The Greenhouse, continued

Immediately as I stepped from the van, I saw a dark-haired woman sporting sunglasses. She was standing beside a Gator, a sort of ATV for agriculture, and I called out a "hello." She returned with a very enthusiastic, "Hey! How are you?" As she removed her glasses, I recognized her as a woman I'd worked with at the cheesehouse.

"Well, hi! Is this your place?" I asked as I approached her.
"Ha! No! Oh, no. I just work here." She went on to tell me how she'd been fired from her other job and had known that she really needed to be in horitculture, anyway. She was much happier. I could tell. She looked much happier. After a bit of chit-chat, I told her I'd seen the sign that they were hiring and wondered who I would talk to.

"That'd be Joannie. She's around here somewhere..." and I followed her off to be there when she located Joannie.

Inside the greenhouse, it was beautiful chaos. Marching rows of flats, not yet blooming, created a sense of order and organization. Baskets and buckets of garden accents not yet set out for display dotted the floor and every possible surface. Birdhouses, garden tools, primary-colored clogs and empty vessels for every shape and size competed for my attention. A few steps beyond the entrance, a miniature fairy garden about the size of a small room sat contentedly, sprouted soft tufts of mosses and tiny ivies.

Joannie approached, a pleasant-looking woman who has the appearance of someone who works very hard. I introduced myself. "I saw that you're looking for help. I stopped to find out what you need." She nodded, paused to think a minute, and then said, "What are you looking for? What kind of work do you want to do?"

I told her that I'm a stay-at-home mom, that I have a sixteen-year-old daughter who is interested in botany and horiculture who would also be interested in working, and that I'm pretty flexible with my hours, now that Summer is approaching and our regular activities are tapering off.

Joannie explained to me what she needed, and then she said, "Can you come, like, tomorrow? I have a huge truck coming in full of plants and I need as many people as I can get to help." I thought for a moment, checking my mental calendar, and then I nodded. "I think I can do that...Yeah. We can do that." Her face visibly lifted.

"Oh, great! I have to tell you, I just got off the phone with my friend this morning and I said, 'Please, if you pray this morning, pray that God will send me a couple of new helpers.' I've had people come in to apply, but I just didn't feel right about them. I didn't feel comfortable. This is wonderful! Well, when you come tomorrow morning, we'll talk more about the other possibilities."

And with that, I shook her hand and went excitedly on my way.

The Greenhouse

On Wednesday night, Bo and I talked about our finances. It wasn't a pleasant conversation, by any means. Bottom line--too many expenses, not enough money. Though I try to bring in enough money to pay for piano lessons and other classes by taking various Amish driving jobs and miscelleneous tasks, growing our own food, shopping thrift stores, raising rabbits to sell and chickens and turkeys to eat, buying food in bulk and cutting corners where we can, we're still, basically, a single-income family struggling to make ends meet.

I offered to get a job at Stuff*Mart. They'd hire me instantly, I'm sure. Bo said he didn't like the idea, but he wasn't going to say "no." Specifically, he said, "I'm not going to say 'no' to God." I thought this was an odd comment, but I held it in my heart.

Yesterday morning, I prayed about our situation. If God could just give me something I could do that I would enjoy, something that would be flexible and keep me close to my family, something that I could do that could take some of the pressure off of my husband and, therefore, take a lot of pressure from me, I would be very grateful.

And then I took Bard to her Biology class.

On the way, I passed my favorite greenhouse. As usual, I checked the sign to see if she was open yet, and saw a small sign announcing, "Opening soon!" On the same sign was written, "Now Hiring."

It took me a few minutes to even consider the option. But as the thought of working there niggle at my brain, it just sounded better and better. Bard has mentioned that she might like to go into botany or horticulture. I love planting, gardening and learning. Maybe the two of us could work together? Maybe Bard could earn enough money to pay for her New England trip or the acting camp she's really been hoping to go to, but we haven't had the money.

I didn't even mention it to Bard. I just dropped her off, went back to the greenhouse, and stepped out of my van...

Today =...

