Stop to smell the roses....and the zinnias.

 

(My niece, Addaline smelling the Zinnias.)

       My husband and I are very different. When we venture out for a walk, he has a goal. A finish line. A place he needs to get to....as quickly as possible! He doesn't let the grass grow under his feet and he has a purpose. We balance each other out and make a great team. He's responsible, dependable, and loving. However, our personalities could not be more different.

I dilly dally. I stop and check out the new kind of bug that meanders across my path. I notice my surroundings in detail. I take it all in and let it surround all my senses. It's therapeutic for me and it's not a race.

(Trillium bud aka stinkin' Benjamin)

I notice the little buds on the trees and bunny tracks on the edge of the road. I see the little orange newt that he almost stepped on and pick him up for a minute to admire him and smile as he tickles my palm with his little feet. I let him go safely in the ditch, so that racing feet do not put an abrupt end to his existence. I gaze upon the pastures and notice the birds flitting about and butterflies kissing flowers. I hear the bees as they hurry by with pollen dusted legs.

(Apple blossoms.)

I search deep into the woods with my eyes, hoping for a glimpse of undisturbed life. The brook sings a peaceful lullaby as I reluctantly pass her by. Moss grows in bright beautiful hues and captures rocks and fallen trees that lay in it's path. I hear a wood pecker enjoying a meal deep in the forest hidden by the greenery. A squirrel scolds me as he runs for higher ground. A crow calls out a warning and flies out of sight.

The wild flowers are beautiful and free for the taking, so I stop to pick a fresh bouquet for my farmhouse table.

I stick my nose into the center of these beauties and take in the sweet aroma. "Aren't these beautiful?" I ask.....myself. My husband is no where to be seen. Apparently he has reached his destination without taking in a thing except for the fresh air.
    Too many times we find ourselves too busy to enjoy what surrounds us. It may be nature, animals, or even people. How many times have we told our children, "I don't have time". When really, all they want is to show you their new super hero move or how tall they have gotten. How about that pretty little dandelion that a chubby little hand thrusts towards you?

(Picking dandelions for mommy.)

                               

Did you see that grin? Have you taken a step back and watched your child as they have played and really savored the moment? The moment that will NEVER come again. It's gone. It's fleeting. They are growing and moving on through life.

       I have noticed that my dad, although very busy, always stops and literally smells my antique roses every time he passes them. Every time!

Why don't we do that more often? For just a moment? A mere moment in the years that make up your life. Have you played with your dog or meandered through your pasture to pat the soft nose of your horse? Have you climbed up into an old apple tree to pluck fresh fruit for your enjoyment? How about rolling up your pant legs to dangle your bare feet in the rushing stream, or lying in the cool grass staring into a deep blue sky while white puffy clouds take shape? What about a simple path through the deepness of the forest? Have you walked it? Do you ever sit still by the lake and watch the dragonflies flit about, while fish jump for supper? Have you sat on the porch in the evening to enjoy the fireflies as they light the night with whimsical flickering? Just for fun? Just to take it all in? For no reason whatsoever? We are blessed. Just look around you. No. I mean, really look around you. Take it all in. Take the time to smell the roses................

...and the zinnias.

For Father's Day

     Not everyone has a dad, and many do not have a good dad. One of the greatest blessings in my life is to have the best dad that a girl could ever be gifted. God gave me an exceptional dad!

    God also made me just like my dad. We share many interests. We both love white water canoeing and adventures in the woods. We both love to create. Our collaboration on my cabin will be interesting and my home will be like no other. We are in love with farming and it consumes us. We both enjoy being alone in the woods. We seek solace there. We both have inherited the stubborn gene from my great-grandmother and our determination propels us. My dad is the hardest working person I know besides my grandfather. My work ethic was instilled in me early in life, and I am happiest at work with my dad.

     Many strangers, at first meeting are a little scared of my dad. They are met with a stern look and a big grizzly beard, but my dad is one of the most kind hearted men you will ever meet. Don't get me wrong. In such an event that he has to, he becomes a warrior for his family. Believe me! I have seen it! He is not someone that you want to battle against!! At the same time, he has a giving heart. The man would give the food off his plate or the hole ridden boots off his feet. He has very little monetary wealth, but he counts his blessings in grandchildren. He always says, "the most important crop that we grow is children."

