Clean.

Do you want to go for a hike in the woods?

It started with a simple question on a beautiful fall day.

"Do you want to go for a hike in the woods?"

I did, of course.

But as a mom (or perhaps it's just me?) the question was met with a barrage of internal dialogue that went something like this:

"Will it be a date - just the two of us? And if so, how are we convincing the kids to stay home? Or will it be a family walk, and if so, how will we convince the kids to come along? Also, what about dinner? I need to start cooking around 4:30 and I still haven't thawed meat. Will we be home by 4:30 or does our walk in the woods involve researching Instant Pot recipes for two hours before we go?"

You get me, so I suspect you understand my dialogue. (Perhaps you even have your own on occasion.)

 

Rather than speak my quiet madness aloud I simply said, "Yeah, okay. Yeah! That sounds really nice." 

 

And - as it turns out - it wasn't a date. The kids were willing to come along. (With varying degrees of enthusiasm from wildly positive to cautiously reserved.) 

To quiet my noisy self-talk about dinner I hastily tossed some vegetables, four hot dogs and two andouille sausages, a box of matches, a bundle of newspaper, and drinks for everyone into a backpack and we were off.

To the creek. To the woods. To the quiet. 

We hiked to our campfire ring in the hills and struck a fire. ("Without any newspaper!" I proudly reported. Because we found birch bark. "And without any matches!" added Sage humorously, as though we'd brought - and had success - with flint and steel. In reality it was because the boys brought lighters.)

And there we were... in the forest. Roasting our dinner over the fire on whittled sticks, begin scolded by red squirrels and watching the leaves swirl around us as the sun slipped below the trees.

We stayed until long after dark, then fumbled our way home through the woods and across the creek in darkness. Back in the kitchen we made popcorn for a snack and chatted until bedtime, then fell asleep smiling, our hair scented like woodsmoke.

Do you want to go for a hike in the woods?

My questions and chatter have been silenced by the woods. Now my answer is simply "yes".

 

And, indeed, I am so happy that you asked. 

Parent like someone is watching

You know the saying, "dance like nobody's watching"?

I have my own version.

Okay It's totally different.

But it's still worth remembering.

Mine conjurs an image that's a little less Woodstock and a little more Mr. Rogers.

It's one that I can lean on in my hardest days.

"Parent like someone is watching."

When things get real - like they so often do - just pretend you are not alone.

Simple, yes.

But more powerful than you might think.

Imagine that in the room with you is someone you respect.

Not anyone who would ever judge you, but someone who's attitude, opinion, and parenting is an inspiration.

Someone who helps you tap into your own patience and compassion.

Whether fictional or real, imagine them at the edge of the room.

Your sister. A friend. Or heck, Mr. Rogers himself.

Then parent like they're watching.

And watch as you find a hidden well of patience and kindness that you didn't even know was there.

Because here's the thing.

When I'm around like-minded friends or even strangers I can rock this.

I'm on my game.

I don't act like a bully or cave to constant distraction.

And when things go haywire I rise when I could dive.

Just knowing others are there gives me the strength I need to draw on.

I suppose that is community - in one form or another.

It's connection.

Support.

And yes, accountability.

To see ourselves more clearly through the eyes of another.

To feel like we are not alone.

 

The truth is, you are not alone.

We are all walking our own paths, but they are parallel.

We're each there doing our own work, just out of each other's line of sight.

And we have up days and down days.

Magical days and disasters.

We all struggle sometimes.

With patience.

Kindness.

Or presence.

Today I was briefly a jerk to my kids.

They both needed compassion and I was shorter and less tender than I could have been.

And then I realized that I might have acted differently if someone was watching.

Not because anyone else matters more than my child, but because I would have been more self-aware.

It was awakening.

Because my kids are more important than that.

And yours are, too.

 So today - wherever you are and whatever goes down - parent like someone is watching.

Someone you adore, respect, and love.

Someone who matters more than anything.

Parent like someone is watching.

Because someone is.

Yes. Of course.

Someone is.

Parent like your child is watching.

Because indeed. And of course.

They are.

 

Love,

Rachel

 

Originally posted in 2014.

Another picture perfect weekend (not really)

Pete and Sage spent the weekend away, helping my dad and sister put up wood for the winter at the cabin.

Lupine and I stayed home to care for the flock. 

Things didn't go quite according to plan.

I woke on Saturday before sunrise. As first light came across the valley I scanned the pastures and discovered that we had a security breach. Our sassy sheep Catkin had headed to greener pastures. 

