Sheepish

I, Me, Mama

I struggle with the month of August.  Partly it's just too damn hot.  And being a February baby every part of my DNA recoils with the heat and humidity that is part and parcel to this stage in the wheel of the year.

Mostly though, more than any other, this month holds much nostalgia for me as a Mama.  A generous amount of melancholy comes to roost in my head and heart when this part of the year comes around.   I miss the open-ended way our days were spent together.  I miss the lack of routines and the absence of lunch-making duty.  I miss preparing for another homeschool year.  I miss the mornings of quiet I enjoyed knowing that all were asleep under my roof.   

Our days look a whole lot different now - with two old enough to live in their own postal code and one keen on spending time home alone.  I can't seem to figure out my role in this reality.  I have always been happy with the title of  "Mama".  Happy to spend my days creating childhoods.  Happy creating a home.  These are truths that don't lend themselves to resume building.

 

The longest day

The longest day passed without much celebration around these parts.  In fact, zero time was spent doing Solstice-y things yesterday.  I did manage to take a bit of a walk around with camera in hand.  Despite the obvious lack of rain, things are alive and in some cases growing.  

As school days (Hazel) and work days (me) days wind down I am excited about the prospect of no routine for at least a couple of months.  A whole lot of nothing lies in front, a reality that fills me with a sense of freedom like nothing else can.   

xoKaren

Tea Leaves

Time has a funny/annoying way of changing the familiar when it comes to growing little humans.  On this, my third time around I have accepted it as fact.  And while I am still rendered a bit (okay, a LOT) sentimental about the whole process,  I have learned that while some truly loved routines fall away there are also some that stick. In terms of  how to predict which will survive the pressures of time, the only thing I can say is that it is never the thing I would expect to make such an impact. Doesn't that figure?

Case in point - the making of Sun Tea.  While all three of my girls have taken the title of Sun Tea Maker on, it is Hazel who has carried it into a second and third Summer season.  I provide nothing but the materials and she handles the rest (even the stinging nettle - thanks to her Forest School days).  So.  I indulge.  And I plant.

(Stinging Nettle)

(Lemon Balm)

(Camomile)

She harvests, washes and prepares all that will become the tea, then sets it all in the sun to steep.  For this, I am glad.

xo

Outside in May

May.  The month in which colour returns to the world outside my window.

And the balance of time spent inside versus outside tips happily over to the side of the latter.   An awareness of this grace period - these perfect moments lived with intention, before the arrival of all manner of stinging insect.

xoKaren

 

 

Future Prospects

In the ten months we have called this spot home, it has occurred to me more than once that I wish we had started this particular adventure years earlier.  Perhaps at no time is this sentiment more obvious than when talk turns to the planting of trees.  The rewards of such processes are not noticed within the timeframe of a growing season, as I am used to with the vegetable garden experience.  In fact, it is a process that requires me to do math involving numbers that find me a good deal closer to fifty than I am right now.  There is no instant gratification that comes with these babies.

 (Beaked Hazelnut)

 (Hawthorn)

This gesture however, the act of planting trees, balances out the seasonal display of vegetable and flower gardening.  I think that at it's core, it is a gesture of hope for the future.  Akin to that of raising children, it is a gesture that firmly states a belief of the inherent good in the world.   And a desire to do right by all things.

 

Perhaps best left said by Janice May Udry in her book "A Tree is Nice", one of my favourite children's books.

"A tree is nice to plant.  You dig the biggest hole you can and put the little tree in.  Then you pour in lots of water and then the dirt.  You hang the shovel back in the garage.  

Every day for years and YEARS you watch the little tree grow.  You say to people, " I planted that tree."

They wish they had one so they go home and plant a tree too. "

**Incidentally, our trees came from a nursery in Quebec specializing in cold hardy varieties of trees, perfect for our growing conditions here on the homestead.  They go by the name Hardy Fruit Trees and are highly recommended.

Have a great day folks.

xo

 

 

Things that go bloom in the night

I feel that I must say this every year, but just like that, it feels like Spring.  The view from my kitchen window in the early hours of yesterday was distinctly more green than the day before.  

 

I never tire of this - this circle of the seasons.

xoKaren

Sheeps

Very few words are needed to convey the gist of our weekend.  Suffice it to say, that this is possibly the best time of year to spend time in a barn.  Any barn really.  Lucky for us our Saturday was spent in the Milkhouse Dairy  lambing barn.  

For the third year in a row we have enjoyed marking this part of Spring with Cait and Kyle and too many lambs to count.  And each time it has taken all my willpower not to sneak a couple into the car and bring them home with me.  

 

Heeding the Warning

Somewhere deep in my thoughts I knew a proper, professionally built fence lived in the realm of wishful thinking.  The cold truth of a reasonable yet regretfully unaffordable price tag brought those wheels screeching to a halt.  I deluded myself into thinking my garden would need no protection - the reality was that critter sightings around our homestead fall into the category of rare occurrence anyway.  That's actually what I told myself.

Literally, the next morning we awoke to find a deer hanging around in back of the house.  It was not quickly passing through either.  It was the sort of visit that involved a lot of sniffing and poking around.

A few days later we were visited by a wild turkey.  With the exact kind of demeanour exhibited by the deer.  Scoping out the area is how I would describe it....taking mental notes for later of what options for eating lay in the vicinity.

It was then that I considered myself warned.  And called "Game On".

For the foreseeable future you can find me building a fence.  Or at least something that resembles one.  Either it will keep animals out and veggies in based on my construction prowess.  Or, it will be so badly put together that any interested parties will take one look and keep walking - giving the crazy lady and her fence a wide berth.

 

Time will tell.

xo

Hack jobs

 According to the Urban Dictionary, a hack job can be defined in part as "A crude and improvised or temporary solution to a problem, designed to be more functional and timely than precise, durable or of good quality."  

And, this my friends is precisely what this post is all about.  Turns out, we are the living manifestation of the definition of "hack jobs".

(In the face of gale-force winds, this strategy involving cinderblocks and rope kept our woodshed roof in place protecting our wood pile.  Not lying overturned beside it.)

(In an attempt to redirect Spring melt and rains away from the house, metal sheeting and paint buckets provided us with a water catchment strategy. )

(Our most recent hack job involving pallets screwed together to provide an enclosure for that all important component of any good garden - kitchen detritus and yard waste.)

Despite their shoddy appearances, I have to say that I am as proud of these cobbled together "improvements" as I am of the detail oriented work of choosing paint colours and installing wooden mouldings.    

 I am happy to add the title of Hack Job Artist to my long list of job titles.

 

Back and forth

Much to the dismay of those living in Eastern Canada, hard and fast dates regarding the arrival of Spring and the end of Winter remain elusive.  More than any other, this seasonal shift carries with it a whole lot of baggage.  Plainly speaking, it can feel like an eternity of one step forward in the direction of Spring followed by two steps back into Winter.   For many, myself included, the overwhelming desire to throw open the windows and eat fresh produce from the garden is met with resistance, often in the form of freezing rain or snow.  

And then. When melancholy is about to set in Mother Nature throws us a weekend like the last.  

Sun.  Warmth.  Thaw.  

And Hope springs eternal.