::: still winter :::

I've been hearing a lot of people murmuring wistfully that they wish this snow would melt. They're ready for SPRING, they declare, wrapping their arms around their sweatered torsos while affecting a theatrical shiver. And while I will concede that this winter has given us a pounding of precipitation, I have to give it credit; it's a winter, I tell ya, a genuine, bona fide winter. None of those half-hearted "dustings" or anemic "flurries" for us here in the midwest. We've had one serious snowstorm and blustery blizzard after another, transforming major metropolitan areas into thick blanketed ghost towns, making our rural roads impassable and turning my country lane into a snowbank lined luge track. It stops people in their tracks, slows us all down, shows us we're simply not in control.

And I like it.

My fourteen-year-old son isn't the one who checks the school closings hour-by-hour, beginning the night before. I am. My children aren't the ones standing at the patio door with their noses pressed against the cold, frosty glass, watching the giant flakes float from a bright blue sky. That would be me. And while you would say, "Well, it's pretty, but I don't like to drive in it," neither do I, which is why I don't. It's those snow days that get me off the hook, give me permission to stay at home, rent an iTunes movie or three, plant myself on the couch with a few good books, spend a day in the kitchen making bread or pizza or soup or some new recipe that happens to call for things that I already have in my pantry. On snow days, I get a reprieve. On snow days, all bets are off.

I'm not really sure why this is, because, as a stay-at-home mom, I generally get to determine what does and doesn't get done on any given day. Still, the days usually find me not staying home but trotting from store to store and place to place collecting chipped coconut or tamarind or sheep grain or three ring binders or Dad's blood pressure medicine or someone's forgotten coat/hat/shoes/iPod. I go to meetings and concerts and plays and programs. Even when I'm home, I open the door to repairmen, salesmen, Jehovah's Witnesses, and Amish guys selling assembly-line, fundraiser pizzas.

When the snowstorms comes, though, I know that no one's going to brave my luge track to hand me a Watchtower or peddle a pie. I'm safe to leave my hair uncombed, wear my comfortable elastic-waist pants with the hole in the butt and leave my face bare. I don't have to make the bed, if I don't wanna, and I don't have to shovel the walkway. But I CAN if I WANT to, see. I've got all the time in the world.

Winter allows layers of clothing. I can wear my sweater leggings and laced black boots under a corduroy skirt, a cotton shirt, an earthy sweater and a jacket, my toasty leather mittens with the fingered liners inside, and a thick, fluffy scarf. The perfect ensemble to hide all of my wobbly bits.

And, besides, what happens when this gorgeous blanket of white succumbs to a warm March rain or an unexpected February sun? Do midwesterners really believe that melting snow in January is a harbinger of Spring? Do they not remember their many, many years of living here, in a place where snow continues to fall and snowstorms stack up, sometimes into early May?

When the snow melts in the first quarter of the year, my friends, what we are left with is mud. Puddles and pockets and pits of mud. When the white stuff relents, we are left with a mess, the detritus of winter's litterers unveiled. Now, instead of a harmless puddle of melted snow beside my kitchen door, I'm faced with a heap of mud-encrusted shoes, clothes and children. The dogs no longer leave little wet footprints when they bound in from an outdoor romp, but sploshy smears of sludge. The passel of piles of poo that sunk, steaming, beneath the snow upon first deposit and lay preserved through the months of December, January, February, are now exposed and thawed, sodden and bloated, waiting for an unsuspecting child's, repairman's or Jehovah's Witness's shoe to carry them through the door, onto the white carpet or the wood floor where I find the remains later after feeling a slight wetness on the bottom of my last pair of clean socks.

Yes, Spring will come. When mid-April arrives, her spikes of green crocus leaves breaking up the monochrome, immutable landscape, Spring will come. It will not arrive sooner, no matter how we wish and whine and swear and shiver. It will not arrive in late February or mid-March or early April. For some of us, it will not arrive in early May. So, let's have Winter, shall we? A real, bona fide winter! With the countrysides cloaked in quilts of blue and white, stitched in sticks of black, bejeweled with icicles and spangled with glistening powder, canopied by skies of blue and hazy snowblink, occasionally leaving a gift of fleeting, photogenic air and surface hoar, begging to be admired, gone by the first glance of the sun.

As I look out the window, I'm thrilled to find a fresh batch of flurries gliding to the ground. I'll shove my toes into my comfy slippers and make a cup of hot tea.

It is still winter, after all.

::: snowflakes :::

Out of the bosom of the Air,
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
Silent, and soft, and slow
Descends the snow.

Even as our cloudy fancies take
Suddenly shape in some divine expression,
Even as the troubled heart doth make
In the white countenance confession,
The troubled sky reveals
The grief it feels.

This is the poem of the air,
Slowly in silent syllables recorded;
this is the secret of despair,
Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,
now whispered and revealed
to wood and field.

~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Good Day, Sunshine!

Remember those gorgeous Spring days when the sun was shining, and you'd drag the record player to the other room and stick the speakers in the windows, find your favorite Beatles record, and play "Good Day, Sunshine" while your mom pulled weeds and you raked the crass clippings into a wheelbarrow that would be hauled up to the vegetable garden and thrown down between the rows of onions, carrots, peas and lettuce?

