Live Free

This Makes Sense

"We may not have wings or leaves, but we humans do have words.  Language is our gift and responsibility. I've come to think of writing as an act of reciprocity with the living land.  Words to remember old stories, words to tell new ones, stories that bring science and spirit back together to nurture our becoming people made of corn."  

I've slowly and deliciously made my way through a book of essays by Robin Wall Kimmerer, entitled Braiding Sweetgrass. I'm struggling with words to convey how meaningful her writing felt to me.  It is so beautiful and poignant and it put words to a language that my soul speaks but which I have such difficulty expressing. My book is earmarked in numerous places of passages that struck me as true and beautiful. I especially appreciated the one above as I've been pondering how to continue to write. Sometimes I feel so scared to write - of not having anything to say - of feeling so rusty and inarticulate that these written words do nothing to communicate all that is inside. Alas, fear is paralyzing, and I want to be done with it. So, as many times as I've said it before, I'll say it once more -  that my intention is to show up here. 

These last few months of uprooting and rerooting ourselves have been all sorts of exciting, confusing, blissful, and heart-wrenching.  However, little by little, day by day, our days here make sense.  I feel so much more grounded now that we are settled into our home.  Last week as I was trimming an invasive vine out of our meadow, I felt so much contentment tending the land, and doing my small part to show my gratitude for all the beauty and life Mother Earth gives.  This morning, as I raked ruts out of our driveway (a huge storm washed through us yesterday), I felt purpose caring for our homestead created by other's hands and hearts.  I feel incredibly honored to have inherited this place and I want to be a good steward to it. When I'm on the porch, mixing up herbal concoctions, or reading in the hammock, I feel peace. I think to myself, this makes sense.  This is the life I've longed for.  This is the way I've dreamed of spending my days. I am home.  

 

 

 

 

 

 When we moved from Texas to North Carolina we weren't quite sure what our future would look like. We planned to buy a few acres, build a yurt, tend a garden, and live happily ever after.  Instead, soon after arriving, we found a beautiful little homestead that we knew would suit us perfectly.  It's bizarre how life works out. It was last fall that we camped at a nearby campground to our homestead.  Originally, we had planned to camp further west in another town about an hour away. However, when we arrived at the first campground, we weren't thrilled by the grounds  (too close to town and lacking big woods).  So we cancelled our reservations, kept driving to another campsite that we had heard about from a friend as being pretty decent.  We called to confirm that they weren't booked up and, sure enough, they weren't.  We drove and drove up a winding and twisting road that circles around the mountain. We soon lost cell service and arrived at sunset.  The campsite turned out to be great.  Deeply wooded, plenty of trails and waterfalls.  I took the best nap during one of our afternoons there.  It was quiet and secluded (we were camping during the week and not over the weekend).  We really loved this particular area.

So, when we were looking for temporary living arrangements for the summer, we stumbled upon an RV pad which could be rented from an individual long term.  The RV pad was just a few miles down the road from where we camped last fall. During this time, we had also put in a contract on a small tract of land in another area west of where we were living in the RV.  The plan was still to build a yurt.  Then a couple of weeks after we'd been living in the RV, I saw a home listing on Facebook. I had seen this home before (months ago) but it was out of our price range.  However, the new price had been slashed as they divided the land to open it up to more buyers.  Out of curiosity, Bea and I drove out to the address and took a peak around the grounds near the driveway entrance. Immediately, my interest was peaked.  It was lovely from what I could see. Still, I didn't immediately mention it to Byron and it was a whole week before we actually made the move to see the property with an agent. 

It was love at first sight. Truly.  A storybook. Apple trees and blueberry bushes and blackberry brambles and wildflowers and a pond and fenced in garden and lovely outbuildings and a tree swing. A forest and spring water. The details were everything. And then we walked into the house. Hand built. Round. Solar powered. Just lovely in every way. It felt like a dream. This couldn't really be within our reach? But it was.  As if the universe paved the way for us to find this place at this time.  

And here we are now.  So far away from the hustle bustle of city life, of suburban life, of small town life. It's quiet here. There is space to contemplate. There is place to savor the beauty. There is time to slow down.  There is time to do and to be. And I am counting every last lucky star.  Offering gratitude to the breezes that blow down our mountain. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.      

