Clean.

Gratitude.

What an incredible, inspiring, exhausting day.

Tonight I am in the quiet space of my thoughts, feeling a whole lot of love, gratitude and deep appreciation.

: : For country dreams and for putting in our offer on the land that will someday be our farm. Our farm! We'll know more in a few days but we're beyond hopeful.

: : For being healthy and whole and holding my family close tonight. I will never take this for granted.

: : For a community that shows up in force to help each other, be it cooking a meal, stoking the fire, or nursing someone else's baby. An afternoon of phone calls and emails for a mama and baby in need and I am amazed at the souls that surround me. This is community. Thank you Viroqua mamas for being amazing beyond words and sharing so much of yourselves.

: : For the sweet vignettes (messes?) that my children leave around the house, reminding me always that my house may not be tidy but it's full of creativity, magic, and love.

: : and For the simple pleasure of this glass of wine. Which I daresay I earned today. The dishes can wait until tomorrow.

Goodnight friends. Take care of each other. We're the best thing we've got.

Love,
Rachel

 

A Quilt Auction.

Birds

People

Colors

Homes

The rural corner of Wisconsin where I hail from, Vernon County, is the second poorest of the 72 counties in the state. Poor in dollars, maybe. But not in creativity, vision, magic, or art. In those I suspect we'd come out on top, per-capita. 

Take these quilts. They are fantastic, if I say so myself.

Handmade for the Viroqua Harvest Moon Celebration (I blogged about that experience here), the quilts were crafted by four groups of amazing, artistic, passionate women. The quilts represent weeks of creative collaborative work.

They also provide a bit of artistic parade fund-raising.

All four quilts are all being auctioned off in a silent auction at Ewetopia, our local yarn shop. All proceeds will go to support the future of the parade for years to come. For those of you with the means, will you join us? The starting bid is $200 on each quilt. The sale of these quilts will really help make the parade happen in the coming years. Considering the time that went into each, that's a steal for starting bids. LuSa Organics bid on one to hang as art in our new production space. I'll let you know if we win!

As for sizes, a call to Ewetopia can answer your questions. Place a bid by phone (Ewetopia Fiber Shop: 608-637-3443) or email (info@ewetopiafibershop.com). Quilts will be delivered to the winning bidder in the coming weeks.

Have a blessed weekend, everyone.

Love,
Rachel

P.S. In case you were wondering, I made the wren (bottom left) and bluebird on prayer flags (top right) on the bird quilt.

 

Small Town Magic.

 

 

 

Viroqua. I love you.

Our little town of 4,500 is unlike any other small town - in Wisconsin if not the world. Our quiet agricultural community holds a mix of people. There is the old Viroqua - the real, honest, rural folks you'd expect to find in any sleepy country town. But then there are the newcomers. The kind of people you're more likely to find in artistic corners of hip cities rather than out here in the sticks.

The "new" Viroqua community (which we joined five years ago) has come here for just that - community. A safe, quiet place to raise our families while not feeling like outsiders. I live in a small town, and yet I blend. I'm normal here. After being rural for most of my adult life I find this amazing.

Viroqua has an established Waldorf grade school, a student-run Waldorf high school, a charter high school, a new Montessori pre-school, and a vibrant homeschooling community. I don't know many cities (much less small towns) with so many options within just a few city blocks. Add to that the greatest concentration of organic family farms in the country, and we've got a good thing going here. Viroqua also boasts a vibrant natural foods coop and several fantastic local shops peppering our Main street.

Viroqua is brimming with creative free spirits from musicians and viusal artists to puppeteers, a circus performer or two, and those focused on spoken word. Last year some of these creative minds dreamt of and created Viroqua's first Harvest Moon Celebration. Looking around before the parade began last year I was amazed and the talent this little town brought forth. The quality of the giant puppets, the creativity of the story, the presentation.

This year it was even better. The giant puppets wove down Main Street spinning a story that connects us all - both Viroqua's locals and her many newcomers. This year's story was that of the grandmother. The story from birth to death, of creation and dreams, and hope.  And of course that the event featured quilting and knitting elevated the whole day for me!

As for the expectation of candy being thrown to observers, our town opted for local organic squash (rolled, not thrown) and flower seeds. Awesome. As I looked over the faces in the park during the post-parade performance, I saw the faces that make this place home. This is my community. This is my home. This is our story.

Thank you, Viroqua, for being this place. For being the home where I fit in in every way, and where I couldn't be happier to raise my kids and someday grow old. Thanks for bring art and magic to our sleepy little town.

A day out of time and place.

I am Norwegian. And German. And Russian. And dozens of other European descents (including "Italian Gypsy" if you asked my Grandma Lee). But mostly I've always felt Norwegian. The Norwegian stories were the stories I heard often as a child. The Norwegian spinning wheel (belonging to my great-great-grandma, made by my great-great-grandpa) sits next to my modern spinning wheel in my living room. Holidays since childhood have brimmed with Norwegian foods and customs, and I, personally, am in charge of lefse (yes, me, gluten free and all) for my entire family. I am Norwegian. Even if it is less than 1/2 of my blood.