Remember how the wind would blow ever so gently, just enough to cool the sweat on your brow, but not so wild as to toss around the piles of clippings you'd worked so hard to rake? If you did a good job, there might be a trip to the ice cream shop in your future, or a few dollars in your pocket to use at that summer's festival. Every once in a while, you'd stop for a drink of ice water or fresh mint tea, and you'd linger a bit too long, and your mom would shout out a reminder to get back to work, and you'd haul yourself back in from the roof to go back to the sunshine and grass and dandelion fluff and bickering with your sisters or brothers. And if no one was looking, you could lay back in the cool grass under the tree or stretch out in the hammock until someone noticed and cried "no fair!" And then you'd grudgingly pick up a rake and get back to work. At least until you could sneak away long enough to take a peek into the bluebird box and see that there's a mama bird sitting on her tiny sky blue eggs.

Yeah.

That's what my kids' day is like today, right down to the record player in the window. Since their sister sent her Beatles vinyls home from college yesterday, they've been spinnin' the tunes, and it's a soundtrack custom-made for a day like today. "Here Comes the Sun" and "Good Day, Sunshine" are in rotation.

"I need to laugh, and when the sun is out
I've got something I can laugh about
I feel good, in a special way
I'm in love and it's a sunny day."

I'm telling you, there could barely be a better day, unless I had a maid to clean my house and a cook to make dinner while I'm outside digging in the dirt, spreading manure and sowing seeds.

I have work to do inside, filling out forms and finishing video projects, but I just can't tear myself away from the beauty of this day. I absolutely want to soak up every minute of this paradise.

In Which God Smiles on My Garden

I'm so amazed by this incredible weather! And what are the chances that I get this weather AND a spot of energy to go along with it? It's, like, amazazing!

And can you believe that I got all of my red onions planted this morning? So, get this. My flower beds are cleaned out, my manure is spread, my asparagus is coming up, I will finally have RHUBARB this year, after years of failed attempts, my garlic is sprouting, the chives are up, my fall bulbs are coming up, the lilac and hydrangea lived, AND I planted three rows of red onions! I'm almost afraid to believe it all. It's like the heavens opened up and God said, "I love you, Thicket Dweller." It's incredible, I tell ya. Just incredible.

I hope to scatter some lettuce seeds today. Maybe some arugula, some romaine, maybe even some parsley and cilantro so I can stop buying it when I make ranch dressing.

I know that it's pitiful that things like this get me so excited, but what can I say? These are the very reasons I moved to the country! And after eight years of struggling with garden and livestock issues, it's incredibly refreshing to actually have something go right.

Hallelujah!

A Day Hijacked

My day was hijacked. I boarded it this morning with a plan, a destination, and before I knew it, it was changing course and there was nothing I could do about it.

It wasn't a bad thing. Actually, it was quite a wonderful day, but it just wasn't what I had planned. I had intended to take Sweetheart for a walk before her piano lesson, but it turned out that I had to hit the pharmacy for my dad's prescriptions instead. That was okay. While we were there, we realized that it was St. Patty's day, and, being woefully without any wearin' of the green, we bought a pair of obnoxious green light-up rings, and Sweetheart bought the fabulous wig you see our lovely models Rejoice, Sweetheart, Bo and me wearing. Sweetheart sported her new do for piano lessons, giving her piano teacher a chuckle.

Rejoice is taking piano lessons, too, for the first time in his life. When I went to pick him up, the thrift store manager told me that the volunteer who was supposed to run the register that morning was sick and asked if I'd be willing to work. While we didn't get to take our walk after the lesson, either, Sweetheart and I enjoyed our time working at our favorite thrift store.

We left there and headed for home where my dad and Monet were waiting to go for a bike ride. Ohioans, can you believe how absolutely GORGEOUS it was today? I spent the rest of the afternoon working in my gardens. It was such a thrill to see little green shoots on the lilac I planted last year, and the hydrangea, and the bulbs that are coming up (my first bulbs, planted in the fall!). I spent a good amount of time clearing the dead stuff out of the perennial garden, where I found columbine leaves, fragrant catmint, the beginnings of lilies and irises, some brave lupine shoots, a tidy line of salvia, and little clumps of lamb's ear. The herb garden so generously cared for my chives, but also a clump of hyssop and some other green piles of something or other. We'll know them when we see them. Bard's garden is so full of good stuff it's almost hard to believe. And when I ventured into my veggie garden to check on the garlic and clear away last year's dead asparagus stalks, I found this year's shoots poking out of the ground. Asparagus! Soon!!! The line of garlic marching along beside the asparagus is reaching up even higher into the upper world than it was last I checked. Houdin spread the manure that was deposited there over the winter by a dear man from church who generously brought me a truckload of the black, strawy gold. I was surprised by how far across the garden the manure reached once it was spread. This garden is going to be the bestest ever yet, I tell you. The very bestest ever yet.

The Baby had ballet class, and I hoofed it over to a church lady's house to deposit Houdin, who spent several hours there raking fallen pine cones. He's trying to earn money to go to Honduras in TWELVE DAYS! It will be his first major trip, and he's very excited about it, but isn't anywhere near his financial goal. He and a group of men from the community are going for a little less than two weeks to build a home for a poor single homeless mom there. The land has been purchased and the money for the home is being donated. These nine or ten guys will go and do the rough work and then locals will finish the interior. Houdin is pretty stoked about the opportunity but still needs to come up with about $1000 to pay the group leader back for the ticket. The passport is in processing. Pray that it gets here in time! His plane ticket is already purchased!