 

Bedtime, August 25, 2015

Bea: Daddy, is the earth the center of the universe?

Byron: Nope.

Bea: Ok. That's what Annie said too. (Annie from The Magic Treehouse).

Bea: Who's the philosopher?

Byron: Socrates? Plato?

Bea: No. No. 

Byron: Aristotle? 

Bea: Yes! Aristotle.  He thought the earth WAS the center of the universe. And you know King Phillip? His son, Alexander the Great...Aristotle was his teacher. He (Alexander) had a wild stallion, named Bersephulus.

Byron: That's right. Yes. And then many, many years later there was this guy name Copernicus who solved a problem and learned that the earth is not the center of the universe. 

Bea: Can we see Pluto?

Byron: We can't. It's too far away. But we sent a satellite to take pictures of Pluto. It took the satellite 10 years to make the journey. 

They go on chatting. I won't be home this weekend, so they talked about their weekend plans. Bea wants to go to the natural history museum. Byron is game for that, of course. He also suggested a movie at the IMAX. Modern times that we live in, he took out his phone to see what was playing. Turns out their is great feature on dark space. Bea was quite intrigued. She claims to be quite fascinated with outer space. There is also another movie on humpback whales. Byron showed her the preview, which reminded him of a story he heard on NPR on his way to work about the anniversary of some of the first sonar recordings of humpback whales from the 1960's. He let Bea listen to those too. Then he whipped the whole topic right back around to Pluto.  

Byron: Did you know that these recordings were included on the Voyager's trip? 

winter moments

Already mid January and oh goodness, this year is off and running. Today has been rainy and cold. I love it. Especially if I don't have to be outside in it.  After our morning at school, we came home and decompressed for the rest of the afternoon. A little read aloud, some writing work, tea, muffins, classical music on Pandora...All is well. 

I wish I had more words to share in this place.  I am a bit speechless these days.  I read too much news.  I feel frustrated and forlorn and ignited and recommitted to "go confidently in the direction of my dreams" and to hold tight to all that is beautiful and loving and kind.  While these times highlight all of the ways in which we lack control, I'm determined to do what I can to listen and be present.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our New World

Well, hello there! It's been SO LONG since I've written here.  So much has happened! Last summer as I was sweltering in heat and sinking into yet another case of deep summer blues, I said to Byron that this was it and that we needed to move. I didn't want to be in Texas anymore. It's too hot, too dry. The trees are short. I was exhausted and uninspired. We tried to make it work - mentally and emotionally for a dozen years. Don't get me wrong. Life did work. Mostly. In all the visible ways, we thrived. Yet internally, there were seeds in each of us that were planted yet never watered. What could they blossom into if only watered?  Was there a way we could follow our 20 something year old hearts and move to the mountains?  To each other, we'd ask, "Remember, we always wanted to do that?" Oh yes, it was time to listen carefully to the soft wisdom that spoke within us both.   

So we dug our heels in. I mourned and hoped and tried to live in the moments. I kept my expectations low. Knowing always that the dream just might not come true - at least not at this point in our journey.  Months ticked away. Lights turned green. One after the other.  I cried or the thought of leaving my loved ones. My heart ached. My heart broke. My heart yearned. At moments, I felt the paralysis of fear  of uprooting Bea from the only life she had known.  I remembered my breathe. I remembered my breathe. I trusted in myself and in Byron and in Bea that we could do this. That we could broaden our horizons and stretch our world. We could leap and stumble and get up again. We'd have each other.  Hand in hand we create our circle.   

So we did it. We sold our house. Our dear little blue cottage with it's two big porches and its white picket fence. We said so many goodbyes. We hugged. We cried. We wrote down addresses. We sold and donated lots of furniture and belongings.  I swept and mopped and pulled appliances out of their nooks and scrubbed the years away.  I rented a mailbox at a UPS store in the area where we planned to land. We packed up our belongings and had them shipped to a storage facility a thousand miles away. 

