Clean.

Mystery Day

I took Sage and Lupine on a Mystery Day field trip yesterday.

The entire thing was spontaneous. I woke early, a full homeschooling day before us, and was dreaming up ideas for something special we might do. When the kids awoke I sprang the idea on them: Mystery Day? Yes, yes! We rushed through our chores, packed a picnic, and dashed to the car.

They were excited, playful, joyful. So was I.

It's been a while since we've done a field trip like this. And they are growing up. Their needs and interests are so different now. At some point I wondered if Mystery Day would still hold the magic that it did when they were small. But in the end, this Mystery Day turned out to be the best one yet.

We didn't get home until 11 PM, hours after I should have been asleep, and each of us had a fantastic time. We can't wait to do it again. (And again, and again.) 

Our first stop was lunch with my Dad, something that came together literally on our drive to the city. (Lots of pulling over, texting, driving, pulling over again, more texting, more driving.) They don't see my parents as often as they'd like so everyone was thrilled. He even bought dessert! 

From there we had a few more stops that took us through from lunchtime until long after we should have been in bed. It was such fun, none of us wanted to quit. And the discoveries we made! Oh, more on that another day when I have a bit more time to write. But somehow this simple, spontaneous field trip feels like it cracked our homeschool wide open with possibilities. 

We've done these surprise filed trips since they were 3 and 7, me choosing a secret destination and them jumping in blindly to see what unfolds. And today - so suddenly - I stand here with a 10 and 14 year old beside me, one of them who can look me level in the eyes. And I can't help but wonder at how time has unfolded so quickly. 

After I tucked into bed last night, my mind still busy with all of the day's events, I thought that perhaps this is my dessert. Dessert to the hard work of motherhood; to the ache of watching my children grow up before my very eyes.

This joy. This delight in time spent together. This marveling at their unique personhood. This friendship.

Because with a bit of luck (and a lot of hard work) we can stay connected as they silently move from being the people we take care of to becoming these inspiring, amazing people that we just feel lucky to spend time with.

The smallness is mostly gone, but the journey is still rich with magic, connection, and depth.

And for that I am so grateful. 

 

Project Frolic: an encore

The lambs-in-tutus season is brief.

When the lambs are newly born, we're certain the tutus would frighten them. And so we've never tried. When they're too big, well, they're too big. (There is an upper limit for livestock in tutus, you know. Or so I firmly believe.) 

And so it happened that this year's lambs all grew up and out of tutu size before anyone thought to orchestrate a second Project Frolic season of the lamb ballet.

All but one: Lacy, our newest arrival.

And then last night, Pete, Lupine and I were out in the pasture moving fences at sunset, setting up a new plot of fresh grass for the flock. When our work was done we sat down in the pasture and watched them graze; alternately chatting with each other, snuggling Grandpa the guard dog, climbing trees, and simply resting as the sun slipped behind the hills.

Lupine suddenly looked at me with a sparkle in her eye and dashed for the house. "I'll be right back!" she called.

And back she came. With the tutus.

I'm not sure when I have laughed so hard as I did last night. Even Sage emerged from his room, a camera slung over his shoulder after he heard what was going on. All it takes to bring us together is one tiny tutu, it seems.

It's possible that we won't have sheep at this time next year. We're considering moving our flock along to another sustainable farmer who is looking to expand from beef into sheep. It's a very difficult decision (like others we have faced), but we're hoping to have more time as a family for things other than farming during these last fleeting years of Sage's childhood. Lupine would love to keep sheep always, but we're all willing to take a break for a few years in exchange for more family time.

And therefore this might be it for a few years - our last batch of farm babies.

And one more chance to watch a lamb dance through fresh grass in a frilly tutu? Well, goodness yes. I'm glad that Lupine was here to remind us. It would have been a shame to miss that.

The truth, of course, is that sometimes life gets far too serious. We furrow our brows and sigh and get back to work, never looking up to see the eyes of our children and our loved ones growing ever older. Never looking up to see the sunset behind the trees. Never stopping to laugh or smile or play.

And I'm grateful for these moments of joy and levity that bring us back to center. Back to the things that really matter: family, joy, laughter, and these small simple moments that we spend together and that truly are the substance of our lives.

We are rich, indeed.

*Goats in tutus can be found here if you need just a little more. 

 

Shearing day (yes sir, yes sir, nine bags full)

Shearing day had arrived! It's a once a year event, and we're always glad for the sheep when it occurs before the heat of late spring arrives.

The timing this year was perfect: still cool out - frosty in the morning but with a nice springtime warmth by afternoon. We didn't yet have overheated sheep, panting away in the shade in their thick wool coats. I was grateful.

And so we set to work on Saturday morning, rounding up the flock and preparing a space in the barn. 

Each of us has a job on shearing day.

Lupine made breakfast while Pete and I hustled about getting ready; and Sage had prepped lunch the night before so that he could quickly throw food in the oven when shearing was nearly done. Lupine also pre-labeled bags with the names of each member of the flock, while Pete, Sage, and I swept out the barn for cleaner shearing. A dry piece of plywood was placed on the floor, and a makeshift fence corridor was assembled with cattle panels and fencing, leading from the shearing room back to the pasture.