Each one is in love with this Grampa and each longs to follow him day and night. From the toddling babies to the growing teenagers, they all march after Grampa like he's the Pied Piper. The tune he plays for them is of kindness, but is firm. Lovable and playful. He's a listener and a corrector. An example. My dad is the best example any child could ever have. He doesn't compromise his beliefs for anything. He is as firm as an old oak tree. He believes his Christian values are worth fighting for and he is steadfast. He is fair and just.

     His sense of humor has been passed along to us girls. He loves to sit in the dark and scare any passerby to the point of tears. This past time is enjoyed by us all. My sister and I have inherited this strange sense of humor. You know, the Mr. Bean type of humor? The British comedy loving sense of humor? Some people just don't get us, but oh the fun and laughter that ensues when we start joking around! I love many of the attributes that I have gained from my dad, but his bad luck is one that I wished I had dodged. Our luck is so bad that people joke about it! Many times it is just laughable. The things that go wrong are unbelievable! Some events have been so funny that they have inspired a book that I am currently writing at the expense of my dear dad! So, with this in mind, one of our desires for adventure is quite upsetting to my mom. Our dream to build our own ultralight and soar above the tree tops is always cut short by an angry mother who insists that we are going to die! The fear is that we will get high above the farm, and as we take in the grandeur of what God has created, we will hear a sputter. "Did you fill the fuel tank?" one of us will ask the other. "No. I thought you filled the tank!" will be the reply. I think you know the rest of the story......

Cabin In The Woods PART I : Log Cabin Dreams

 

 For as long as I can remember, I have had log cabin dreams. I grew up in a log cabin on a farm, and I love the woods. I've ran wild through the woods as a child and have had favorite camp sites deep within her safe confines. A love for the woods is what has fueled this passion I have for living in it's midst, in a dwelling that blends seamlessly into the forest landscape.

I love the sounds of the woodland creatures when I am still. I listen quietly and hear the birds in a flutter. The squirrels scold me as I stroll through their homeland. At night, the peepers sing me to sleep. I love to take in the chorus of the crickets, and the shrill answer from one owl to another. I love the moss captured rocks and  the pine needle carpets. I appreciate how the sun filters through any unguarded sky and casts it's beams upon tender vegetation.

I could sit by a babbling brook and lose track of time and reality, only to be lulled into a dreamy state.

Autumn brings a beauty and a feeling that warms my soul while it cools my surroundings. A crispness fills the air and a vivid display follows. The forest floor hides beneath a scattering of color.

Snow brings peaceful protection to my oasis. Heavily laden branches hang low bearing beauty. But, most of all, I love the protection I feel amongst my sky high green guardians. Their arms reach out and envelope my surroundings in a lush beauty, hiding me from existence.

If I didn't have my beautiful family (I'm SO very glad that I do), I could easily become a hermit. I would be happy that way. Alone. Quiet. Free. I know, I am not the norm, but I like it that way. I'm different, and I like that about me. I enjoy that about the forest. No people. Don't get me wrong. I love people and certain people I could not live without, but I love time with no people. It re-energizes me. It clears my mind and affords me the patience to enter the civilized world again. I need to live here among nature and it's occupants. Animals are my neighbors and how peaceful that notion is to me. So, I will live within my passion.

    I started with a dream, and then picked out the piece of forest that would lend it's arms to my log habitat. On 175 acres, I searched for the perfect spot. I found a little opening at the edge of a field. A place my dad had cut and yarded logs with our Belgian work horse team. An opening big enough for a cabin to hide itself from the world. Perfect. My goal was to build a small log cabin for myself and my two boys mortgage free. This was when I was a single mom with two young boys. As the dream has progressed through the years it has now become the future home for myself, my husband, and my four boys. We had to plan for a few extra bedrooms, but the plan is still on a very small scale. The home is only 20'x24', but in the future we hope for an addition. The porch will add a lot of much needed living space too.
    My next course of action was to start collecting salvaged building supplies, and anything free that I could find. I came upon a chimney being torn down in town and stopped by to see if the bricks could be purchased. I bought the entire chimney for $40. I had to load them, but with good deals usually comes labor. Just recently, I added to our brick supply with bricks that I purchased for ten cents a piece! I have hauled many a window with the help of my dad, from the land fill pile. I combed the many "free for the taking" ads and came home with a truck load of old farmhouse doors! My big doors that will find their new home on the south end of my home, used to be sliding glass doors. They were on the trash pile at the dump. I will paint the wood, add unique wrought iron hinges, and door knobs. My old claw foot tub was a great find at $40. I found a $3 buffet at a yard sale and with some elbow grease turned it into a beautiful bar for my kitchen. My cabinets are all thrifty purchases and some were made by my great-grandfather. A friend sold me some beautiful interior doors and all my light fixtures are handmade by me. I am still on the search for more supplies, but this has kept my cost down considerably!