We loaded up Pebbles and Molly (our cat and dog) and Bea's favorite blanket and books. After a week of visiting family along our way, we made our way to our new world - the mountains of Western North Carolina.  It's been two months since we said our farewells to the place that held us as we grew up and into a family.  I'm not yet at home here. I'm still dependent upon my GPS as I am still finding my way. I am still searching, learning, and trusting that we haven't veered off in the wrong direction.  One day, life will feel familiar here. I look forward to that.  One day, I might feel as though I have a place here.  For now, I am exploring. Finding beauty in so many places.  Feeling love and warmth from the earth and it's people.  There could be no softer place to land, I suppose. This region overflows with goodness.  Still, I'm searching for the feeling of home.  It will come. 

This little piece of poetry has been a balm to my soul.  

Go to the Limits of your Longing 

God speaks to each of us as 

    he makes us.

    then walks with us silently out of the night.

You, sent out beyond your recall,

    go to the limits of your longing.

    Embody me. 

Flare up like a flame,

    and make big shadows I can move in. 

Let everything happen to you:

    beauty and terror.

Just keep going. No feeling is final.

Don't let yourself lose me. 

 

Nearby is a country they call Life.

You will know it by its seriousness. 

 

Give me your hand.  

 

                                                                                    Rainier Wilke,  Book of Hours, I.59

 

Our Holiday Season

Well, hello there.

It's been quite a long while since I've checked into this space. Right now, lunch is nearing. I'm not sure I'll be able to finish writing this post all in one sitting.  Beatrix is listening to Stuart Little on audio. We've taken a break from school work this week so that I can get my gifts made up and mailed and to just have time to visit with friends while most of us are on winter break. She is loving the break from the regular routine, riding her bike around and around our yard, rough housing with Molly, and then in general just talking to me constantly and giving me tight, tight hugs and lots of kisses.  She is very affectionate these days.  I do not require a lot of touch, so I try to embrace the PDA.  I have a sweet, sweet girl and I am deeply touched that she still thinks I'm so awesome.  

I've uploaded a ton of pictures in this post. I'm sorry if it causes your browser to crash. We've had a pretty slow Advent season. I've learned over the years that less is best when it comes to the holidays. This year,  we drove out to the tree farm and cut a little pine tree, attended the Advent choral concert and the local university chapel, and attended the Winter Faire at the local Waldorf School. Otherwise, we have not done much more running around for the holidays. We are lucky that anytime we do get out of the house for a quick errand or take Molly, our dog, for a walk we can easily find ourselves window shopping around our festive town square or meandering around the historic section of town admiring the older homes decorated with stately trees shining bright through tall windows.  At home, Beatrix has taken a new liking to watching Christmas movies. This year she has really enjoyed A Charlie Brown Christmas, Miracle on 34th Street, Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer, and Elf.  We light candles and drink hot cocoa and listen to carols. When we get in the car, we tune into the local holiday station and she gets excited to hear her favorites.  We pause getting out of the car if "Drummer Boy" is playing because we just HAVE to sing it all the way through. Sweet times.  She's not so much into the crafting this year, but definitely still finding magic in new ways.  

When I look around my home, I often feel a lump in my throat. I feel so grateful for the love and simplicity and contentedness of our days. Not without struggles and hard feelings, but we are well and and ever hopeful. And then I turn on NPR or login to my Facebook account and I am reminded of the times in which we are living and it all feels especially fleeting and bittersweet -- as if watching a collision in slow motion and there is no way to stop it. I panic for our precious earth and I panic for the twinkle in my daughter's eye and her huge heart. In her and all of our children, I see hope and kindness and empathy - free of cynicism and hatred.  It's our most important job to nurture and protect their spirits so that they can go on and know how to do that for their own one day. But it sometimes feels as though we might soon be swimming into a tsunami.  

A couple of nights ago, a few close friends came over to my house for treats and tea. Towards the end of the evening, we gathered around the piano to sing some carols together. One of the songs we sang was "Oh Holy Night." The lyrics struck a chord with me. They mean something to me this year.  It's funny how the universe opens up so that we can receive what we need,  when we need it.  

Oh Holy Night, the stars are brightly shining, 

It is the night of our dear Savior's birth;

Long lay the world in sin and error pining,

Till He appeared and the soul felt it's worth. 