After a great St. Patty's day dinner of reubens and potato chips, I read aloud at the dinner table from Sailing Acts, a book by Linford Stutzman about taking his sabbatical to sail the routes of the Apostle Paul. The kids don't know it yet, but Stutzman is going to be a guest speaker at our church soon. When I was finished with the chapter, Rejoice and I had a very good discussion about his family's history, the difficulty he had in making the decision and arrangements to come to the United States for this learning opportunity, his hopes for the future, and his plans for the remainder of his stay. He shared with me how difficult it is to get books in Swaziland, how the library is hot and inadequate, and how getting a library card is not an easy task, and I started cooking up a plan for him to be able to start his own personal library that he'll be able to share with others in his community. So many of the young men are having a struggle with depression due to idleness that comes from the very high unemployment rate and so many other battles. Rejoice really wants to be a leader, wants to make a difference in these young men's lives. I so wish I could do much more. Rejoice is such a giving and tender person, and I can see that he could truly make a difference in his community. Please pray for him as he thinks about his return to his home in just a few short months that he can be the change he really hopes to be.

And now, here I am, practically falling asleep at the keyboard, but I wanted to write about today, even if it was in snippets. While it didn't help my laundry situation, or my cluttered bedroom, I'm glad that today didn't go according to plan.

Not my plan, anyway.

Would ya take a look at that!

When that March wind blows strong, and the temperature climbs out of the winter depths, and the buds of the silver maples appear, I pull on my mud boots and venture out into the gardens for a peek on their progress. I don't dare even breath the word "Spring" until I see this:

That, my friends, is the reality of Spring. That is the promise of baked potatoes, fresh summer salads, creamy soups and sour-cream scrambled eggs. There is a truth in chives that's unarguable, unmistakable, and when I see them thrusting their green lives into the first sign of warmth, I know that what they're saying is a fact; winter is almost over, my love. Asparagus, arugula, romaine and sweet peas are not far behind. And then comes nasturtiums, hollyhocks, marigolds and leeks. And THEN, you KNOW it's not long before eggplants and summer squash and tomatoes and watermelons!

And this year? Because I chose very deliberately not to be a lazy bum last Fall, I happily discovered a beautiful, neat row of this in my veggie garden today:

Do you know what that is? Do ya? Do ya? It's GARLIC! My very first crop of garlic ever, after several unsuccessful and half-hearted attempts at planting the fabulously delicious and absolutely necessary bulbs, I've finally got garlic!

How could life possibly get any better than that?

Midwinter

Ms. Booshay over at Quiet Life issued a photo challenge. Post the sixth photo in your sixth folder. Donna's is stunning. Mine is eh. Though shalt not covet they blog neighbor's camera and photographic eye. ;-)

It's now day five of some illness that has me feeling less-than-healthy. I've been spending this week in bed with a pounding head, fever and chills, throbbing eyeballs and wracking cough. Yesterday, I finally went to the doc because I was fairly sure I had the beginnings of sinusitis and bronchitis. The doc agreed. While we were in there, Bo had his nostrils swabbed for a flu test, which was very unpleasant (so he says. I closed my eyes and could only hear the procedure) and came back negative. Negative! Today, he's feeling the effects of a bad cold, he says, but not the flu. Could I just have a very bad cold that carries with it the classic symptoms of influenza?

But, as I often say, things like this are God's way of slowing us down, and I have been slowed w-a-y down, what with this unfriendly visitor and this amazing Midwestern weather. We're actually having a winter this year, and it has everyone in a tizzy! School called off day after day (ours continues on, of course), meetings canceled, practices postponed. People are bustin' out the sleds and skis. My neighbor has been so kind as to plow my long, country drive, sometimes multiple times a day. But now that I'm a mini-van mom, I'm still stuck here until the man with the snow tires gets home. So I've settled in, have just about worn out my iPod and wireless keyboard, and have drunk more licorice tea in the past week than most people drink in a lifetime.

Believe it or not, I've actually enjoyed this winter, even with the illness. I've awoken to so many beautiful sunrises, and, as I type, I'm blessed with the view of a gorgeous white dusting of snow on the huge silver maples. I love the clean whiteness. If I could have my way, it would stay like this until April, when the crocuses start popping up from the earth. I know that we won't have Spring in January or February, so it's just fine with me if the land lies dormant under the blanket of white. It's when it all melts and we have two or three months of ugly, brown, litter-strewn mud to contend with that my sadness kicks in, that I feel the effects of that terrible bleak midwinter.

I do have compassion for those who have to navigate the roads and sidewalks in this weather. I wish there were some way we could all do the sensible thing and just hibernate for these months, but I know that it's not realistic (though I've never been accused of being a realist!). But even in my compassion, I can't hide my excitement when I see these incredibly big, fluffy snowflakes that are even now dancing outside my window.

While I certainly look forward to spring, I know that it's quite a ways away. So, for now, I embrace winter!

