devotion to little things

Dearest friends,

I have been avoiding this post for ages. I’ve written it in my head so many times. But today I’m writing it, because sometimes life just gets really hard. And sometimes it’s healthy to acknowledge that.

I’ve been enmeshed in some melancholy that I can’t seem to shake. Maybe you have too.

A few weeks ago I had some fairly simple day surgery that got all caught up in my heart condition/anesthesia protocols and I have had to wrap my head around some new realities. I don’t share this for sympathy, or as a request for medical advice. I’m just sharing it to acknowledge that as we age, our lives begin to show the wear and tear on our bodies. This is natural. We can get angry and fight it, or we can accept it and find grace to move forward with renewed appreciation for each and every day. I’m seeing this chapter in my life as an invitation to pay better attention to what I put into my body, how I move it and what I choose to do with my days.

Autumn in Vermont has been so very odd this year. The late frost in May, the flooding in July and the heavy rains again in August have taken their toll of the foliage, the harvests and our spirits. Our view, which is usually spectacular this time of year, has been more muted and the leaves have blown off the trees much sooner that usual.

Domestic and world events these past few weeks are enough to bring anyone to tears.

So, what to do, friends, with this melancholy?

I’ve been holding the word devotion close to my heart this year. As I thought about what to write about here, I thought perhaps I could reflect on little things this fall. A devotion to little things. And I’ll take my cue from one of my favorite quotes, via Bread and Puppet Theater.

THAT SIMPLE-LIGHT MAY RISE OUT OF COMPLICATED DARKNESS

For instance, I had a few pieces of jewelry that I have not been wearing because they were broken. I finally pulled out my pliers and fixed two bracelets. The simple pleasure I got from repairing those old favorites was so fun! I moved on to sewing some patches on old pj’s and doing some mending. Then I organized a drawer in the kitchen. Today we harvested carrots from the gardens, and I set the Hopi black sunflower heads out on the three season porch to dry. We brought some apples in from the yard. I scrubbed the front door mat and draped it over the deck railing to dry. I wrote some snail mail. I cut some holes in a cardboard box for the cats to play in.

I have not created world peace. But I have created a renewed sense of peace in my home. I have pulled myself back from the edge of melancholy and now I have fresh energy to move forward in a more productive way. I’ve made space for possibilities.

So, for the next bit, I’ll be devoted to little things here. I’ll share ideas and small projects to cultivate hope, to bring light to the darkness.

And if you have some ideas, dearest readers, please share them here in the comments, or send me a message. xo

in the midst of the equinox

Have I lost track of something/someone that I would like to reconnect with?

Are there things I’ve carried with me that I can set down and leave behind?

What brand new experience might I want to try?

How about you, dearest readers? What things might you consider as we step from one season into another? Are you able to make space to ponder?

And thank you, each and every one of you who left a thoughtful comment on my last post. I so appreciated them! I may share a few more peeks into our trip in the future, as they seem appropriate. Lots of inspiration there, for sure!

Be sure to look up at the sky some night, the constellations are sliding along the horizon, and changing places with one another. xo

the kids thought we might never come home...

My two brothers and their partners joined Batman and I on a two week adventure to Scotland. We had never traveled together as adults. It’s odd, but it feels like if I try to write much about it, it will lose its magic and wonder and preciousness.

So here’s the briefest of context. We started out by self piloting a narrowboat on the Union Canal. We went through the Falkirk Wheel, the Falkirk Tunnel and over an aqueduct on our three day journey.

Then we spent a night in Oban on our way to the Isle of Skye.

We had three days on the Isle of Skye, quite a gorgeous place.

Then on to a week at a self catering cottage in Rothiemurchus, at the heart of the Cairnhorns National Park. (I squealed with delight when I saw Hannah Nunn’s post “in the pines” just a few days before our departure.)

The weather was absolutely amazing. We spent our last day in Edinburg, where rain finally caught up with us. We had fretted a bit about our return flight due to the hurricane, but the travel elves kept us safe.

along the Quiraing walk.

We spent as much time outdoors as we could, walking, hiking, birding, catching up with one another’s lives along the way.

We got takeaway, we dined in pubs and fine restaurants and had picnics on the trail. We cooked and baked in our wee kitchens. We drank “whiskey and wine” and I had so much delicious fish!

I’ll remember the misty mornings along the canal, where I fell asleep at night to the swaying of the water at our moorings and all of the lush green foliage cascading over the canal banks. I’ll remember the cows grazing and the amber bales of fresh cut hay in the fields. I’ll remember the lovely folks who biked and walked along the tow paths, many with sweet dogs, ready to say “hiya!” as we passed one another. And chatting out by the tiller, with whoever was piloting the boat at the time.

I’ll remember the hard, rocky hikes with the totally-worth-it-views at the end. I’ll remember the taste of cold water when I need to stop and catch my breath along the trail. I’ll remember just gazing at the horizon or tilting my head to the sky, exhaling and being fully present, over and over again.