The shearer soon arrived, and everyone set to work. Even a neighbor friend who had come with her sheep (and a baby on her back) had a job to do, helping bag fleeces with Lupine.

I was grateful for her extra hands, because this is normally part of the job that I do, but this year things were different. With a broken arm, Pete's normal heavy-work role was exchanged for sweeping and guiding sheep back to pasture, leaving me to do the sheep wrangling/catching/moving. 

Indeed, my job was the most physical of all (aside from shearing, of course!) - racing about in the hayed barn enclosure, catching wary sheep, then driving them backward, steering them to the waiting shearer and assembled team.

It's been two days and honestly, I'm still a little sore. But the satisfaction was real when I wrangled that last sheep in for shearing.

Lupine (aside from labeling bags and filling them with fleeces) appointed herself the bonus role of lamb guardian, which both mamas and babies certainly appreciated. This way they could stay together (or be more quickly reunited) when shearing was done.

Before we knew it we had nine bags, literally bursting with fiber. Black, brown, grey, white, and mottled - just waiting to be skirted, scoured, and spun.

I can hardly wait! 

For the first time ever, this year we have a local fiber mill just a couple of towns over, opened by some friends last winter. I'm thrilled that I can load up my car with these fleeces (plus the dozen or so still on hand from last year's shearing) and have them worked into soft roving for handspinning and also some beautiful machine spun yarn. 

I enjoy spinning but honestly am not a fan of preparing the fiber - scouring, carding, and making rolags - so I'm over the moon to hand this piece off to Kathryn at Ewetopia.

Today I think I'll take things slow - another epsom salt soak may be in order - and then, perhaps later in the week start prepping these fleeces for delivery. 

Oh my, yes. A great deal of homegrown yarn will be heading my way soon.

Perhaps I'll dye a few skeins for you and put them up in my Etsy shop! That was my intention when we first got sheep those years ago. If there is interest, do let me know and I'll make sure to do so.

Happy Monday dear ones. Make it a beautiful week.

 

Love,
Rachel

 

New rhythms (and some practical tips about ticks)

Spring is such a mix, isn't it? The rushing about with excitement for projects and planting and plans, alongside the slow savoring of each sunny day, as we slip off our shoes and step gently in the grass.

The season awakens not only the birdsong and frog calls and spring ephemerals throughout the valley. It also awakens our sleepy winter spirits and our desire to be outside all day in the sunshine.

So we've been finding a fresh, spring-flavored rhythm to our days. We built a new campfire circle down beside the creek and are burning (ever so slowly) some of the wood that washed up along the banks in the last flood. There's so much piled along the banks that we could have a bonfire each day for a month and hardly make a dent! But it's a challenge I'm willing to take. Because no day is finer than one we spend here, lazily chatting by the fire.

Oh, yes. Spring has my heart. And this new rhythm is just what I needed. 

A word on ticks: Many of you have asked how we can still be comfortable heading out into the tall grass and underbrush with our Lyme disease history. Lyme is scary. I get it. Lupine, Pete and I have dealt with more than our fair share of Lyme.

But what I wrote about my tick philosophy here still holds true. I can't let the fear win. Not when the woods, when life, when childhood are waiting.

Please note: For the first time ever I added affiliate links below (to the supplements we take each morning). I have gone back and forth about doing this, as I feel it runs the risk of reducing credibility when I share something that I love with you. But the truth is, I've always posted links. It's just that now a small percentage of your purchase (and anything else you buy) goes toward our medical bills. Yay! (Your price is the same either way.) Please let me know how you feel about this. Honestly. I'd love to hear how it sits with you. 

On a more practical side, here's what we do these days to prevent ticks (none of these are magical, they're just the combination that we've found that works for us):

~ Even when it's not mosquito season we spray our skin and clothes with Shoo before we head outside. (FYI: this is a product that I make and sell. I create it with Rose Geranium essential oil, added specifically for its tick-repellent properties, plus other helpful EOs for insect repellency). We bring it along and if we're out for more than an hour or two we reapply. I also spray this on my dog when he heads out to romp.

~ We wear light colors when possible and tuck our pants into our socks. Hats are a good choice, too. 

~ We throw all of our clothes into the laundry when we get back home, do tick checks for each other, then we each take a quick shower. Things that can't be laundered (hand knits or other wool, for example) are checked for burrs; then they go into the dryer on hot for 10 minutes to kill any ticks before coming back upstairs. (If woolens are wet line dry first, then throw into the dryer.)

~ And since we started this sulphur protocol two years ago we've had almost no tick bites. (Really. We went from five bites for Lupine alone by mid April one year, to a single bite the whole next year. Yes, one bite is still one too many, but it's certainly an improvement.)

The protocol is as follows:

Week 1: Take 1/8 teaspoon of powdered sulphur daily (We stir it into water with a bit of Magnesium Calm instead of the molasses recommended in the link above (for flavor, and because we supplement with magnesium daily anyway). We also add our other daily powdered supplement, collagen gelatin, since it's convenient to do it all in one mug at the same time. The whole mix tastes just fine, even to my super-taster kid.) * The collagen and magnesium have nothing to do with ticks, it's just a convenient - and tasty - way to double up our supplement game in one glass. 