• Nursing The Baby.
• Not making my bed.
• Cleaning the house.
• An argument with Bard.
• Cleaning the house.
• An argument with Monet.
• More cleaning.
• A shower. I could have stayed in there all day.
• Music appreciation class with Mr. L. We studied Hayden. Next week, Amadeus.
• Fresh pineapple for lunch.
• Taking Bard's friends home after class.
• Cleaning rabbit habitats.
• Cleaning duckling and turkey poult boxes.
• Feeding chickens and bringing in ten beautiful eggs. One of them was blue.
• A trip to the bluebird houses. No bluebirds. I had to evict an intruder, however.
• Pizza with my girlies.
• A trip to the library.
• A discussion with my dear Bo about barnyards and the need for better arrangements.
• Me feeling guilty about said discussion.
• A discussion about my feeling guilty about our discussion.
• Nursing The Baby.
• A trip to the mailbox. Nothing for me. Drat.
• Watering and thinning seedlings.
• Dead kittens. It was mama cat's first litter.
• Reading a bit of my current fiction fix, The Lovely Bones.
• Pruning the cherry tree and giving branches to the bunnies.
• Cuddling with my favorite bunny.
• A walk with Bo at dusk. Country dirt road, our little dog running ahead, a large oak tree, some curious horses, a quick chat with the neighbors, return under the stars.
• Realizing that beauty is illogical.
• Wondering if everything will be okay.
• Realizing that asking God for a sign doesn't mean that a shooting star will appear before my eyes.
• Bo and Houding making rabbit hutches.
• Poring over library books.
• A phone call from my mother-in-law.
• The last of the Breyers Butter Pecan, right out of the carton...
• Followed by dinner. Hamburgers with no buns and with A1 sauce.
• Sharing a glass of grape juice with Bo.
• And here we are.

Red Letter Day!

Not only is this a BEAUTIFUL Spring day, but I got some very coolio things in the mail, too. I LOVE getting mail! It's my favorite! Even if I know that I'm going to be getting the thing, like when it's something I ordered, I'm so excited to see that white package sitting on top of my mailbox when I come home from a day of errands that I get giddy. Because we share a mailbox with our neighbors, usually the bulk of the mail is for someone else. I've asked to be removed from most mailing lists because it's just junk that piles up and catalogs that make me greedy.

But today. Oh, TODAY! I approached the mailbox and saw a package perched atop my mailbox and when I looked at it, it was actually FOR ME! I was SO excited! And I knew that it was one of the teapots I had ordered for myself for my birthday!

But, oh happy day, there was MORE! I also received a BEAUTIFUL, brand new hardback copy of Stephen King on Writing that I scored on PaperBackSwap (if you join, be sure to refer to me, as I'll get credits for more awesome books! H.T. to Impromptu-mom). I would never have purchased this book for myself, especially since it's $25.00 brand new, but because I've been watching thrift stores and picking up books from PaperBackSwap, this book cost me little more than the price of media mail. YESSSSS!

AND there's MORE! I also received another birthday gift I bought for myself, my copy of Jason Harrod's newest CD, Bright As You. Jason is one of my favorite indie artists, intelligent and lyrical, and I was way-mobie excited when I saw he had a new release. You can hear a couple MP3s here.

AND, I was able to plant my sugar snap peas, regular peas, cilantro, lettuces and scallions today in my kitchen garden, thanks to the dear men in my life who spent hours tilling and turning the dirt to make it ready for me. I now have two large garden spots as well as my little kitchen garden, and my seedlings are growing like...well, not quite like *weeds,* but like healthy seedlings, just waiting for the day for the "last frost" to be over and done with.

AND (oh, it's just too much, isn't it?) our hens have started laying, so I was able to collect a dozen eggs between yesterday and today. When I finish with this post, I hope to order a few more Aracuana chicks, as well as some turkeys, Indian Runner ducks and broilers.

The perennials in the front garden are thriving, the chives are high, the sage has returned, and I'm so glad that SPRING is HERE!

Oh happy, happy DAY!

The Easter Basket String Maze

Every year, we hide the children's Easter baskets, but we try to do something a bit different each time. Sometimes it's just a matter of finding clever places to hide them. Sometimes we hide them outside, in the trees or in the woods. Last year, we had the children find their baskets treasure-hunt style, with clues leading each to their own basket.