::: wintery thoughts on a wintery day :::

It's a child's dream, a snow like this. We didn't get it for Christmas, but we're welcoming it all the same. It's the time of year when we discover that we don't have enough matching gloves and mittens, or someone is missing their snowboots, or that a pair of pants doesn't fit under the snowsuit anymore. The snow bikes, snowboards and sleds are dug out from the barn, ramps are made, shovels are re-purposed from digging holes to making ramps, and I, the mother, venture out long enough to make an appearance, take a few trips on the sled, and get laughed at for my lack of snow savvy.
And then I head back inside to make a batch of homemade hot chocolate with real whipped cream, a dash of grated dark chocolate and a sprinkle of cinnamon on top. Everyone claims their favorite mug while I revel in a job well done, listening to the "oooohhhh!"s and "yum!"s as they drink it up.

It's great fun to look out onto the hillside from the warmth of my house and feel like I'm lazing around inside a giant snow globe.

I wish I were independently wealthy. I'd love to take my children downhill skiing. It was the only "sport" that I loved as a teen, aside from fishing. Every Monday after school, all season long, a group of us would climb aboard the bus with our ski club advisers and make the long drive to the closest slopes (Ohio isn't exactly known for its skiing spots) where we would suit up, pull on those giant ski boots, and do that awkward, clomping ski-boot-walk out to the lift. For hours, we'd ride up, ski down, ride up, ski down, the time passing so quickly that it was always a surprise when it was time to leave. I could ski anything on the slopes, from cruising the bunny hops to carving the moguls, and never sustained any injury, aside from maybe my pride every time I backed onto the lift chair, which I never really could get the hang of, or the few times I fell getting off the chair, which were probably the two hardest parts of skiing for me.

Still, I don't remember being intensely fearful of the process, except for the time that one of my club mates broke her leg. I don't think it had occurred to me up until then that one could actually get hurt having this much fun. I may have had a bit more respect for the slopes after that, but never fear.

When I was a young mother with two toddlers at home, Bo and I took an evening to hit the slopes. I was so excited about getting out there, after having been off of skis for about five years. I suited up, pulled on those big ski boots, wiggled my fingers into my gloves, donned a warm winter hat, wrapped a warm scarf around my neck, and clomped awkwardly to the lift, preparing to race my way down the hills for the first time with my hubby in true ski bunny fashion.

But when I got to the top of the first slope, something happened to me. Something inside of me clicked, snapped, and locked up, and I found myself perched at the peak of a very modest hill, eyes wide, experiencing an unfamiliar feeling.

I was afraid of the slope.

Suddenly, the stupidity of this sport zoomed into view for me. A mortal being attaches long, narrow boards to her feet, perhaps even waxes them, puts her fists around two sticks that end in sharp points, rides high in the sky to the top of an snow-covered hill and, along with hundreds of other people she doesn't know and can't fully trust, races down an icy path. I began to realize how brittle bones are, and how vulnerable the back and neck can be, and how irresponsible it would be for a grown woman to leave her two babies motherless just because she wanted to get a little thrill by speeding down a snowy slope.

Nope.

I don't recall how I made it down that hill, though I'm sure I skied it. Did I enjoy myself, or did I pray for my safety the entire way?

Somehow, I got to the bottom, snapped off my skis, and nestled myself into a comfy chair next to the fireplace in the lodge with a cup of hot chocolate.

Every once in a while, the ski bug bites me, especially when I see Houdin and Monet out there trying to make jumps on our little hillside, and I want to give it another try, but now it's the cost of the thing that prohibits me. I should just put the trip on the credit card and go for it. After all, I can't take it with me. Of course, if I follow that plan, I might be leaving it behind a bit earlier than I had planned.

What did you leave behind when you crossed the threshold of parenthood? What did you pick up? What would you love to see your children do that you did as a child, but you just haven't done it yet? What do they do that you never would have dreamed of doing at their age?

Snow day!

All is quiet here, save the sound of the freezing rain tip, tap, tipping on my skylight. We're snowed in. Remember that feeling? Glorious imprisonment. We can't go anywhere, and no one can really venture down our long, hilly, frozen lane. Everyone is home, safe, and there's nothing on the calendar today, which is more the trend than not lately, thank goodness. I know that Bo would have appreciated another day off and would have welcomed this weather on a Friday or a Monday, but here it is, and we'll enjoy it. There's a chicken stewing on the stove for some homemade potpie and homemade pizza for breakfast, left over from last night's family night, which kept everyone up so late that they're still sleeping at ten in the morning. I sense some homemade hot chocolate in the plans, too.

What do you do with your snow days, if you have any? If you live in a warm climate, what is your equivalent of a snow day?

Things I Love Right Now...

And when I say things I love "right now," I mean things that are particularly close to my heart at this time. The normal things that I love, like my family and life and God, go without saying. These are just things that make me all warm and fuzzy at this time in my life.

My new iPod Touch. This is just love, pure and simple. It's a thing of beauty. How did I live without this for so long?

Podcasts. I mean, wow. I know I'm W-A-Y behind the times, here, but there is just nothing in the world like listening to This American Life or The Splendid Table at my own convenience.

The Library. I go in phases with this one. Sometimes I love my library, and sometimes I leave her in the dust. Usually the latter comes after me misplacing some very expensive book for a great amount of time, or one of my children misplacing some CD for a great amount of time, and me being too embarrassed to pay the fine for it. But then I break down and return to the arms of her comforting shelves once again.