($3 buffet before...)

(...after. Kitchen bar.)

(Hutch. Free beside the road. Before...)

(...after.)

   Next, I rented an excavator to do my land work. I dug my well all by myself! I must say, I am proud of that accomplishment. This is one of the perks of being brought up on a farm. You are taught at an early age to run a myriad of equipment. My dad dug the footing for the cabin as I am not quite that good. My dad is an expert after a lifetime of farming. I then rented a stump grinder and got quite a harsh workout. That was a long day! Then came big brush piles and many nights of burning. I am all about saving every penny on this project so, bringing in rock to fill the footings and cover the inside of the cabin floor only made sense to save on cement costs. For two whole summers I used the skid steer to load rock from old rock walls and then emptied the contents for the base of my cabin. This was back breaking work, but I kept reminding myself  how much money I was saving. I didn't have the money to spend and I had to do what I had to do! After this was completed, it was time for the cement work. My dad and I worked up the cement with our old green cement mixer. We then stuck rebar into the footings to attach our first layer of logs to. I was so proud of our job as we left that evening. My dream was in the works and I could see progress......but, when you live on a farm things do not always go as planned. We have cows.

If you have ever had cows then you know how cows can be. Nosey. Very nosey. They cannot mind their own business and so neither could they in this case. When I entered my work area to inspect our work from the previous evening, I was horrified! My rebar was all cockeyed and sideways. The cement had set and so had the rebar. Cow patties in my work place were the only sign as to who the destruction belonged. It was then that I declared that the cows were heading for the freezer, and I was going to be a flower farmer! We still have the cows.
    Now my dream was beginning to take shape and I could see the outline of what would be my cabin. Now it was time for the logs. This next step was so exciting to me and I began to plan out every aspect over the long winter months. I decided to purchase a load of logs rather than cut them ourselves to save time and save the trouble for my dad. When warmer weather arrived we would begin on the walls! I could not wait for that spring to arrive......

 

Funny, On The Farm....Runaway Rototiller

    It is time to dig out all the gardening tools and tune up the old machinery used to till the soil for another season of gardening. This year, my father-in-law graciously fixed me up an old rototiller to replace my previous disaster that had bit the dust. As I checked out my new toy, I couldn't help but think back to my relationship with my departed rototiller. We were never on the best of terms. We never started out on the right foot. It was a huge rototiller with a mind of it's own. Frequently it lunged forward without warning and sped up with no notice! I have been a farm girl my whole life and have been running heavy equipment for as long as I can remember, but this big red rototiller was determined to get the best of me. It seemed that the harder I would fight, the meaner she would get!

(My "new" rototiller)

    One day, I decided I needed to get some tilling done at the end of our long dusty farm driveway. I had visions of a beautiful flower garden welcoming guests to the farm in grand fashion. There would be beautiful color mingling with the aroma from big gorgeous blooms. I started the red beast and went to work. I was determined to make some serious progress on my dreamy garden project. It was rough going and I was having a bit of trouble keeping up. It bumped and bounced and lept along. Then, it happened. In one sudden jerk, she broke free of my grasp, and hit full speed in a flash! She roared toward the road kicking up soil sky high with me running and tripping trying to get a grasp on her. I felt the terror you get inside when you know things could get bad. A car was coming and my only option was to try to stop this evil machine before it crashed head on into an unsuspecting vehicle! My hair must have been flying wildly about me and I was running through dirt clumps which kept me from standing upright. I felt as if I would topple over at any moment and at full speed. I had torn my pants and dirt colored my blonde hair brown. My shoes were filled to overflowing with garden soil and weeds. My terror increased as the road rushed closer. Inside I was screaming, "NO! NO! PLEASE STOP!!!! PLEASE STOP!!!!" My stomach turned and tied itself into a knot. This was going to be bad! Really bad! All of this drama was crammed into mere seconds, but oh, it seemed to be playing out in slow motion. I clambered up and out of the dirt clods just as she bucked and leaped across the road in front of a stopped car. The man in the car was in full hysterical laughter as I still chased the offender across the road, into the ditch, and towards the woods. My brother-in-law happened to be the driver of the car and was still roaring with laughter at his sister-in-law's near demise! As my nemesis arrived at the woods, I caught up with her just as she began digging at roots, and spinning up leaves. I hit the choke, and cut the power to her escapade. I then stormed off up the long driveway with a dirt smeared scowl, while wisps of laughter danced after me. She had gotten the best of me and our relationship was over!!!
    We reconciled quite some time later, but we were always leery of one another. As I embark on a new relationship this season, I can't help but be a little nervous. What wild path might this new soil tilling beast take me on.......