This year, I decided to go with an idea I saw in Family Fun magazine while sitting in the doctor's waiting room.

After church, Bo hid all of the eggs and then we hid the baskets. Each basket was then attached to a piece of yarn and wound around the whole first floor and, in some cases, through the dog door and out onto the porch, then back inside again. About half-way through the winding, we switched yarn color. Then we wound the strings around the stair railings and up the stairs, where the children were waiting in their rooms. We handed each one their string and gave a few rules--no running, no disturbing anyone else's string, no looking for the basket without using the string, and you must have your picture taken with your basket before you tear it apart.

It was a blast. The children seemed to appreciate the challenge, and they really had to work to find their baskets.

I love fun traditions!

Bard's Basket

Houdin's Basket

Monet's Basket

Sweetheart's Basket

He is Risen

I have no wit, no words, no tears;
My heart within me like a stone
Is numb'd too much for hopes or fears;
Look right, look left, I dwell alone;
I lift mine eyes, but dimm'd with grief
No everlasting hills I see;
My life is in the falling leaf:
O Jesus, quicken me.

My life is like a faded leaf,
My harvest dwindled to a husk:
Truly my life is void and brief
And tedious in the barren dusk;
My life is like a frozen thing,
No bud nor greenness can I see:
Yet rise it shall--the sap of Spring;
O Jesus, rise in me.

My life is like a broken bowl,
A broken bowl that cannot hold
One drop of water for my soul
Or cordial in the searching cold;
Cast in the fire the perish'd thing;
Melt and remould it, till it be
A royal cup for Him, my King:
O Jesus, drink of me.

Christina Rossetti

Birthday Girl

Monet, the artiste

Ten-year-old Monet loves to draw more than just about anything else in the whole world. I do believe he has a gift. The imagination and the detail always amaze me. I don't know the story to this drawing because I just found it lying on the table, but I thought it was too cool to not post. He has a thing for pirates; his room has a pirate-y theme and his dad made him a way-mobie cool treasure chest for Christmas one year. I love the skeleton. So much personality!

In Honor of my Three Year Blogiversary

I began blogging three years ago tomorrow. Three whole years. Sheesh. And my mama told me I'd never amount to anything. Ha!

In honor of my three year blogiversary, I'm going to bless you with a blast from the past.

This, in all of its amateur glory, was my very second blog entry. It was followed shortly after by a description of my outdoor bathtub back in our Little House in the Big Woods days.

Enjoy.

..oOo^**^oOo..oOo^**^oOo..oOo^**^oOo...

Infection

Blogging.

It's amazing to me. I can see why people think it's the revolution of the writing trade. Basically, I can write an entire book--my memoirs--about my adventures in homeschooling, parenting, knitting, writing, birdwatching...whatever I want, and it's here for all the world to see. Published. When I was in high school, my journalism teacher said you can call yourself a "published" author if you've had anything submitted for mass human consumption. How many published authors there must be with the advent of the web! Has the definition of a published author changed?

Well, I will begin my life as a published author (according to my journalism teacher's definition) by writing my memoirs of my life as a homeschooling parent. And to begin, I'll start with some background.

I can't really tell you exactly why I decided to homeschool my children. What I do remember is that I read an article about a homeschooling family when I was in high school. I don't know who it was, but I do remember that they were being given a hard time and, if memory serves me correctly, actually had their children taken from them due to "truancy." This seemed to me very radical and unfair. After all, the parents seemed to be on the right track. They wanted to give their children an excellent education. They seemed intelligent, caring, attentive. They certainly didn't seem like the kind of parents who would just allow their children to permanently play hooky from school. I guess, upon the reading of that article, a seed was planted.