Books on CD. This is part of the loves mentioned above. The Library + Books on CD + iPod = lovelovelove. The problem is that I listen to go to sleep, and then I can't remember where I left off. Currently, I'm listening to Before You Know Kindness by Chris Bohjalian, whose book Midwives was my first exposure to him. I even got to do a little interview with him and get some signed copies back when I worked for an independent bookstore. On deck: So Brave, Young and Handsome by Leif Enger.

CDs. Another library/ipod combo. There are many CDs that I own but are not playable anymore, or works that I own on cassette, and then there are those things that I've heard smatterings of but would like more, so I find them at the library and pop them onto my iPod. Mmmm.

Interlibrary Loan. Pure genius. Makes all of the above even more fabulous.

iCal. This is a great Mac application that also happens to be on my iPod, so when I plug in my iPod, iCal syncs them both and I always have my calendar updated. Quite nice, really.

Electricity. We were without this for about a week when Ike swirled his coattails across o-HI-o. I was not a happy person while I was without refrigeration, water and computer access. Electricity is my friend.

Free time and The Jar. See my previous post about this one.

This gorgeous weather. I do wish I would get outside and enjoy it more. I love these cool, sunny days and could definitely handle them all year long.

Garden-fresh tomatoes with a sprinkling of kosher salt and feta cheese. This is food-love at its simplest.

Apple season. I can't wait to get to the orchard tomorrow and get some of the bestest apples on the planet.

Clean refrigerators. When we had our power outage, it forced me to clean out our three fridges, so now I have some very nice-looking appliances.

facebook. Yes, I have all but neglected my poor blog because of my new jones, facebook. I say new, but I've really been enjoying it for some time.

Text Twirl. A facebook application that is quite addictive. I find myself making words out of series' of letters wherever I am.

Raw milk. We had gone without it for a couple of months, but now it's back, and, boy, am I happy. That cream that sits on the top after the milk has been stored overnight is pure gold.

I think that's it for now.

What do you love?

What do you do when you're snowed in?

The Baby said she wanted to go sledding with her dad, but she knew he wouldn't go because he's "too old." Bo said he'd take The Baby sledding, but he thought she was "too young." They proved each other wrong. When they were all done, they came in for some homemade chocolate with fresh whipped cream. Our speech and debate tournament was canceled part-way through, but, even with being completely snowed in today, I've enjoyed the two feet of snow!

Keep Cool

August. The heat is making me pay for the coolness of July. For the first time in my life, I'm seriously considering selling someone or something to purchase an air conditioner. We already have the whole system set up, the lines charged and everything, but we lack a compressor. We'd get it later, we said. When we had more money. Now we have less. No air in the house, no air in either car, so there's no escape from the heat short of laying in the tub all day or swaddling myself in wet washcloths. Unless you include shopping at the thrift store and the used book store. Which I do.

My niece and nephews are here for a few days. Today's the last of the few, and, while we've had a lot of fun milking goats, making bouquets, eating stuff from the garden, going thrift-store shopping and seeing a bargain showing of Evan Almighty, swinging on the swing and jumping on the trampoline, I think they're ready to go home. They hate the flies and the heat and my ten-year-old nephew Tenn's not too nuts about the lack of TV and various electronic games. I think he'll be glad, though, that he climbed to the top of the treehouse and just sat there for a long, long time, looking out over the hills (darn it! I just had a great idea. Why didn't I give him a disposable camera this week???), visited the cabin, chased chickens, played rodeo with the billy goat, tortured cats, explored the woods and creeks, listened to James Herriot stories about returning cows and flatulent dogs. I mean, what's not to love? Air conditioning? Pshaw.

But it was nice to get some relief from the heat and mugginess yesterday as we combed through the potential bargains at my favorite thrift store. Four-year-old nephew Hot Dog found some great "Engine Turtles" in a fifty-cent bag of treasures. Six-year-old niece Hobbit and eight-year-old daughter Sweetheart delighted in clip-on earrings, necklaces and Hobbit's shiny silvery shrug. The Baby scored a cute sundress and a baggie of Polly Pockets. Twelve-year-old son Monet bought a giant deck of cards and a bubble-blowing contraption. I scored two hunter-green throw-rugs for my kitchen and my second cast-iron skillet of the week (cooking with cast iron is my new thang; last week I found another just like this one, perfectly seasoned and ready-to-use. I added it to my cart with my other thangs--books and hand-embroidered pillowcases). Houdin found some borderline-tacky vintage clothes to add to his collection currently cluttering the floor. And we were so very cool.

Today, it's off to voice and piano lesssons, and then some of us will head for Columbus where we'll meet my sister-in-law and then there may be a little surprise in store for those two teens of mine who go along.

Until then, we'll keep cool in every way we know how.

Snow Day

I hit the snooze button four times before the phone rang. I figured it would be Kim calling to see if we were going to hit the treadmill today, but it was the forensics coach, Carol, asking me if I'd registered for the next tournament. Unless I'd registered in my sleep somewhere between the first alarm and the last snooze-button-slap, the answer was no.

Wide awake with concern that I'd missed registering the kids for their events, I fumbled my way through booting up the computer and navigating to the tournament registration site. It was then that I looked out the window and saw the accumulation of snow. Not only was there a thick, gorgeous blanket of white all over the hillside, but the sky was scattered with snowflakes. I knew immediately that it would be a cozy-up-at-home kind of day.

Cancelled running. Cancelled piano lessons. Forfeited my trip to the grocery store. Sent Bo to the bank in the 4-wheel-drive.