Catkin is our problem child, a bottle lamb we adopted on a whim.

She would be a pet, we said. We would use her wool, we said. It would be fine, we said.

It turns out Catkin has a special gift for growing her wool pre-felted (yes, really!) so it's useless for fiber unless you're making a vegetarian sheepskin rug or stuffing a very solid dog bed.

It also means she's immune to the electric fences.

This is a newly discovered superpower, something she has been exploiting on and off all summer. If she's persistent enough and pushes hard enough against the wire, the whole valley is her domain. 

She will occasionally lean into the fence so hard that she breaks insulators (like this weekend) or pull fence posts right out of the ground, electric current be damned (also this weekend).  When she does she can bring a friend with her on these walkabouts who normally wouldn't brave an escape.

Lupine and I caught Catkin three times out of the pasture on Saturday and I awoke to find her out again on Sunday. 

Sigh.

We caught her again and fixed the fence. And again. And again.

We needed a better plan. 

 

Lupine suggested we divide the flock and move the sheep to a fresh pasture. That should do it! With her help we sent the goats one way and the sheep another.

(Be aware that when I say we 'sent' the goats one way and the sheep another, that this act looks more like a chaotic barnyard mosh pit than anything. Regardless, we were successful.)

I set out two empty pails to fill with water, turned around to find the hose, and turned back to find this. 

Oz the ram lamb had become a walking, bumbling mascot for my sheep care skills.

As I headed over to remove his bucked I discovered that Melissa the goat was out.

Oh, goodness. I'm not very good at this.

I caught the goat while Oz wandered the pasture wearing his new hat. I tiptoed over, pulled off his bucket, and filled their water pails before anyone else could get stuck. Finally we could have breakfast! And coffee. Please. Coffee.

 

As I went to the kitchen sink to wash my hands I looked outside to see...

That's right. Catkin. In the garden.

 

Lupine was pulling on her boots without even being asked. If it weren't so funny I might have cried. 

Finally Lupine came up with a solid plan. We would lock Catkin (and her co-conspirator Quinoa) in the pen in the barn reserved for birthing mamas. It would be their prison cell until we could figure out a better strategy.

And it held! As of this morning those naughty sheep are still in solitary and the others are happily grazing in their pasture.

Whew. 

So there you have it. Another utopic weekend on the farm.

 

Digging roots

Yesterday it was warm enough here for me to kick off my mud-caked boots and work barefoot in the sunshine, scrubbing roots and tossing dock leaves to the rabbits. What a rare delight that was for October. 

I was harvesting medicine plants for the upcoming retreat - dock and dandelion, elecampane and horseradish, burdock and sage. 

The retreat is just a few weeks away, so some of these roots will stay fresh in the fridge until then; the others are tucked into a borrowed dehydrator and will head into mason jars this morning.

Prepping these plants was deeply satisfying for me - in many ways. It was a glorious October day, so the sun on the autumn trees painted my experience, of course. And my children were away, so working alone in rare silence was something of a meditation. 

But it was more than that.

At it's heart was the idea that not only will I will make medicines from these plants for my family, but I will place these plants in the hands of other women so that they may learn how to create their own medicine. To share not remedies but knowledge? That is something that will nourish these families far beyond a single season.

What a wonderful gift - for all of us. 

Not so many generations ago I suppose this was simply how communities prepared for the coming season. To dig and prepare and teach and learn - together. As a community.

But today 'community' has so many meanings. It's more than the people who live in your town. I have a neighborhood community and a larger local community; a social media community and a blog community; a homeschooling community and a community of other medicine makers. And on and on and on.

And while I know the retreat is not a logistic or financial reality for everyone, I feel pulled to share this knowledge with more of you.

I'm not yet sure what that means, but I'm open to suggestions. Perhaps one-day gatherings or YouTube videos; books or blog posts. 

It is something I feel incredibly called to do and something that is a synthesis of so many parts of who I am - the naturalist, the forager, the herbalist, the body care maker, the teacher, the writer, the photographer - it all comes together here. I'm just waiting to see how it unfolds.

If you have suggestions I'm all ears. Because the experience of this retreat is something I can't wait to share with the fifteen women who will attend, but I would love to offer something to the rest of you as well.

Indeed, I can hardly wait.

 

Love,
Rachel 

 

 

 

Your superpower

You have a superpower.

And every day you get a chance to use it.

It's the power to change the world.

By choosing play over pressure.

Peace over violence.

Kindness over power.

Compassion over neglect.