A thrill of hope the weary soul rejoices, 

For younger breaks a new and glorious morn;

Fall on your knees, Oh hear the angel voices! 

O night divine, O night when Christ was born! 

O night, O holy night,  O night divine!

3rd Verse

Truly He taught us to love one another;

His law is love, 

And his gospel is peace;

Chains shall he break

For the slave is our brother,

And in His hame all opression shall cease. 

Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,

Let all within us praise His holy name;

Christ is the Lord, 

Oh, praise His name forever!

His pow'r and glory 

Ever more proclaim! 

His pow'r and glory 

Ever more proclaim! 

Peace on earth, goodwill toward all! 

Love,

Nichole

 

Glory Days of Spring

 

While Beatrix was outside playing this afternoon, I thought I'd take the time to upload photos to flickr and maybe find enough patience to sit at the computer long enough to chime into this place. Hello!! 

Well, it's spring time in Texas. My favorite time in Texas. Wildflowers are my thing in case you haven't noticed. I love the fields of flowers, the gorgeous light, the evolution of the blooms as the season warms. Mmm..everything is beginning and lovely and inspiring to me at this time of the year. 

My yard, oh my gosh, is kind of (almost) what my dreams are made of right now.  There are areas where I'd like the blooms to be mixed up more but instead they clustered in bundles of individual types. And maybe my backyard is donning just a little too much red and blue right now. A little more yellow, pink, and white sure would be perfection. But otherwise, it's somewhere between a wild meadow and overgrown cottage garden out there and I couldn't be more pleased considering what we started with a few years ago when we moved here. 

Today was 90 degrees. Ouch. It's suppose to cool off for the remainder of the week, but still, as a clicked the AC on this afternoon, I was reminded of the inevitable. Summer will be here soon. I'm hoping we can squeeze out six more weeks or so of spring-like weather.  In the front yard, we brewed sun tea and I'm started a solar calendula infusion as I am beginning to make soap and balms again. Actually, my blog name references a little soap company I had years ago, before Bea was born. Our brand was called Democracie Goods and our motto was Live Free,  Die Clean.  Once we adopted Bea, I stopped making soap and opened up a preschool instead. Now that a window has opened, Bea is older and she's beyond the scary combination of young child + lye, I'm dipping my toes back into that world. I lost all of my recipes, so I'm basically starting from scratch. I've even had a couple of botched batches.

There's a new tiny farmer's market just starting up a few blocks from our house. It happens on Thursdays from 3:00-6:00. Bea and I are thinking it might be fun to set up shop there once we get some inventory built up.  Maybe we could sell mini wildflower bouquets, or hand dyed silks, or soap, or whatever veggies we have growing, postcards, or balms and salves. You know, just to add a little extra purpose to our days. It's fun to dream! 

Also, before I close, I thought I'd list a few of some much enjoyed reads that she and I have had over the last couple of months. 

Beatrix's interests:

The Big Katie Morag Storybook

Katie Morag, Of Course

Rabbit Hill

The Pony Scouts (series)

Benny and Penny (series)

Album of Horses

Heidi

Nichole's Interest:

How To Be A Wildflower

To Kill A Mockingbird

Go Set a Watchman

Our Endless Numbered Days

Coyote's Guide to Connecting with Nature

The Edible Garden

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Still trying.

It's been a weird year for me, coming down from running a preschool in my house, to not and choosing to homeschool my only child.  Beatrix is nearing seven years old. How? In seven more years she will be 14. In ten years... Where does time go? Why is it so darn fast? It feels like in the blink of an eye, we suddenly took that long drive to Amarillo on a bright, spring morning. Met our 6 pound daughter,  fell madly in love, and leapt into the wildest, most profound journey of our lifetime...parenting Beatrix.  She nearly reaches me at my shoulder. She is heavy. I can't really pick her up for more than a minute or so.  She covers my entire body when she climbs into my lap.  She struggles with goodbyes. Her intensity is unlike almost everyone I know.  She feels all the feels from a large radius around her. Oftentimes, I worry that I'm too hard on her. Oftentimes, my heart breaks when she puts herself down. Oftentimes, I wonder how did we get to this point. Oftentimes, I try to remember to take my own deep breathe as I dutifully remind her to do the same.  Oftentimes, I wish for another chance to try again, that I didn't get it right this one and only time.  Oftentimes, I feel lonely and I sense that she does too. 