I’ll remember the soft pine needles underfoot in the ancient forests, the scent of freshness and decay all rolled into one…earthiness. The rocks and the moss and the ferns and the lichen and the birds. The trees. The trees. The trees. And the lochs.

And the fun of having days and days with Batman and my brothers and their partners.

What a gift. What a gift.

xo

a teaser...

Safely home, tucked into my very own bed, a bit of sleep and then up and restless and brewing tea in the dark. My Circadian rhythm has me back in Scotland. In my little bits of sleep I dreamed of moss and ferns and tall trees and lochs and gravel paths and canals and of being wrapped in the freshest of scents. I have lived in the midst of magic and I hope I won’t ever forget what it felt like…

a summer mini series:: part six:: pausing

Our sunflowers are late to bloom, but here they come!

I’m taking September’s invitation to set back and breathe in every precious moment. I won’t be posting here for a few weeks. Here are a few of my current faves to keep you company while I’m away.

An enduring fave, Hannah Nunn.

Her friend, Sarah Mason.

And her friend, Alice Fox.

Also, Kate at Foxslane.

Be well, friends.

breathe, hope, notice, invite, love, create, wonder, celebrate

xo

a summer mini series:: part five:: terroir

The cherry tomatoes in the hoop house are coming on strong. We made a compote the other night. Cherry tomatoes, pressed garlic and torn basil leaves (all from our bit of earth), tossed in EVOO, with a dash of salt and pepper…roasted at 400 degrees for 15 minutes, then tossed and roasted for another 15 minutes, until everything was juicy and simmering. We poured it over Trencher’s Farm House’s radiatori, a treat in and of its own!

The slicing tomatoes are coming into the kitchen by the armful, the San Marzano are not far behind. We’ll use those to make sauce.

Lindsey sent me a photo of a vegetable galette she made and I asked her for instructions. We made it in our kitchen and it was amazing! See above. I have tried to attach the instructions here on the blog, but my techno skills have been thwarted! Send me an email via my “contact” box on the website, I’ll send you a document via email. xo

While we enjoy bringing food in from our gardens, we’ve also been supporting our local farmers at the weekly farmers market up in Montpelier. So many farmers were wiped out by the flooding in July, and those that made it through are being celebrated. Those who did not are being cared for by the amazing mutual aid here in Vermont, as well as NOFA-VT.

There’s really nothing like eating food from the soil here in Vermont. It’s one more way to “keep our heads above the overwhelm.” Nourishing our bodies with foods close at hand…the terroir is cherished. Food has not been shipped in a container truck across miles and miles of asphalt. It has not sat in warehouses. Farm to table is one of the most fun ways to eat, and I hope more and more folks will have access, as we find new ways to navigate our food systems here in this country.

The flower gardens are shifting gears, too. The ferns are moving into their bracken phase, the black eyed Susans, echinacea and daisies are playing so joyfully together. Queen Anne’s lace, goldenrod and milkweed dance along the side of the road as cars drive past. Some of the sugar maples are beginning to show signs of color. My favorite time of the year is on its way!

The feed corn planted along the ridge has been growing, folks are harvesting their last hay mowing. Vermont’s trinity of blue sky, white clouds and green fields will forever be holy to me.

I used a bit of leather from the factory floor of The Vermont Glove Company here in town to finish off this wee rope bowl. My studio has been very quiet this summer. Not sure why.

Are you looking forward to the “blue moon” on August 30th? I’ll “see” you out there! xo

a summer mini series:: part four:: flow

Sometimes it’s just lovely to wake up in the morning and decide to do something you’ve been meaning to do for a while. Batman and I picked marigold heads from the raised beds (we use them as insect deterrents and to add color to the veggie rows) and I strung them on thread, anchored by a wooden bead. I strung the first attempt with any old thread I grabbed from my thread rack. It broke when I tried to hang the string of blooms from the ceiling on the porch. I heard my dad say, “If you’re going to do something, do it right the first time”. Haha. Thanks dad. So, I went back down to my studio and found the button thread and tried again. Voilá. These will dry in the breeze and be ready to pop in a jar once they are cured. I’ll use them to dye with once the chill sets in and the sunlight contracts each day. I’ll be looking for some sunny color by then.

Finding a project and getting lost in it is such a treat. The woes and worries of the world drop back, and we can focus on scents, textures and colors. I noticed the sounds of a tractor off in the distance, gathering of one more batch of hay. The birdsong changes with the season, if we listen carefully, we can hear it. My mug of tea reminded me of far off farmers, halfway across the world, gathering leaves for me to enjoy here in Vermont.

Finding flow is another kind of sanctuary. Where have you found flow, friends? I invite you to drop a comment below! xo

Also, thanks for the many thoughtful notes you left on my last post. I love to hear from you. I try to answer them right there in the comments, too. It may take me a few days, but I do try to catch each of you.