Forgiveness over blame.

Every. Single. Day.

As a parent you possess the power to change the world.

One day at a time,

one child at a time,

one interaction at a time.

And the world transforms.

But that does not mean you will be perfect.

You will falter.

You will yell.

You will curse.

You will break.

You will forget just for a moment how amazingly powerful you are and you will return to shame, anger, manipulation, and control.

It happens.

To all of us.

In our own way we each create own reasons for regret.

And then?

And then you have the chance to choose forgiveness again. This time for you.

Compassion. Understanding.

Second chances.

Unconditional love.

No one is perfect.

Not your partner, not your child, not your mother. And not you.

We're all stumbling along, learning as we go.

Doing our best.

We are all flawed.

It's part of the plan. It gives us good work to do with our time here on earth.

Allow yourself your imperfections.

Allow them to your child as well.

And yes, allow them even to that other mother you see on the street who's come undone and is yelling and pulling her little one roughly along.

She needs it most of all.

And then, remember your power.

Your superpower.

To shape the world, for good.

It takes courage to forge a new path.

To reach for peace when you were taught reach for power.

To reach for compassion when last time you faltered.

To reach for understanding even in frustration. Or exhaustion. Or anger.

You have the power to change the world. And also to change yourself.

And the harder that is for you, the more deeply I honor your work.

Onward, mama. Onward.

You carry the world in your arms.

It's your superpower.

Love,
Rachel

 

Originally posted in 2014.

You have a superpower.

And every day you get a chance to use it.

It's the power to change the world.

By choosing play over pressure.

Peace over violence.

Kindness over power.

Compassion over neglect.

Forgiveness over blame.

Every. Single. Day.

As a parent you possess the power to change the world.

One day at a time,

one child at a time,

one interaction at a time.

And the world transforms.

But that does not mean you will be perfect.

You will falter.

You will yell.

You will curse.

You will break.

You will forget just for a moment how amazingly powerful you are and you will return to shame, anger, manipulation, and control.

It happens.

To all of us.

In our own way we each create own reasons for regret.

And then?

And then you have the chance to choose forgiveness again. This time for you.

Compassion. Understanding.

Second chances.

Unconditional love.

No one is perfect.

Not your partner, not your child, not your mother. And not you.

We're all stumbling along, learning as we go.

Doing our best.

We are all flawed.

It's part of the plan. It gives us good work to do with our time here on earth.

Allow yourself your imperfections.

Allow them to your child as well.

And yes, allow them even to that other mother you see on the street who's come undone and is yelling and pulling her little one roughly along.

She needs it most of all.

And then, remember your power.

Your superpower.

To shape the world, for good.

It takes courage to forge a new path.

To reach for peace when you were taught reach for power.

To reach for compassion when last time you faltered.

To reach for understanding even in frustration. Or exhaustion. Or anger.

You have the power to change the world. And also to change yourself.

And the harder that is for you, the more deeply I honor your work.

Onward, mama. Onward.

You carry the world in your arms.

It's your superpower.

Love,
Rachel

 

Originally posted in 2014.

Etsy shop update

As some of you know, I have an Etsy shop where I sell herbal recipe books and sewing patterns. This morning I restocked my Felt Birthday Crown pattern because Halloween is coming and perhaps you have a prince or a queen in your household! (You never know.)

The project is quick and easily customizable and hopelessly addictive. 

I also restocked the Snuggle Doll and the Winter Apothecary plant medicine recipe booklet. 

And just for fun everything in my shop is 20% off with coupon code "OCTOBER" (now through the end of the month). All patterns are instant downloads, so you'll have your pattern in hand just moments after you buy. There is the crown pattern and a simple Waldorf doll that is perfect for beginners.

You can find my shop right over here!

Happy crafting, sweet people.

xo

Rachel

 

As some of you know, I have an Etsy shop where I sell herbal recipe books and sewing patterns. This morning I restocked my Felt Birthday Crown pattern because Halloween is coming and perhaps you have a prince or a queen in your household! (You never know.)

The project is quick and easily customizable and hopelessly addictive. 

I also restocked the Snuggle Doll and the Winter Apothecary plant medicine recipe booklet. 

And just for fun everything in my shop is 20% off with coupon code "OCTOBER" (now through the end of the month). All patterns are instant downloads, so you'll have your pattern in hand just moments after you buy. There is the crown pattern and a simple Waldorf doll that is perfect for beginners.

You can find my shop right over here!

Happy crafting, sweet people.

xo

Rachel