(One of our gardens that will need tilling this season.)

Cranberries

    I love cranberries. Not jellied from a can, or plucked from the grocery store shelves. I love home grown cranberries just like my grandfather did. He would be thrilled if he could see that I have planted a total of five cranberry bushes so far. I started out with two and lost one, but here I am trying again. I had a few berries make an appearance last fall and this got me excited to add some more bushes, and that is what I did this season.
    I love it when the U.P.S. truck speeds up the driveway in early spring. I know that these packages contain living plants that I get to nurture into a food source. While cold winds blow and snow drifts against my door, I carefully plan out where each new plant will be placed as I sip my hot chocolate by the fireplace. This keeps cabin fever at bay and is a pathway to keeping summertime dreams alive. So, as planting season struggles to arrive, I am prepared, and overwhelmed with anticipation......

First, I dig my holes to accommodate the roots.

I then amend my soil to the needed growing conditions for my cranberry bushes.

I add peat moss, sand, blood meal, bone meal, epsom salt, and rock phosphate. 

I then make sure to loosen up the roots as they are pot bound, and sink them into my mixture.I water them generously. To protect them from a crazy lawn mower wielding son, (or husband), or from a

stampeding cow, or any other farm related accident, I surround my new additions with old car tires. I will remove these as they grow larger.

   As I sit back and admire my new cranberry bushes, I can't help but think of the steaming tart berries with some crushed pecans on top. I lick my lips as I dream about our farm raised turkey with all the fixin's. It brings to mind my grandmother's stuffing recipe, and family and friends gathered together at the farmhouse table for thanksgiving. Our celebration would simply not be complete without the taste of these deep red beauties.

Thanks, Mom.....for being home!

    Growing up, my mom stayed home with my sister and I. Her job was to raise us girls, which couldn't have been easy. We went to a Christian school and she worked one day a week as a teacher's aid to help with tuition. She was always there when we came home. On the rare occasion that mom was not at the house when we came through the door we were devastated! Why wasn't mom home? What is going on? Our world was turned upside down! One summer, my mom took a job a mile up the road at a quail farm. She wasn't gone very long each day, but I do know she was not home for lunch!! My mother is a tremendous cook! Growing up, all my friends would crowd the table hoping for her homemade pizza and home canned dill pickles. I would take my mom's cooking to school and sell it at lunch time. I could always make a sale and mom wondered why I always had a little money to spend. She is famous for her yeast rolls and at any family gathering she is expected to bring those along with her homemade butter. Everything we ate growing up was homemade. We never ate anything from a mix! Thank-you mom! Because of this, my sister and I cook from scratch and we both can our food every year. I can remember shelves lined with canned food all ready for a long cold winter. Applesauce was a favorite and the strawberry jam mistake was the best! The strawberry jam did not jell as it should have, but instead turned out to be a thick sauce perfect for topping ice cream. Yum! Best mistake ever! I still replicate this mistake every year. Mom's garden has always been the best and still is! She works for hours every day, all summer, weeding and tilling. All summer long we ate fresh from the garden.

     In the summer, mom would let us roam our 175 acre farm. I would rise in the morning and gobble down a homemade breakfast and then I was off! I loved the adventure of the woods. My mom's very loud whistle was the sign that it was time to return. I could hear that whistle from a mile away! We all wished we could whistle like mom. She let us be kids and wander and explore. We learned a lot from this. Independence, curiosity, and a love for nature. An education from nature is invaluable. 

    My mom and dad sacrificed a lot for us. We didn't have any money, but I didn't even realize it! Each summer, before school would start, my mom would always take us to this huge sidewalk sale at a local small business. We returned home with bags full of brand new clothing. She never paid more than a few dollars for clothes, but I can remember my excitement. At the grocery store she tripled coupons and came home with food for nearly free! Sometimes they paid her to take it! She was an extreme couponer before it was cool. Some days after school, for a special treat, she would take us into the old general store in our small town. We could pick out penny candy from behind a glass case. We took our time and used great thought in selecting our ten pieces  That is only twenty cents, but to a child it was a treat that we excitedly looked forward to. She stretched our money and we never knew the difference. 