Me? I stayed home. In my jammies. And my slippers. All. Day. Long. Registered the kiddoes successfully ($162 in tournament fees?!? I need to do a fundraiser and fast!), very distantly oversaw Houdin's making of lunch (taco dip. ayum), made a delicious comfort food, listened to piano practicing, watched the kids dress up for snow fun and then head back in again, drank a cup of Houdin's homemade hot cocoa, cuddled with the doggies and kids, and read, read, read.

With our schedule being what it's been--forensics, algebra, worldview, chemistry, drama, choir, piano, church, youth group, fundraisers, social events, life in general--some of our Ambleside subjects have fallen by the wayside. Not forgotten. Just put on hold. It's the read-alouds, really, and we do have a lot of them.

So a good portion of today was spent curled up with kids all around listening to Mama read. The Kon Tiki Expedition. Madame How and Lady Why. A Tree in the Trail. An Island Story. Fifty Famous Tales. This Country of Ours. And this evening, we will finish the most recent chapter of Gone-Away Lake. I'd liked to have read more, but for some reason I get incredibly tired when I read aloud and feel the very impending need for a nap. So I broke it up in bits and read in different spots.

It was definitely a sedentary day.

And now my dear children are waiting for me to watch the play they've prepared.

What do you do on snow days?

Couch Potato to 5K: Week 3, Day 2

My new hobby is chatting with other runners. I don't really mean to do this; somehow, it just happens. For instance, I was at our first speech tournament of the year this past weekend (update on that later) and I sat down to chat with my son's debate partner's mother. Turns out that she ran her first marathon last summer and has been running since she was in high school. She encouraged me to keep running, reminded me how good it is for me, promised me that there will come a time when I won't want to die every time I run.

Thursday morning was not one of those times.

I decided to go running on Thursday because I knew we'd be at the tournament all weekend and I likely wouldn't have time or opportunity to take a jog. Once I was on the track, I decided to move on up to the next level of the Couch Potato to 5k. Week Three. 90 seconds running, 90 seconds walking, 3 minutes running, 3 minutes walking. It. Was. Torture. I'm not going to lie about it. I was panting, praying, and coming thisclose to dying.

But live I did. I did intervals for 33 minutes and was on the trail for a total of 50 minutes.

More than actually stay alive, I actually felt good when I was finished. AND I felt good enough that I went running again today. Kim and I braved the weather and, er...um...visited the health club again. What? Stop looking at me like that. I know I said I really love the outdoors and don't mind running in the cold, but it was BELOW ZERO this morning! That's, like, BELOW ZERO! They called school off everywhere! I may be insane, but I'm not crazy.

So we did the treadmill thing, and we decided to do the Week 3 thing together.

And I actually didn't want to die while I was on the treadmill. You know what else? It really wasn't all that hard! Now, I may not have run as fast as I could have, and I didn't have to brave the cold, but I actually did the intervals and didn't want to gnaw my own leg off.

We did 35 minutes of intervals and 60 minutes of exercise total.

And you know what else? Kim talked me into standing on the scale again. And I'm at 174! Yeah me! That means that I have less than forty pounds to go to reach my target weight, and it means that I actually HAVE lost weight! Especially considering that I weighed in at 185 last time I stepped on the scale.

I'm thankful for encouragement. This is almost addictive, now. While I may want to die again in the future, for now, Kristi's right--I'm actually enjoying it!

Couch Potato to 5K: Trying to Give Up

I found a way out of it yesterday. After all, I'd slept fitfully through the night. I don't think I'd had more than a couple of hours of sleep, tops. And that's all put together. I certainly didn't get that much all at one time.

And the stomach pain. How could I run with stomach pain? I mean, it's not completely my fault that I ate two pieces of birthday cake. And ice cream. I hadn't had birthday cake with its Crisco-based icing for ages. Sure, I had to force myself to eat it, to choke it down. But I finally convinced myself it was good, and the cake part actually was. Well, so was the ice cream part. But that's always good. I didn't say I hadn't had ice cream in ages. Just Crisco-icing cake.

So how could I really have been expected to run yesterday?

And it all turned out fine, anyway. Kim needed a break, too. I decided to try harder the next day. Which was today.

When the alarm went off, I pretty much wanted to die. When I awake on running days, that's basically my first conscious thought. "I want to die. I can't run today. I'll fail. I want to die."

My stomach turns all knotty. I worry about my bladder. What if I have to pee while we're running? Then what? I worry about my bowels. I've seen those photos of marathon runners with the brown stains on their behinds. What in the world is worth that?

I slammed my hand on the "snooze" button. Okay, I really just pushed it with my finger. But I felt like slamming it. Rolling over, I tried to get a few more minutes of sleep. But I couldn't. My brain said, "You can't do it. You're such a wimpy burger. You really, really are a failure, aren't you?" And I, crying like a little girl, said, "Yes. Yes, I am. And I'm not getting out of this bed."

But eventually, my body urged me out of bed, and I slid from the warm, cozy cocoon into the world of good morning.

"Good morning," my husband Bo mumbled.

"Ergh," I answered.

"What's wrong?" he asked, concerned.

"Arachk," I spat.

"What's the matter?" he persisted.

"I have to run. I have to...run. I hate running. I don't want to go. Why do I have to go?"