High school, to me, wasn't necessarily completely unpleasant. However, I did lack motivation in certain areas, mostly because the teachers in those areas also lacked motivation. I don't think it's a mistake that my most passionate teachers were my language arts teachers. Mrs. Wise had introduced some of the most fantastic literature to me in the fourth grade--The Red Badge of Courage, A Wrinkle in Time (which I listened to on a borrowed library phonograph record over and over every night), and so many others. In seventh grade, Mrs. Jones introduced me to Eleanor Rigby. I remember being fascinated that she kept her face in a jar by the door.Who was it for? My four favorite teachers in high school were Miss Gradwell (speech), Mrs. George (journalism and English), Mrs. Berry (English Lit) and Mrs. Hunt (Humanities), all language arts teachers. Years later, I would see Mrs. Hunt in the mall and swell with pride as she nodded approvingly at my homeschooled children. I had the chance to tell her just how much her love of literature had meant to me and how she had always inspired me to learn more. I would also have a chance to see Miss Gradwell again, watching in amazement as she received a writer's award at a seminar I had attended on just a whim. Judy Gradwell had endured and conquered breast cancer and decided to use her love for words to share her struggle with other people.

I'm not saying that I homeschooled because I loved language arts.

Necessarily.

What I am saying is that I recognized that a love of learning was contagious. It was contracted by those who also had a love of learning.

I wanted to infect my own children.

My Ongoing Birthday Celebration and Pure Evil

I do believe, and I say this much to my delight, that this has been my most widely recognized birthday. Woohoo! I received cards from each of my in-laws, including two in-the-mail cards, two in-the-e-mail-box cards, and one video of my gift from my mother-in-law who lives oh-so-far-away (how many more dashes can I fit into this filled-with-dashes sentence?). I received a homemade card from Sweetheart and another from Monet, another in-the-mailbox card from my dear friend P. and yes another in-the-e-mail-box from my dear friend Tina. What a blessed woman I am!

On the actual day of my birth, the children and I took our bunnies to auction. Sweetheart and Monet made $25.00 on the sale, and I picked up a couple of bunnies for myself to raise--three sweet mini-rex rabbits, two does and a buck. I bid on a pair of ferrets as well, but the bidding simply ran too high, and I was unsure of their health.

When we returned from the auction, it was time to head into town to pick Bard up from her last Algebra class, where her Algebra teacher and daughters sang Happy Birthday to me, handing me three slices of Treatza Pizza from Dairy Queen. YUM!

And then, it was off to stock up on milk from our favorite farmer. On the way, we dropped off a bunny cage that we'd borrowed from a friend while transporting Brutus, our newest mini-lop, to his new home: our living room. While there, friends Sara and Laura serenaded me with loverly birthday greetings.

After that, it was back home to get ready for Irish Step classes, which were fast-paced and high-energy. Whew!

What I love: extended birthdays. Yesterday, after music appreciation class, Bard and I went thrift store shopping and found, appropriately, a bunch of poetry books in honor of National Poetry Month. We've been lacking in good poetry collections, and I've surely made up for it now, with my thrift-store and PaperBackSwap finds.

And then, Bard took me to a movie! We saw Jon Heder, Rob Scheider and David Spade in The Benchwarmers. Yes, I thought it was funny, but don't take my word for it. Those three guys just know how to make me laugh. We ate half-a-bag of buttered popcorn. More on that later.

After that, we drooled over pet supplies and cute little animals at Petco, where I bought some new water bottles for our rats and covers for our rabbit tanks.

And, finally, we perused the used bookstore, where I found Thornton Burgess's Bird Book and Animal Tales (a later printing of Animal Stories, which was there, too, but was $25.00!), and Minn of the Mississippi, soft cover, but it's our second copy. These are all books I've been looking for forever! The Burgess books will be presented to Sweetheart today...her birthday!

When we arrived home, the plan was for Bo to take me to a movie and out to dinner, but as I unpacked my goodies, I found myself feeling worse and worse. My stomach was in knots, I felt feverish, and every movement or smell made me want to vomit.

Buttered popcorn.

It's evil, I tell you. Pure evil.

I haven't eaten movie theater popcorn or drank pop in months, aside from the one Dr. Pepper I allowed myself for my birthday treat. That popcorn was actually difficult to choke down after the first handful, but I found myself reaching into the bag even after I was sure I couldn't eat another kernel.

While we were walking through the pet store, my stomach began a strange, unearthly gurgling. And by the time I got home, I was extremely repentent of the very moment I purchased the stuff.

While I suffered in my bedroom, struggling to sleep and waiting for the Zantac to work (it's my dad's--I rarely take ANYTHING, so I was quite desperate), Sweetheart called from the other side of the door, "Are you sure the popcorn wasn't poisoned?"