This weekend we headed to a nearby Norwegian heritage center for a fall celebration, the "Threshing Bee". Lefse. Brown cheese. Threshing. Flailing. Rope-making. Grain-grinding. This place, suspended in time and space, feels somehow like coming home. And while we may already know how to blacksmith and make butter and cheese and keep animals, it's still a perfectly magical day brimming with wide-eyed learning. We feel normal here in some strange lost-in-time way.

Summer. Here.

 

  

The Driftless, where we live, is an ancient, fragile place. Missed by the many glaciers that rounded the rocks and leveled the mountains that once covered much of the state, The Driftless stands much as it did before the ice age. Geologically anyway. We are surrounded by eroded mountains, the Ocooch Mountains, and crystal-studded rocks line every creek. There are sinkholes and caves peppering the land. Beneath the city of Viroqua lies a vast cave, it's open mouth standing in a park in the center of town.

The earth here is delicate.

The Driftless region flooded once in the 1950's. And once more in the 1970's. All the old timers remember them both in surprising details. But In the past five years the 100 year floods have come annually. Each year since we arrived in the Driftless the floods have raced down these creeks each summer, carving new paths in the hillsides and stranding many of our friends in their country homes.

Because of the nature of the landscape each flood changes what we see in many of our favorite places. The swimming hole pictured above did not exist until two weeks ago. The latest flood arrived in the night. It was a Sunday, two weeks ago. And my friend who lives on this creek woke in the middle of the night to a specific sound of rain on roof that only means a flood. She jumped out of bed and took care of what she could, and then surrendered to the inevitable. The rains would fall. By morning her driveway bridge over the creek (normally 10+ feet above the water) was submerged, again, a huge tree wedged between its supports, and the raging waters carved out this former hillside into a 12 foot rock wall.

Each summer we find a new place to swim. The old beaches are washed away by the latest flood, and new beaches appear when the water goes down. This year we will swim here week after week. The water is clean and icy cold, the floor is bedrock, and the sand it gold.

In my mind it is the counter-point to each flood. We go back to the creeks. We baptise ourselves in the Driftless. We step into that once wild and dangerous water - our expression of trust. We make peace again.

We don't bring many toys to the river because we don't need them. There are rocks. Crystals. Stick boats. So we get to know the rivers and creeks again, in their new context and we play. We make castles. Dams. Harbors. And at the end of the day, tired and cool despite the 100 F temperatures we say goodbye and hope that our newly discovered beaches will last until the end of summer.

Organic Garden Starts.

Yesterday the kids and I rendezvoused with friends at our favorite foraging spot. We got as far as the river and then swam and splashed until our (picnic) lunch time. Then my foraging intentions were tossed to the wind and replaced with plans for a countryside search for a fabled organic Amish greenhouse jammed with the most healthy, happy garden starts you can imagine. Because foraging is wonderful, but gardening is too.

And since most of the starts that I planted got subsequently frozen and then fried in the greenhouse during our wild weather swings these past few weeks I needed a few replacements.

And we found the greenhouse! The beautiful starts were ridiculously prices (just $1.50 for a four-pack of heirloom tomato starts for example) and Mary gave free four-packs for all the kids. The conversation was inspiring, and I brought home more plants than I think I can fit in my new beds. That's spring for me - over zealous enthusiasm.

Mary, the farmer we met, also a soapmaker (as am I) and by the time we got to talking soap the kids and I ended up in her house looking at soap molds and talking herbs, plant medicine, hand quilting, black walnut cracking, and product marketing. What a wonderful lesson in the oneness of us all!

Such a treat to head to her farm for veggies and end up finding a kindred spirit and making a new friend. I look forward to connecting with her again.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

P.S. I am waiting on Chapter Four of Simplicity Parenting (Rhythm) until next week. A quick survey of folks in our Facebook group told me that I'm not the only one who fell behind on reading this sun-soaked week!

Have a great weekend friends.

Love,

Rachel

Loving Winter.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 A quick aside before today's post: I'm completely floored by your words over the past few days to Friday's post. You are a wise community of mamas. Thank you for sharing that wisdom. Over and over you gave me goosebumps with the resonance of your words. ~ Rachel

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

We live here. In Wisconsin. Let's enjoy it, shall we? Winter is for real here in the Kickapoo Valley. No, it isn't Northern Minnesota, but it's pretty darn cold. And frankly, I've fallen out of love with winter recently. Blame my cold house or my poor quality long johns or the demise of my favorite pair of winter boots, but winter has been, well... cold for me lately.

This weekend we headed out to a winter festival at a nerby 8,000 acre reserve. I attempted a last minute bail but the kids insisted. So we headed off to the woods, and into the arms of our amazing community. Goodness I love it here. Outside all day in the cold and the snow, surrounded by some of the most real and loving people I've met in my life, I found myself actually liking winter. (Again.)

