Tuesday, July 21

hen's eggs and loose ends

Our hens started laying this week. The eggs are tiny. Beginner eggs. It's all very exciting.

Hot and humid around here: a thunderstorm is coming today to cool things off. The garden looks fantastic and I moved some beds around so things are really flowing.

I feel good at 18 weeks pregnant and have energy, something I thought I would never see again. It's easier in some ways to be pregnant with my second child. I know what kind of a mother I am. I know what things we need, which we don't. I'm secure in our choices. I don't have to troubleshoot everything or try everything this time. I know what to do with a baby and how fast it goes. I think about the birth every day (another home birth) but don't feel like it has a hold over me. I'm nesting hard, finishing up loose ends (painted the kitchen white). Just little things like knowing the garden is in good shape for next spring. Fixing Cedar's old amber necklace to use for the newcomer. Sorting and plant dyeing some onesies and collecting hand knits at street markets and spending probably too much time on etsy picking things up. Getting the moses basket ready.

The first trimester was very full of nausea and doubt. What was I thinking? Why change a good thing of the 3 of us? Did I want to do all of this again? Am I crazy? There is no way out, no way back. Just inexorable, forward. Forward to the birth. It took me a long time to adjust. And this was a baby we planned for and wanted! Okay maybe he was a tiny bit early. Motherhood is a trip.

But now I'm good with it. Looking forward to it, in the way that I look forward to camping or travel, when everything is a little harder, but also simpler. It simplifies itself down to the special essentials. You can do anything, not everything.

It will be what it will be.

Friday, July 17

the horsie party

These pictures were taken by a friend a long time ago. When Cedar was just newly 2, I think. It was a birthday party at a barn and there were horses to ride, although he wouldn't. When he found out he was having a birthday this year, to turn three, he started talking about a horsie party. So I took him to a local animal fair which had free pony rides, knowing he might not actually ride. But he did. I put him in the saddle and around the meadow he went. 

Thursday, July 9

farm stand zinnias, humidity, and a rainstorm

Doing a little zinnia plant dyeing and drinking out of the the cut stems. Enjoying the rainy yard and coming in with grass on our feet, hands filled with snipped blooms. Putting ceramic eggs in the six straw-filled nesting boxes for when the hens begin laying. Taking Cedar to summer waldorf camp two mornings a week and seeing how happy he is there. Ordering a big inflatable pool from amazon to set up in our yard. Thundershowers after a spring of drought. Looking for a prenatal yoga class. Getting  little sun kissed and wishing I hadn't suntanned all those times without spf when I was a teenager. Breakfast out: mango smoothies, spinach and feta omelettes, grilled blueberry muffins. A tiny cluster of wine berries on the side of the plate. Deciding to take Cedar berry picking on our roadsides soon.

Full summer swing.

Thursday, July 2

the dahlia

I left it in the garden for as long as I could, but then when the bottom petals started to fall off, I knew I had to pick it and bring it inside.

Wednesday, July 1

yellowstone and thought meanderings

all iphone

We just returned Sunday from a week's trip out west with Tim's family to visit Yellowstone National Park. We animal gazed, swam in the meeting of the Gardner River and the Boiling River, and floated down the Yellowstone. We saw bear, bald eagles, bison, elk. We saw the geysers. Cedar was a delight to see everything with. The first Sunday was Father's Day, Tim and I's 8th Year Anniversary, and the Solstice. There were rainbows visible from the dinner table. Last Saturday, June 27, Cedar turned 3.  Tim baked salmon on cedar wooden shingles, and potato cakes. I baked my Grandmom Elly's Lemon Cake for him, having brought the recipe from home, and everybody sang.

Cedar went on his first airplane trips. I loved staying in the hotels and at the rental house; everything is simpler on vacation. The basic needs are met, and the big pressures (bills, vacuuming, washing, laundry) are gone, or greatly reduced. I like collecting everyone's dirty laundry on vacation and throwing a load in. I like being away from the things of home I'm tired of. The first few days away I'm always sick. Homesick, transition-shattered, whatever. But then it passes and I'm interested. Interested in everything. Collecting tiny words and items in my journal (a magpie feather, bison fur, a green circular moss), collecting polaroids and single shots of film and books to read. I found Mountain Man, by Vardis Fisher, and it blew my mind. A different kind of life.

Getting back home was a full day of two flights, a rental car return, a big drive from the city, and a stop at Whole Foods for rooftop tacos and gingerbread, and we were fried, but home. A day to recover, to inspect the garden, to put out the suet cakes, to pick a bouquet, to get stung by the white faced hornets who had industriously put up a complex on our back porch while we were away!, to do laundry, and do it over when I forgot it was down there for a day, to rest. To process.

Cedar will be have a little brother at Christmastime this year; I'm 15 weeks pregnant. The morning/all day sickness was lingering, along with a sort to life nausea of deep questioning and sorting. Not about bringing another life into the world, but how to handle the life I have with more grace. More balance. How to keep focus. How to let things go. How to not hold on. How to live it with joy. There is only the now.

After I had looked for a while at that daffodil before I got up, I asked myself the question, "What do you want of your life?" and I realized with a start of recognition and terror, "Exactly what I have - but to be commensurate, to handle it all better."  ~ Journal of a Solitude, May Sarton.

Yesterday I went through all my old journals. In them I found the same questions, dissatisfactions, searching. 20 years of the same old shit. In many ways it was a relief; I guess my memory is so bad I thought present angst was caused by present circumstances. But this is something bigger, older. No one's journey or responsibility but mine. I was surprised too. The same stuff, year after year, and it's like I hadn't even noticed.

How on earth does one shift that? Or make peace with that? With the longing.

I've been listening to the Moonlight Sonata a lot.

There will be time.

...time for all the works and days of hands
that lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

xo Brooke