around the house - inspiration from her beloved martin and sylvie from sparkle stories.  one card for each day. so far, we've decorated the tree, have had hot cocoa in our santa mugs, donated a toy and a jacket to those in need, celebrated st. nicholas day, attended the advent choral concert at the univeristy in our town...oh, and she got a new pair of puppy dog slippers. 

i'm doing my best to keep the days low key. we are all so sensitive to hype around here. we hibernate at home as much as possible and get out only for fresh air, important errands, or very special events (which we keep to a minimum). bea has a nervous energy about her that i haven't seen in a long time. her play is rambunctious, loud, and unfocused. i'm trying to ride the wave with grace, but that try certainly is far from full proof. to ward off the craziness of what is easily an over the top time of year, i keep the candles burning, the mulling spices simmering, the sufjan stevens and elizabeth mitchell playing, and the lavendar baths a comin'. we'll find our sweet spot soon enough, i'm sure.  

overall, these days are sweet. i'm so glad i still blog because the other night, i found myself reading back in my archives of all the decembers i've been writing here. it was nice walk down memory lane. there were lots of little things i wrote about that i'd forgotten. bea is so big now. she is so not the little toddler with pitter patter footsteps. sigh. it goes by fast. in a few years from now, i know i will look back to now and think that she was still so little and pure. sometimes, it's hard to believe that the years are linear. wouldn't it be nice if we could somehow dangle our toes back and forth between past, present, and future. then again, perhaps that's the purpose of all this journaling and documenting. 

have a lovely weekend, dear friends. 

ps: any other typepad users having issues lately. i'm experiencing some snarkiness from my blog when i try to format or add links. 

 

little loves.

Just popping in with a little list of loves.

-- Dinnertime by candlelight with my people. Unity, love, warmth. And the fact that my timehop app had a photo of dinner by candlelight a year ago today. It's a rhythmic world we live in.

-- Flannel sheets. Sandwiching myself between them and my heavy winter quilt, then snuggling up with a book and tea. 

-- Along those lines, my flannel nightgown. Very Ma-ish. And very me. 

-- The light around town around 4pm these days. Glorious. Breathtaking. So ready for the little one's swim lessons to finish up tomorrow, so that we can take full advantage of this fleeting time. Rec center, we must go our separate ways. Our autumn afternoons call for us. 

-- The Snow Child. More words on that maybe later. An enchanting and raw read. Thanks Amanda, Cory, and Amanda for the recommendation. 

-- This new Christmas album. Yep, I caved two days ago. What a sweet collection of holiday hymns. Can't get enough. Mary said to Joseph so meek and so mild, "Joseph gather me some cherries for I am with child."

-- Beginning to prepare for a sweet, little, Martinmas walk with good friends and children next week. 

-- Learning this new song with the children. And hearing Bea skip around the house singing it with all her heart. And then asking me to sing in a round with her. Swoon. My little one...oh, she is something to behold! I shall never tire of her innocent, happy, melodious voice. 

-- Bedtime. With the time change, sleep comes amazingly easy these days. Knock on wood. 

-- Friendships that grow up and old together. So grateful for the good, wise, and talented ones who surround and support me in my everyday. Thank you.

-- Gyo. This illustration makes me almost want to weep. 

 

What are you loving right now?

baby steps

"Every quiet step is thunder to beetle life underfoot, a tug of impalpable thread on the web pulling mate to mate and predator to prey, a beginning or an end. Every choice is a world made new for the chosen." Barbara Kingsolver, Prodigal Summer. 

I just finished this book last night. It was a summer re-read that I took in slowly and deliciously. The first time I read it was the summer of 2005. Byron and I had just completed a road trip move from Annapolis, Maryland to Austin, Texas. We didn't quite know how to process the Texas heat (even though we both grew up in the Deep South). We were living in the saddest, darkest, cave-like apartment in a complex on a major street in town. It was surrounded by gas stations and pawn shops and pay-day loan centers. I remember my heart feeling so heavy with regret for the life we left behind...a land full of summertime abundance of echniacea, black-eyed susans, yarrow, the brackish waters of the Chesapeake Bay, sweet colonial row houses, window boxes overflowing with petunias and pansies, and brick-paved streets.

What I remember most as being the highlight of my summer was Prodigal Summer and the apartment complex pool. Those two saved my sanity that summer. 

That was 8 years ago. Things - life - improved. The memory has a way of dulling our past. For better or worse. We adapted to our new life and even discovered endearing qualities to love about our new home. 

Fast forward to the present.

The grasses in the lot across the street from our house are seeding. Their unassuming whispy seed heads are just magical to me - especially in the morning light. I don't know enough about grasses to determine if these are native and beneficial or invasive and threatening. Whatever they are, they inspired me to dust off my camera, which has sat on my desk all summer, to try to capture their brave attempt at procreating during the most brutally hot and dry time of the year.    

Remember my post from a few weeks back? About how tired I was of trying to get it all right? I don't know what is going on with me? Maybe my whole being is leaning forward, forging through some sort of growth spurt. I can't really put it into words but my heart feels so tender and raw these days. Like I'm starting a brand new journey that I know nothing about. In order to survive, I must trim the fat of everything that leaves me scattered and distracted. Which means, I can't seem to surround myself with enough unconditional love and simple, yet meaningful interactions. 

A couple of weeks ago, I did something I've wanted to do for a really long time. I deactivated my Facebook account. I'm off. I know it sounds trivial... you know, getting off of Facebook. But it was an area of my life which did not serve me. Yes, on a superficial level, I love that I was able to keep in touch with friends near and far through quick and easy messages or updates. But for a while now, I've felt completely drained by the habit of being in contact so frequently with so many. And if I didn't respond quick enough or articulately enough, guilt and paranoia set in over how I was perceived by others (selfish, unappreciative, lazy, not witty enough -- nothing positive). Not to mention the constant bombardment of links to articles and studies to read. All of which left me so distracted, and at times, hardly in touch with myself and my own intution. 

So now, I am getting use to NOT KNOWING what the many people that I love and treasure are doing on a daily basis. I'm getting use to just wondering how they are ~ imagining what their own daily experiences may be like. And it feels good. Somehow, a lot more intimate and sincere. As if I am giving my heart a real opportunity to conciously think good thoughts about them. Instead of instantly knowing.  Sometimes I think what my spirit truly needs is an open and free opportunity to just wonder and not to know, to not seek the answer.   

I hope my disconnect eventually translates into more good ole fashion emails sent to friends. And who knows, I don't want to get too ambitious too quickly, but wow, wouldn't it be nice to get into a habit of writing an honest to goodness letter from time to time. Once upon a time, I use to love to write letters. As a child, my best friend and I would write letters to each in the summertime (even though we only lived 5 minutes away from each other). In college I'd write letters to my mom and grandma often and they did the same to me. One of my most treasured possessions is a rubbermaid storage container full of handwritten mementos from my past. 

So these days, I just find myself so desperate for alone time. Not from my family, per se, but from the outside world and things that don't feel me up. And yes, I know this blog is an outlet to the outside world, but it's different from the instant, constant noise of social media and iPhones. Blog posts can't happen unless I make an intentional effort to sit at my desk, put my fingers to the keyboard and write. And writing (even in my "dear diary" sort of way) always helps to restore some balance to my days. 

There you have it. Growing is all about taking baby steps, right? 

xo,

Nichole