Thanks, Kickapoo Reserve.

Viroqua Harvest Moon Celebration.

Often people send me emails asking about Viroqua. Why did we choose to live here? What makes this place special? What is the magic exactly?

Let me dircet your attention to the photos and video below. This weekend was our first annual Harvest Moon Celebration. And it was phenomenal. I think it gives a good taste of who and what Viroqua is and why we've all moved here from our various corners of the world.

The kids and I were in the parade. We had a moment just before line up when we looked around and wondered who exactly would be watching us march. (Weren't we all in the parade?) But there were plenty of folks left to watch. And it was worth their while indeed.

Our clan was in the flower section, Sage with a ribbon streamer waving high and free (inspired by the friend with one here) and Lupine was a flower (not a lupine, but a flower anyway). One of my favorite ladies (who also happend to stand up in my wedding ten years ago) carried a glorious raining cloud umbrella and was a cloud herself. So I loanded her my dress. My wedding dress. So fun to see it worn again and for such a joyful day!

Not pictured? Well, the parade (since we were in it I couldn't shoot it). (But you can see a good part of it here - do watch for those rainclouds!) Also the fire dancers, belly dancers, hoopers, art vendors, giant puppet play, square dance and drum circle that went long into the night... and that's just off the top of my head. Oh, and the general joyful mahem that decended upon our little town and made me laugh out loud and call out "I love this place!" on more than one occasion.

Thanks Viroqua. I love you.

And with that, I am off. Heading south towards points unknown. I'll be back here and there as I find an internet connection and a few free moments to send you an update. As for our business, LuSa will hum along without me while Pete and the rest of our amazing team keeps it all rolling.

This weekend was a grand farewell indeed. I'll miss you all!

Love,

Rachel

Delicious Weekend

Because of some extra irons in the fire this week, our weekend was only one day long. Somehow it still seemed more rejuvenating than many three-day weekends we've enjoyed. We all found the time to eat well, sleep well, and play together. There was knitting, music-making, and gardening (and even napping for the grown ups). Here are some highlights:

Is the photo above enough said? Goodness. These are so good. Sally Fallon's soaked waffles, loosely interpreted. I've made these so often I don't actually know if I am following her recipe anymore. it's all by memory at this point. And fresh blueberries, whipped cream, and a drizzle of maple? This breakfast was over the top.

Due to a little bug that joined our family we were in need of some chicken soup this weekend too. I'm always looking for an excuse to make this soup. It is dreamy. Whole potatoes, big chunks of chicken, carrots, and corn in a gingery-limey-chicken stock. Served with raw onions just pulled from the garden. I can't get enough of this soup.

It's not a normal day it our house if someone isn't making a crafty mess. This weekend it was stamps, origami, and (surprisingly) Sage's new fixation with drawing dressing he wants to sew for his sister. (I'm not complaining. I'm way more into this phase than the new-machine-gun-designs phase.) He's so complex.

And our first family thrifting outing in ages. We walked in the rain down to the flea market to hunt for treasures. Though we came home with only a few bouncy balls, a Toddy, and an old suitcase, we had a great time together and even made it to down to the local second-hand book seller.

And tomorrow the kids and I are off for an adventure. I'll send your postcards from the road!

Love,
Rachel

The Kickapoo County Fair, and Musings on Fitting In.

Oh, how I love this fair. The kids tent, the face paints, the maple cotton candy, the fabulous organic food. And the friends, community, and speakers - the connection.

We spent eight hours there on Sunday. Eight. Laughing hard, hanging with some of our best friends (big and small), being inspired, and playing in the mud. I can't think of a better way to spend a hot, sunny Sunday than this.

As I reflected on why I love the fair (and this region) so very much, I came up with a simple theme: normalcy. I am totally, utterly normal here. At Shannon Hayes's talk she mentioned that they homeschool. We chatted about it at her book signing after her talk and she said that they are unschooling (as are we), and that there is not a single family in her community doing the same. No unschoolers. No homeschoolers. And here, we're pretty normal. Watching a performance in the kids area I noticed that we were surrounded by dozens of homeschooling friends, and dozens of schooling friends too. Normalcy.

We came to the fair after spending Saturday at my family reunion. I adore my family. I loved seeing everyone and having a chance to reconnect after time apart. But truth be told, my kids and I don't exactly blend in in a family reunion setting. (You might have guessed that. Maybe many of you are in the same boat.) We live a different reality with a different set of values and a different version of our soul's truth. And I'm good with that. But spending yesterday at the fair I felt a deep appreciation for not having to explain why we've chosen the path that we have, be it unschooling, media-free childhood, organic-food, or a DIY lifestlye.

Thank you, family, for accepting us with all of our quirks. And thank you, Kickapoo region, for letting us blend in without feeling quirky in the least.