We hurt. We struggle. We love. We breathe. We try again. To get it. To be kind to ourselves. To be kind to each other. To heal the wounds that we each arrived here with.

Those are the difficult times. The larger than life, is everything going to be okay times?  In between, we look like most everyone else, I suppose. I'm grateful for this season of my life, with all of it's heaviness because I still get to dream of wildflowers, sip coffee, take in the morning sunshine from my kitchen window, plan my next road trip, listen to birdsong on our daily doggy walks around the neighborhood, feel the sensation of my toes and feet submerged  into the mini rapids of our little river.  And gosh so much more. Sometimes I joke with myself that if I squint my eyes just right, there's just the right amount of blurriness around our existence and it all looks like a fairytale. And then I chuckle, raise my eyebrows, and shake my head.  I remind myself daily to let the heaviness go. What will be will be. I'm doing my best here by loving unconditionally and relentlessly and that is enough. 

And in the end, I truly believe this life is beautiful and so worth every ounce of pain.  And it shouldn't go by without a little pause and reflection. And so, I'm here. In this place that I can't quite let go of. Still trying. 

 

 

It's been a long while since I checked into this blog. I've taken a break from socializing and have quite enjoyed some extreme introverted behavior.  I dare say it has been a delicious feeling to embrace the quiet.  For the most part, I've even drastically slowed in taking pictures of our days.  Mostly because, I've been zapped of photographic inspiration and am still struggling to find something which feels original for me to sink my teeth into. It all sounds kind of dreary and depressing (and it is --  sort of) BUT it has also felt very freeing because I've concentrated on just letting myself be where I am and not feeling the need to prove my relevance to anyone.  But to live that quiet, intentional life I so much crave. 

However.

Life is in constant motion of searching for that balance and so here I am. Fingers at the keyboard. Challenging myself to untangle the knots of my thoughts, feelings, and experiences. To tie them into words and sentences and photos. To keep my story coming.   

And yes, here we are, in the midst of the advent season.  As you can see, I've changed my tune a bit this past week in regards to photographic inspiration. How can one not? With all the bright, golden sunshine, the drunk on magic kiddo (how many more years do we have left with her believing? It's fleeting. Most of the time, we think she just kind of goes along with it all because it hurts too much not too), sentimentality peaking with holiday treasures from years past discovered under their layers of newspaper wrap. It's a special time of the year.  Full of aromas, more knick-knicks than usual, carols, a flood of little moments remembered and repeated, carrying us into a new year of life. 

And with all this beauty.  All that is sacred and intimate to our days and to our lives, their is a sense of fragility pulsing through my veins.  We are beyond blessed in so many ways. 

We have October.

Maybe it's the impending seasonal shift. The intense summertime heat dulls me. Inspiration, curiosity, the hunt for the those moments that make me feel alive and free dissolve away.  However, like clockwork, autumn settles into me with a bite. I feel a bit more of all the emotions. I'm excited to wake up each day to greet the sunrise. I've got ideas for little projects. Hope bubbles up from deep within my heart. Dreams whisper in my ear. 

And so, I've made it to October, once again. Sweet, soul arousing October. I'm savoring the cool mornings, the golden light, the shadows flittering around our home, my slippers, and warm cups of tea. Of discovering the world alongside my daughter.  Literature, history, fairy tales, music, knitting, and poetry.  My joy of learning these days rivals my years as an undergraduate liberal arts major. Except, the wisdom I've earned, makes the experience all the more rich and meaningful. And if you throw a healthy heap of nature into the mix, you've got a life worth living, for sure. These homeschoolish days full of books, art supplies,  gardens, wilderness and the shade of great trees have been much needed medicine for my soul. I am so very grateful for every bit of it. And quite honestly, I hope she is enjoying herself as much as I am! 

And of course, a big, bold disclaimer should be attached right about now.  Of course, life is messy, hard, confusing, and heartbreaking at times. We, like any other human family, lack for nothing in this department of struggles. Yet, we have each other. We have the privilege of a new day. We have perspective. And we have October!