A SUMMER MINI SERIES:: PART THREE:: ESCAPE

Batman has transformed an old shed into a playhouse. This same pirate flag hung from our kids’ playhouse in Chicagoland long ago. The blue chairs came from my grandmother’s kitchen.

Batman repurposed lots of bits and pieces. This railing came from a toddler bed he built for Stewart when we lived in Old San Juan. We found the kitchen gear at the thrift store. The apples were gathered by little ones.

I stitched a bunting from an old birdseed bag and a cat litter bag.

Batman trimmed a few branches from a maple and hung a homemade swing.

In the past two weeks we have had 12 adults and 8 children gathered here in an assortment of different combinations. One afternoon we put the tables end-to-end for the first time since the “before times” and gathered a crowd. It felt very Karin and Carl Larsson around here. The day was breezy, the sky was blue and the vibe was intergenerational.

Not everything was perfect which was just perfect.

As time passes and the world changes, I know in my heart that all we have is this present moment. It is our escape and sanctuary and home. xo

A SUMMER MINI SERIES:: PART TWO:: EASE

Batman and Maggie looking at craters on the moon. She’s wearing my corduroy shirt ‘cause it’s been chilly in the evenings here in Vermont. The BEST kind of evenings!

A daily ritual in July, deadheading all the day lilies. These gardening clogs are still spattered with Falu red that we used when we painted gazillion lengths of exterior siding to save money. Also, the toe of the left clog was chomped by porcupines who set up life in our woodshed for a few weeks. #countryliving

Harvested yesterday, with help from small girls, garlic drying on the front porch.

Corázon and Wilma, snuggling in the room of requirement.

Wilma, who was gifted a handmade necklace, made by little hands.

After quiet Covid summers, our “bit of earth” is alive with visitors again…friends and family, tucked in like sardines at night and gathered around the table with both leaves added to the dining table. “Pull up a chair, sit next to me, please pass the salt and pepper!” Arriving in waves and overlapping with one another, it’s been a celebration of love and connection.

Which brings me to ease. The kitchen is running full tilt, the toys get picked up in the evening, shoes are kicked off in the breezeway and there are so many books to read “again”. There’s intergenerational laughter, some tears when feelings get frayed, things to harvest in the garden and wildflowers to pick in the meadow. Plans get made and then are adjusted or changed altogether…depending on the weather or moods or disruption of naps. But we all try to roll with it. Because that’s what this time of year is all about. Ignoring the big wide world and just dropping in to the current of the day with beloved ones. Easing together into days we will all remember once we’ve said good-bye to one another.

Wishing you ease, dearest readers…days that roll out from the morning, into midday and into the quiet of evening, when you fall into bed tired and happy.

xo

a summer mini series:: part one:: BIRDS

I’m on an anti-fretting campaign. And looking for kindred spirits, fellow hopers, clothesline compatriots, dirt worshipping diggers and bird watchers.

A few days back I asked…Given the realities of everything we are living through right now, how do we keep our heads above the waters of overwhelm?

Let’s deepen our connections to Mother Nature and see what healing we can offer our hearts and what resilience we can bring to our communities. I aim to post resources, thoughts and encouragement here for the next few weeks.

Today, it’s all about birds. We love that our space here on the ridge is popular with so many birds. I think they like the open meadow, the shelter of the trees and the abundance of bugs (the more they eat, the fewer bugs eat us!)

Cora, Wilma, Batman and I have discovered Merlin, a free phone app that identifies birds in an area by their calls. Just push “record” and voilá…the bird species begin to scroll on your screen!

We sit out on the three season porch most mornings and eat breakfast with our Sibley guide and the Melin app and binoculars. Here’s what the app has picked up in the last few weeks…

We have yet to actually spot the indigo bunting, the scarlet tanager or the magnolia warbler, despite our best efforts. The fun is in the listening. The waiting and watching.

The birds often flit down to land on the wooden posts we use to secure chicken wire to deter woodchucks. They preen and sing while they cock their heads to find bugs and larvae in the gardens.

We sit in silence and are wrapped up in pure pleasure as we watch their comings and goings. A few weeks ago we watched the bluebirds fledge their wee babies.

If you look closely, you can see the bluebird box on the far end of our hoop house.

The blueberries are beginning to ripen, and so we have netted them. This is one thing we are not willing to share with our feathered friends.

I did a walking meditation in the meadow on Tuesday morning and made a bouquet to share with friends.

Early yesterday as the ash from Canada began to lift.

And very blue skies above the hay field across the road from us today!

A few years back we visited the Birds of Vermont Museum, a wonderful resource for all things bird in Vermont, including a collection of gorgeous carved wooden birds. We may need to revisit this summer!

Maybe you are a birder? Or a bird appreciator? Maybe you’re an ornithologist! Do you find inspiration while watching birds? Does your blood pressure drop as you calm down and sit and wait for the birds to come to you? Let us know in the comments! (Thanks Stacy, for letting me know the comments were “off”! Just fixed it.)