I uttered to myself, "I know it was. Oh, boy, do I know it was..."

Today, I feel much better and can't wait to begin Sweetheart's birthday celebration.

Woohoo for birthdays!

Yeah, Bard!

I would be remiss if I failed to applaud Bard, she who has insisted for fifteen years that she's bad at math, for completing her Algebra course. AND, I would be even more remiss if I failed to note that she received...

...drum roll please...

100% on her final test!

YES!

Way to go, Bard!

Happy Birthday to Me

For those who have asked, yes, I am still alive.

And as of right...about...now, I've been alive for 37 years. Happy Birthday to Me and all that pink icing stuff!

For one of my birthday gifts to myself, I'm going to write a blog entry. Woohoo!

Things have been good and busy here on the hilltop above the thicket. I've been greatly enjoying my weekly thrift store shopping. Last week, I scored--get this--a BRAND NEW, still in-the-box, SEALED Atari game system from 1978! For FIVE BUCKS! Though I wanted very badly to open it and relive my childhood, I sold it on ebay, and I can't even dare tell you what it sold for. Let's just say we'll be taking a sizeable chunk out of a debt this week. Thank you, ebay and my favorite thrift store.

I also found a Coach leather duffle, which is hanging around on ebay, too, but hasn't invited even a nibble. I'm tempted to keep it, since it was only a buck. But if it sells, I can think of things I'd rather use the money for than a leather duffle. Same with the brand new Doc Martens that fit no one in my family (size seven, anyone?) but that I couldn't pass up for $1.00.

I've been collecting nostalgic linens and embroidery pieces, too. The thrift store near us sells most of their things for under $2.00, so I've found Hollie Hobbie, Peanuts Gang and The Empire Strikes Back sheets for a song. I often find embroidered pieces for 25 cents and have found some cutie-patootie embroidery patterns, too.

And that's way-mobie cool, because I've been working on my own embroidery projects, thanks to the help of The Happy Housewife. She came over for a morning with her dear little Peanut and showed me some basic embroidery stitches so I could work on this project, by the incredibly talented Bella Dia, for Sweetheart's birthday, which is coming up soon, soon, soon (how could I forget? She reminds me just about, oh, every forty-three seconds). I actually completed the cutsie little birthday project! And when I find my camera, I'll try posting a picture of it.

No segue here. My darlingest husand in the whole wide world is very not good at birthdays. They seem to sneak up on him, and he never has money when he should, and he has a tendency to get sick or called away to work on my birthday. Huff. Puff. Pout. Grumble. So, I made myself a list of what I want for my birthday so I'll know what to get myself (kitchen shears, a hamburger patty maker, a new iron and ironing board, measuring spoons and cups, a pie server--aren't I boringly domestic? Gag). I pulled a bunch of magazine subscription cards from my favorite glossy drool-books last time I was at Stuff*Mart. Today, I handed them to my dear Bo, so all he has to do is close his eyes, pick one, fill it out, stick it in the mailbox and smile.

I bought myself this and this to add to a collection I started after finding a few pieces at a yard sale for a quarter and falling in love. I still need to get most of the pieces, which I hope to do over time, since they are listed at replacements. I just think they're S-O-O cute and would make such wonderful garden party dishes for my girlies and I. Cucumber and watercress sandwiches under the blossoming apple trees. Ah, yes. Perhaps Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy will join us?

Speaking of gardens, that brings me to the next item on the birthday list I made for myself. Garden seeds and peat pots. While the older children were singing their little hearts out at choir, I trekked to the garden center with Sweetheart and The Baby and we snatched up a fistful of wonderful seeds! Here's what we bought, in additon to the tomatoes, allysum, peppers, watermelons, marigolds and various herbs I started on Friday and the slew of vegetable seeds that are waiting for the warmer weather, when they'll be nestled beneath the ground and awakened from their slumber:

Cress
Salad Scallions
Spinach
Buttercrunch Lettuce
Cilantro (ooh! I can just hear that guacamole calling me!)
Black-Seeded Simpson Lettuce
Bright Lights Rainbow Swiss Chard
Green Peas and
Sugar Peas

AND, one I'm super excited about, Vanilla Berry Nasturtiums. I LOVE nasturtiums. I think they're probably my favorite flower, with their beautiful leaves and fancy flowers and their very, very yummy radish-y taste. I hope to fill some hanging baskets with different goodies this year, and trailing nasturtiums will be among them.