Week 2: Take above dose every other day.

Week 3: above dose every third day.

Week 4: Take above dose once per week.

Week 5 through Autumn: Take above dose monthly.

I don't know why it works, but it seems to work well for us, so I'm keeping with it. Even if it is some woo-woo folk remedy. As long as it works! 

 

forty-four

Yesterday was my 44th birthday. And like every year, I skipped out of work for the day, opting instead to spend a quiet, lazy day at home with my family. There was nettle to forage and bed sheet forts to build; homemade gifts to unwrap and baby animals to cuddle. And so much knitting in my lap (sometimes in the hands of my young knitting partner)! Lupine even made me a birthday crown, with dandelion and dock leaves and the first magnolia blossom of the season. 

It was slow, simple, and just what I needed. I think the older I get the more comfortable I become in my life and my skin. And the less I really need to make me feel complete. No fancy dinner or big party plans, just my three favorite people, the sun on the hills, and some yarn in my hands.

Oh, yes. That was just the way to turn a new page on my calendar.

 

Not a soccer mom

Given the choice between supervising organized sports or running through the woods dressed as medieval misfits and warriors, my choice is pretty easy. I'd take this option any day.

Indeed, as a twenty year old I participated in a few LARP (live action role play) events, (and not because my kid needed a ride), putting on my own armor, cape, and shield. But this time, at just days shy of 44, I felt a little out of my element. Sage had a two-day LARP that he wanted to attend, and rather than catch a ride with another family he really wanted me to come along. We could bring the camper, then sleep out after each event.

I suggested to Pete that he could go instead, but with a broken arm, sleeping in the camper would be more difficult than managing farm chores without Sage and I. (sigh.)

And so I decided to go. I would stay in the camper and work on lesson plans and recipes for the upcoming summer camp while Sage and the others played. And also I would knit. And drink copious, unreasonable amounts of tea.

It sounded dreamy, actually. Two six-hour days of me-time? Yes, please.

Sage tried to convince me to LARP, too, but I made some excuses and told him that I might join in at the next event. 

But then, standing on the edge of the field, surrounded by LARPers of all ages, one of the organizers looked at me (with piercing transparent purplish-blue contact lensed eyes), and pointedly asked, "So are you playing?" 

Um.

I stumbled about for excuses of about the work I needed to do and she replied with a blank purply-eyed stare. 

"And... that was the lamest excuse ever," I admitted.

She silently nodded. 

 

The next thing I knew I was draped in a gold tabard (game code: invisible non-character) and invited in to lurk on the sidelines and photograph the two day event, despite having only blue jeans and a t-shirt to wear underneath.

As long as I stayed out of the way.

 

I silently tucked my knitting back into my project bag and put my lesson plans away.

Game on.

The truth is, Sage is growing up fast.

His world and mine are slowly moving apart from one another, as they are meant to do.

But he asked me to play. Not just the purple-eyed lady. My teenager. And it isn't often that he asks me to play anymore. How long until he stops for good?

These days are more fleeing than ever, it seems.

And just as I was when he was small and wanted me to play trains or trucks or play kitchen, I'm a little out of my element. I'm fumbling along, faking my way through.

But so what? Isn't that the very essence of parenting? Two parts love and one part faking it. We step out of our comfort zone and into in a world of our child's making, ever surprised by the bits of ourselves we discover along the way.

Another Viroqua mom was there, supervising her son who was too young to participate without a guardian. I'm pretty sure she didn't know she'd be playing when she arrived. Not gold tabard photography and lurking, but a full costume and weapons and the rest.

"Rachel, can you hold my shield for a minute?"

She was wrangling her weaponry as we headed into the woods. I took her foam shield, then teased, "You've never asked me that before."

"Yeah," she replied. "It's a whole new level of our friendship!" 

We laughed and discussed how LARPing is a whole new level of motherhood as well. I think as parents we step up expecting music lessons or organized sports, dance class or martial arts. But not this. Not swords and chainmail and role play.

But as parents we go with the flow. We help our kids find what they love; then we stand on the sidelines (or beside them at the battering ram, as the case may be) and wildly cheer them on. 

And I realized in that moment how amazing it is for these kids - and these adults - to find this niche were they truly belong. To find a place to express this creative, all-in imaginative part of themselves that for many is stifled in their day to day life. 

It was surprisingly inspiring to watch.

Isn't that what we all desire? To find that place that thing that makes us come alive? And yeah, it might be soccer. But for many of us (or I'd wager most of us) it isn't. 

 

And that was how it happened that I rolled into my 44th birthday wishing I had more period appropriate clothing to wear under my tabard, and plotting and planning what I would bring to the next event. 

Parenting is strange business, my friends. It changes us in ways we never, ever imagined.

And for that I am consistently grateful.

 

 

Oh, and one more thing - does anyone have any pointy ears I can borrow for a couple of days in May? 

I might just need them.

 

 

You can read about Last Hope LARP here.