"Baby. Don't go, then," the demon temptation that is my husband spoke.

"What's the MATTER with you? Of COURSE I have to go! I'm not giving up all this work I've done! I'm not quitting for nothing! How dare you?"

I checked the weather. Fourteen degrees. I hear insanity slips away from you around fourteen degrees.

I pulled on my black long underwear and my tan Columbia Omni-Tech® Nubby Faille HP™ with 100% polyester Ultra-Wick™ brushed mesh lining cargo pants, a built-in-bra camisole and three layers of shirts, topped with a hooded sweatshirt. And one pair of socks. My feet usually don't get cold when I run.

We were the only ones on the trail, Kim and I.

"Are we gonna run?" She asked.

"I don't know," I confessed.

I told her all about my morning battle, how I psyche myself out, convinced that if I come running, I'll surely miss my goal. I'll surely fail. And then what?

"Let's just try," she said.

And we did.

There had been others on the trail before us, evidenced by their footprints in the snow, but they turned around during our first interval.

"This is now uncharted territory," I told Kim as we puffed along. "We're officially insane."

But I'm not so sure about that, even now as I sit in the warm house with my sheepskin slippers keeping my toes toasty. If I could but describe the beauty of the winter trail, the snow-capped trees, the silent snow, the peace, I would rival Wordsworth, Dickinson, Teasdale and Longfellow combined. This snow, this scene, was too beautiful for words. Ocassionally, the wind would catch a branch and, like a domino effect, a few completely soundless clumps of snow would crash, unheard, into a pine bough, which would move in seeming slow-motion, bouncing noiseless and flinging more silent snow to the ground, like giant hushed snowflakes begging for a laconic description. There is none. "Silent," is the banal, overused word that just keeps lunging into my mind. But it's not enough.

We trudged on, and I pushed myself. "If I let my brain win," I told Kim, "I'll give up. I'll be a failure." And so we ran more, longer, endured. And when we thought we were done, we ran one more interval, just in case.

90/90, 2 min/2 min, 2 min/2 min...repeat. We did three repetitions in all, 36 minutes of nine running/walking intervals, and then we walked the remainder back, noticing the difference of our lone back-trail, mine tattling how my feet kick outward as I run, Kim's as straight and steady as a pair of railroad tracks.

We high-fived when we finished. Kim did a little victory dance. My body had won. My brain had been defeated. We'd passed another milestone. We'd lived to run another day. I'd tried to give up, but I hadn't let me.

Next time, I'll likely try to find a way out again. But remembering this day will help. As will the encouragement of my friends (Hi, John! Hit the road!) and even my dear husband, who isn't a demon at all, but the very one who assures me that "it's going away" and he pats my posterior.

It's going away.

What Is It with Us and Winter? A Tragedy Averted

For some reason, winter is always a problem for us. Terrible things seem to happen during winter. One year, I was very overdue with The Baby and my dad ruptured several discs in his back. We were living in a small cabin with no indoor bathtub or toilet and there was ice everywhere. For my dad to get back and forth to Ol' Rosy (the outhouse) was impossible, so he had to use a bedpan, which spilled on several occasions. I, and my very pregnant belly, spent a lot of time close to the floor that winter cleaning nasty messes.

Then one year our whole family got sick. Pneumonia, bronchitis, sinusitis, laryngitis--you name it, we had it. Bo was sicker than he'd ever been, unable to sleep and in terrible pain. On Christmas eve, I'd still not put up decorations, wrapped gifts, or anything. We were in the middle of building a house and everything just seemed hopeless.

Two years ago, we had a horrible ice storm and were without power for a week over the Christmas holiday.

Because we live on a hill, getting into the driveway once the winter weather hits is quite a challenge. The first winter we lived here, we were driving home from visiting friends up north and arrived home very late, to the tune of 2 a.m. When we reached our road, it was clear that we wouldn't be taking that route with our big van, so we tried an alternate route. That route was completely drifted over, a fact we didn't discover until we'd unsuccessfully attempted to navigate it and ended up back-end first in a snow drift. With a two-week old baby, four kids and a young guest in the car, we tried to figure out what to do. It was a two-mile walk in the drifting snow, by now it was 3 a.m, and we couldn't run the engine for fear of the tailpipe being blocked by the drift. We'd die of carbon monoxide poisoning. My husband had his cell phone and called my dad to rescue us. He got the Jeep stuck in a snowdrift and staggered through the storm a 1/2 mile to be stranded with us. We finally called a neighbor who brought his truck and shuttled us to our drive, where we trudged uphill and then steeply downhill to our littel cabin in the woods.

This year, we've had very mild weather. Until today. It was great for sledding and snowboarding, but when we arrived home from church, we were unable to get our van up the drive. That was tolerable this morning; there was nothing to carry. But this evening, we had fourteen gallon-jars filled with raw milk, a sleeping toddler, three bags of groceies and a few sundries to haul.

We decided to get out and push.

The three older kids and I got behind the van and pushed as hard as we could. At first, we didn't seem to make any headway, but then we moved it a couple of feet. The frightening thing was that everytime we seemed to get the thing moved, one of us would lose footing and the van would start sliding backwards. I thought for sure I was going to end up on the ground with the van sliding over me.

But we made it up the hill and into the parking area. There, we realized that our Jeep was parked on the wrong side of the garage, which would make it difficult to unload the van.