I also bought packs of seeds for each of the kids for their Easter baskets. Shhh! Don't tell them!

I hope to begin this summer's Kitchen Garden tomorrow or Wednesday, and then rent a tiller for the weekend to get the main garden going. I'm finally going to dig in (HA!) and plant some asparagus, garlic and horseradish, onions and I hope to put in some strawberries, blueberries and raspberries, too. Bard wants to make another sunflower house, like we did a few years ago, and she also wants "a small plot of land" for herself. She's made a list of the flowers she wants to plant, and I can't wait to see her do it!

It helps and encourages that I can see my chives, and my hollyhocks, and my bronze fennel, and lots of other happy plants emerging from the ground. I didn't kill them! They live!

No segue here, either. I also plan to buy myself something from this to add to my collection and I'm lobbying hard for Bo to help me make a set of bookshelves, because I've been collecting some great thrift-store and PaperBackSwap books (thanks H.H!). Today, I scored a hardback copy of Stephen King's On Writing. Woot!

Bard is very excited about the fact that tomorrow is her last day of Algebra class and she completed the textbook! Yeah, Bard! She'll be plugging ahead with AlgebraII through the summer so that she can prepare for the PSAT in the Fall.

I've been greatly enjoying the newest addition to my kitchen family, my contact grill. Think George Foreman but without the name or the price. It's a GE with removeable grills, and I have just been LOVING it. We've made hamburgers and marinated chicken and steaks and grilled veggies and paninis and gourment grilled cheese sandwiches on sourdough bread. Oh, yummy yum yum yum.

And we've been keeping busy with DANCING! Bard, Houdin, Monet, Sweetheart and I have been hopping away at Irish Step Dance classes every week, and have been to several square and contra dances in the past couple of weeks. We've been so glad to have a few of Bard's friends along when we've gone. Gotta dance!

Back to the birthday thing. Bard is planning to take me to a movie, bookstore and lunch on Wednesday in honor of my birthday. We're hoping to see The Benchwarmers with Jon Heder, Rob Schneider and David Spade, though I'm open to suggestions.

Well, that about does it, in some strange, stream-of-consciousness, random kind of way.

Happy Birthday to ME!

The Pies

"I'll carry the pies," he said.

"I can get them," I countered.

"Oh, no, you can't..." the two homemade cherry pies sat firmly in the palms of his hands.

"How will I take them into the bake sale building once I get there if you won't let me carry them?"

Joe's wife, Edna, laughed. "Give her the pies."

Edna makes some of the very best pies in the world. She bakes incredible red raspberry pies from raspberries that she deseeds herself. And beautiful! You've likely never seen pies so lovely.

So I can understand Joe's protectiveness. And since the pies were going to a benefit sale for an Amish lady who has leukemia, Joe wanted them to arrive in perfect shape, to bring the most money for the sale. In the end, I carried the pies, and Joe, outfitted with his black hat and suspenders, carried the box of home-baked bread to my van.

I feel particularly self-conscious around my Amish neighbors. I can't tell you exactly why, but I do. They're often very industrious, and I've heard stories of clean houses being declared "filthy" by an Amish housewife, so I know that my filthy van must get even harsher criticism. But living in the country and regularly driving back roads, my van is more often brown than blue. It's important to be careful when you climb in, or your knees might be coated in mud.

I transported the cherry pies with the greatest attention to their welfare. I drove carefully, occasionally looking back to be sure they were alright. It was a short drive. They survived.

As I approached the building where the benefit sale was to be held, a steady stream of black hats, black pants, black jackets and white shirts accompanied an equally steady stream of solid-colored dresses peeking from the bottoms of black coats and white bonnets bobbed along one after another.

I pulled my blue-brown van into the gravel lot, met by the stares of dozens of Amish women who were peering out of the building's windows. I had the only motorized vehicle. All around me were spotless black buggies. Spotless.