    Mom never had time for herself back then, but now we have begun to be adventurous. A few years ago, my mom and I, along with my niece, started taking a clogging class. We now can actually dance, and we perform at country fairs and events with our dance group during the summer. She so enjoys this and it's a fun hobby to participate in together. 

    We loved having mom at home. A stay at home mom is a big job! Moms shape youngsters into the human beings that they will be for life. Stability and consistency are learned when you come home to mom every day. A light always on in the window, and the smell of a home cooked meal dancing in the air was the norm. This is what I hope to give my boys throughout their life with me. So, on this Mother's Day, thanks mom.....for being home!

Noise, Mud, Frogs, and.... My Cup Runneth Over!

    On any given day, you can find bikes in the yard, matchbox cars in mud puddles, Spiderman clinging to the back of my couch, woodworking projects on my kitchen table, and hunting gear ready to go. There will be work boots piled by my door, army men strewn about, fishing poles at the ready, and bare cupboards. Yes, I am a mom of boys. Four boys. My days are filled with chaos and it is always loud. I am a chef. I am always cooking and doing dishes. Always. I never stop cooking! Did I mention never? I never stop cooking! It is like feeding a pack of ravenous wolves! I was never prepared for the amount of food that they can put away! It seems like I just figure out the mighty portion of food that needs to be prepared, only to find out a few days later that it doesn't cut it anymore. Their growing bodies are demanding more! I am a maid. I find rocks, matchbox cars, toy soldiers, nails, bullets, jack knives, marbles, fish hooks, and many more surprises in the boy's pockets as I do laundry. I sweep mud from my floors. I can't keep a tablecloth clean. Ever. I am a referee. Rough housing is the norm around here. Mom's breakable treasure's sometimes fall victim to a hurtling ball, fist, or someone's noggin. Occasionally, I just let them sort it out for themselves. At times they just need to beat the stuffing out of each other, get it out of their systems, and then rejoin the civilized. I am a medic. Good thing this mama is a farm girl with good patching up skills. I have assisted many a farm animal in the healing process and don't mind blood. I can attend to a pencil up the nose (yes, that really happened), scraped knees, poison sumac, and jack knife mishaps. I am a disciplinarian. Boys do not like sitting on their bed's when they could be out and about getting into mischief! My duties never end! I have been handed bugs without notice, found fake spiders in my bed, been tickled unmercifully, and have been hoodwinked. I have been shot with a blow gun. I have discovered dead squirrels in my freezer, legos in my boots, and have had my house plants upturned. I have had my van mired in mud, and been jumped sky high by sudden fireworks. I look in the mirror and wonder why my hair is sticking out fifteen different ways, how my shirt got peanut butter hand prints, and why I'm still in my pajama pants? When I dig into my purse I pull out a toy tractor, matchbox cars, and Ninja Turtles. Leaving the house is like moving Patton's 8th Army. Chronically late, with any one boy leaving the house minus a boot, hat, or jacket. One has jeans that are stained and ripped out, and the other can't find his belt and his pants are falling down. I am exhausted! Some mornings I wonder if I can pull this wrecked body out of bed for another hootin' and hollerin' day. But.......                                                                                 

 ...these four boys make me happy beyond any words I can put to this page. 

                                                 Words are not adequate....

  

     My days are filled with laughter, snuggles and kisses. I get grins from dirty faced little boys and bear hugs from boys bigger than I. I treasure the little moments, and do not take these precious boys for granted. They give with a smile and a big heart. I have the bird houses and feeders to prove it. I have received many thoughtful gifts made from the heart. Painted pictures are framed on my walls, and notes are tucked into scrapbooks. I have opened my messages to find a "Mom, I love you to the moon and back" from a sixteen year old sweetheart. I have soothed a babies tears after a fall, and gained two baby hands on mama's cheeks, and a spit covered kiss as a "thank-you". I watch with pride as they learn to ride bikes, to read, play the fiddle, and drive a car. Creativity is proven time and again within skills such as carpentry, hunting, welding, horticulture, and more. I have heard, "I love you sooooooooo much mommy", and "I love you this big", and "mama! You're as pretty as a ladybug!!!!" How can you just not love this? I love the good things and I love the hard things. It is all my life. I love being a mom of boys! I feel protected and loved. I love the adventures and all the fun. It's baby giggles, and funny faces. Pig piles and chocolate chip cookies. It's laughing with your teenager until your cheeks hurt. Hay forts, snow forts, and blanket forts. Story time and sleepy boys. It's noise, mud, frogs, and....

...my cup runneth over!