"Do you want to move the Jeep, or do you want me to?" asked Bo.

"Doesn't matter," I answered.

"I'll do it, then." And he hopped out of the car, leaving the van running.

Sweetheart asked if she could play in the snow. Her brothers had run down the hill after pushing the van instead of riding inside of it, and she thought it unfair that she'd not get to throw a few snowballs, too.

"It's dark," I protested. She lamented from the back seat.

The next thing I knew, fifteen-year-old Houdin was yelling Sweetheart's name. I looked over to see her lying on the ground behind the Jeep, the vehicle still moving slightly. It stopped, and Sweetheart scrambled to her feet, and then collapsed in frantic tears. My darling daughter had almost been backed over by her own father. He hadn't seen her. How could he have? She'd been bent to the ground to pack a snowball. I hadn't even realized she'd left the van.

While sixteen-year-old Bard was helping Sweetheart into the house and comforting her, Bo finished maneuvering vehicles and then began unloading the milk from the van. As I was putting away the mountains of hats, gloves and scarves, I hear a crash and a yell. I raced into the garage to see that one of the crates of milk had fallen out of the back of the van, shattering a glass bottle and breaking the lid off of a plastic one. Bo was beside himself with frustration.

At the same time all of this was going on, my dad was kneeling in the back of the van with his feet sticking out of the side, extracting The Baby from her carseat where she was groggily talking to him. I closed the front passenger door...on my dad's foot.

I'm not sure why these things happen in winter, but they seem to be very attracted to us. It made me think about how many things could go wrong during the day and how blessed we are that these things were potential tragedies, not real ones. At church tonight, someone announced that in a nearby city a car had slid off the bridge and crashed through the guardrail into the river. They still had located neither the car nor the passengers. How horrible those people must have felt. How terribly frightened they must have been as they realized what was happening to them, to see that river rushing toward them just before impact and to feel the icy water close in around them. My prayers immediately went up for them.

I don't know why God spared Sweetheart tonight. A foot or two further, and we might be in serious mourning right this moment. But we're all safe, as a family. We're warm and alive and blessed to be so.

I don't know, either, what it is about winter that brings these challenges, but if they come to you, too, during this time of year, please be safe and count your blessings.

Peace to you.

::: from the green book :::

What a gorgeous day! Went to Ken and Andrea's to give him a check. He was taking down pool to give to Rs. Monet played with goats. Ken took us to the barn to see baby horses. Put Monet on one and rode him around a little. Showed us chickens, too.

Made peanut butter cookies (Bard made dough!). We had a picnic under the apple tree. Wedding spread sandwiches, pineapple, mandarin oranges, almonds, bananas, kiwis, chips and lemonade.

::: from the green book :::

It's about 6:30 AM. I checked the outdoor thermometer at about 6:15 and it was 40F. Looks like it's going to be a beautiful day. Wanita spent the night last night and has to be back by 8:00 AM this morning. The neighbors down the street are having an auction at 10:00 AM, so we'll go down for that. The ladies from Laura's church are having a lunch stand.

Ken, or his helper, put an outlet box on our pole for us. Bo ran extension cords to the cabin and we're now using the small refrigerator my dad bought years ago but has never used. It was bittersweet bringing it here, because we are now officially "on the grid." I kind of feel like I've been defeated, or at least assimilated. I guess, somewhere in my idealistic mind, I was hoping to find a way around electricity. Maybe that as a tactile way of showing my independence.

(next paragraph destroyed: water damage to the green book)

I had a dream last night that J asked us when we were moving in. In my dream, I felt like it was a trap. I felt like he wanted me to stay in Akron but was issuing a challenge, like basically saying, "You said you'd move in when your lane was done and when you had a fridge. So, when are ya movin' in? Huh? Huh?" I was looking right at his face and his head was huge. I didn't know what to say. My answer, now that I think about it, should ahve been, "Every day. Little by little."

It's funny how I compartmentalize (is that a word? We need a dictionary here!) things. I have a fridge now. But it's not "big enough." It should be big enough to hold all the things that "should" go in fridges: milk, yogurt, butter, jelly, mustard, eggs, meat, fruits and veggies, on and on. But here, for 7 months, I've struggled with... (rest of paragraph destroyed by water damage).

::: from the green book :::

Jerren, Colin and Maggie were Saturday. Went to Inventure Place and came to cabin. New beds are in the cabin. Love the Mission bed!

Bo's mom came Sunday morning, left Sunday afternoon. Planted 9 fruit trees Sunday, April 22nd. Sprayed some of the existing apple trees with copper, left 2 1/2 unsprayed (maybe 3 1/2?).

Planted Red Sails and Grand Rapids lettuce with radishes in second deep bed. Soil tested "neutral."

Lane is almost done. It's been graded and now needs gravel.

Dad was here yesterday and today. Richard loaned us John Deere tractor with option to buy.

Replaced thermocouple in water heater. Having hamburgers for dinner.

::: from the green book :::

It looks clear and birds are singing. Temp was 40F @ 7:00 AM. Forecast called for high in the 30s with snow flurries. Planted peas, white onions, and radishes on Sunday, April 8th. Planted blueberries, asparagus and rhubarb on April 14th. Got a lot of rain on 15th. Trying to plant lettuce but ran out of gas for Mantis then it rained. Will try to plant tomorrow (Tuesday).