I pulled a box of bread from the back of the van, keenly aware that they were aware that I was different. When attending an Amish function, we "English" are in the minority. It's an odd feeling, and because of their common language, it's easy to feel out-of-place amidst the chatter of Dutch words.

I try not to feel intimidated in these situations. I try to just pretend I know exactly what I'm doing, that I belong exactly where I am. I boldly delivered the box of bread to the group of Amish ladies who were laying out table after table after table of baked goods. Cookies, brownies, breads, cakes, fry pies, muffins, and pies of every flavor. On the way back to the van, I silently chided myself for not bringing any money, but since I've been trying to keep the goodies out of the house, I silently applauded myself, too.

I leaned in and pulled the box of breads and one of the cherry pies toward me. The other pie sat on the floor of the van, next to the box. I debated. Do I try to pull it out now? Do I place it in the box on top of the breads? Or do I just come back for it? I checked out the box. Surely there was room for another pie. I slid it into place among the wheat breads and backed away from the van.

As soon as I had the box out of the van, and before I realized what was happening, the strong wind swept up under the pan and lifted the pie from the box. The lid flew across the parking lot and the pie landed.

Splat.

Upside down on the gravel.

Right in the middle of that sea of black hats, black jackets, black shoes, black coats, white bonnets, solid dresses and Dutch words.

Splat.

I stifled a scream. I couldn't believe it. I stood staring at the pie as it oozed over the stones. A young Amish girl came from the building and silently rescued the other box as I ran for the lid that had flown across the gravel lot. Taking the lid, which had the hand-printed word, "CHERRY" on the top, I knelt down in the wind and rain, next to my blue-brown van and scooped up the pie, the sea of black and white and blue and violet and green parting around me, tsking. "What a shame," one woman was saying. Bits of gravel stuck to the once beautiful pie, large pieces of stone scooped up along with the tender crust and bright red cherries.

I slid the ruined pie back into the back of my van, climbed in and headed home.

Grey

Today=Tired and Grumpy.

I don't know what's up. Perhaps it's the weather, which is grey and cold and rainy. Whatever the reason, I feel like hibernating. Completely. I want to crawl into bed and sleep for God-knows-how-long.

And it would probably be best for everyone. My nerves are on edge, and things just aren't working out well today. A friend of ours, a fellow gardener and exotic chicken breeder, died of cancer last Wednesday and the calling hours are tonight. In a half-hour, actually. Because of a mix-up with Bo's schedule, we aren't going to make it there on time, and that has me stressed out. Not only do we have to go to an unpleasant event, but I also have to get five kids, plus myself, ready to go to an unpleasant event.

The wind blew the trash cans over, and my dad, instead of seeing the problem and just taking care of it, came in and announced it, placing the responsibility of cleaning it up on his grandchildren. I guess I'd had about enough today, so I blew up at him. He very easily could have just picked up the bags of trash and the cans, but he "couldn't" because he was "driving the van." "I'm not into picking up trash in fifty-mile-an-hour winds," he said. Sigh.

The phones weren't working because of a glitch in the beginning part of the installation of our new phone system. Didn't affect me too much, but my dad was having a nervous breakdown over it. Turns out he had a doc. appointment but didn't know when, and since the phones were out, he couldn't call the office. It was today at 2:00. He missed it. I feel responsible, but I don't know why.

Surprisingly, things have been going fairly well for the past week or so, but for some reason, today just...isn't. And this is when I choose to write. Of course.

Someone's whining. Someone's crying. It's time for me to intervene.

Rain, rain, go away.

Delicious Lunch

We just had the most yummy lunch, and as we were eating, I was struck by the beauty of the scene, The Baby still in her pajamas eating cauliflower, my favorite earthenware bowls, tall glasses of raw milk, my healthy family all around me. It was lovely! The Baby had just declared, "I love corn, and chicken, and broccoli (meaning the cauliflower) and potatoes, and milk!" I just had to get the camera and take a shot.

And an update on the keyboard. My dear Bo bought me a new one. :-) It's so much quieter than my old one!

I hope your day is blessed with beauty.

After the Square Dance...