Ever End

All week it has been utterly soaking wet here. Clouds have been dumping water like they have no shut off valve. 

About 5 p.m. today we went to town. To get there, we have to cross over one of the rivers that we love and spend a lot of time at. 

Today the river wasn’t even close to being itself. Normally, it’s pretty quiet and we can see to the bottom, but today it meant business. The message was perfectly clear: stay out of its way. 

News reports are coming in now and the stories are a bit alarming. Southwest of us, there have been several water rescues with pictures of cars up to their roofs in water. 

East of us two towns are completely surrounded by water. South and east of us, a bridge we’ve been on many times, washed out. Like it’s gone. 

A friend of mine south of here can’t get to his driveway because there’s water over the road. It’s so deep that only the top of his mailbox is sticking out. 

Seems like sometimes the weather is such a contradiction of itself. Places scorched by wildfire, beg for rain to begin, yet here we are wondering, when will this rain ever end? 


Four Leaf Clovers 

For weeks now, I’ve been scouring the grass in our front yard hoping to spot a little luck in the form of green petals with tiny stems. 

In all of that time, can you believe I didn’t find even one single smidgen of good luck? 

Yesterday my husband was outside for like five minutes. He walked right over to the same exact place I have been looking and found not just one but four, four leaf clovers! 


Old Hinges and Irises

A few years ago when I volunteered up at the local school, there was a really sweet retired teacher that volunteered, too. 

Miss Lola Bell told me about an old school house that was near their property and that people were helping fix it up. 

Yesterday, Little Bit and I found that school house on our afternoon drive. I must say, they did a great job. It is quite charming. 

Standing on the sidewalk, I almost got a sense of what it would’ve been like carrying books and finding a seat inside. 

Can you just imagine desks jammed packed with eager students, math written up on the blackboard, and the teacher giving the lesson? 

We only stayed long enough to feel completely at home there, which only took about 30 seconds! 

Guess that’s just part of my old fashioned soul. I always seem to feel right where I belong, among old hinges and irises. 

The Creek With a Sunset

It’s pretty hectic around here lately. We got our lake house listed with the real estate company a few weeks ago, and since then, I’ve been working on getting our “house” house ready to “get ready” to sell.

Wow! That’s a mouthful! Basically, I’ve been about knee high in stuff. Sorting toys, cleaning closets, making bags for donations, packing, etc. All the normal things that go along with moving.

Today a nice gentleman came and cleaned our carpets and tomorrow my parents are coming to help us paint. The days sure seem overloaded in busy.

But, even in the middle of busy, Little Bit and I have been going to check on the tadpoles. Every few days we drive over to look at them and see if they’ve grown legs.

As of two nights ago, not yet. They still seem quite happy swimming about in their giant puddle. The days have been kind to them and recent rains have kept their home in a decent supply of water.

While there, I am instantly reminded why I feel such a draw to nature. Maybe it’s the simplicity in the way the sounds and colors lend calm even in chaos. Nature puts even the longest to-do lists in their place.

Our upcoming move is starting to get real these days. I feel pretty lucky that even on days filled with have-to-do’s, there’s sort of a mini vacation nearby, at  the creek with a sunset. 

 

First Signs of Spring

I like the idea that winter is a time for nesting and resting, but I’ve got to be honest with you, I’m kind of in love with the fact that March, April, and May have come in and set down their bags. 

It’s almost like the earth sings in spring. Color shows up with bells on, moods lighten, and on the farms, all the babies arrive. 

Seems like with all the newness, braveness and courage sneak in, too. 

Yesterday we completely stepped out of our comfort zone. A homeschool coop hosted an Easter egg hunt at a park in the next town over. An event where we knew no one. At. All. 

Yikes. 

As we walked towards the pavilion filled with families, I looked over at my Little Bit. We were both nervous. About two seconds later, I felt my stomach flip. 

Then suddenly, an unexpected thought came to mind:

Everyone is new once. 

Every. One. Each calf born on the farm, each bud on the dogwood tree, every butterfly that emerges, each family that walks into a new church or play group, and every kindergartener on the first day of school. 

Everyone starts somewhere. 

So, I took a deep breath and a few steps later, we walked into that pavilion. 

Guess what happened! 

Just like the calves, flowers, families, and kindergarteners,  we were met with smiles and warm welcomes in this season of grace. 

I hope that if you have any chance for something new, that you will take it. 

Be that first timer. And then, when it’s someone else’s turn to go first, let’s welcome them like we welcome the first signs of spring. 


Weathered Gray

Although we didn’t have as bad a winter as they’d called for, I’ll sure be glad if spring ever stakes its claim. 

Right now we seem stuck between the two seasons: wearing shorts one day, long underwear the next. 

And, the recurrent theme right now? 

No sun. 

The color of the days falls somewhere in the midst of charcoal smeared with a smidgen of white. 

Yuck. That gets old. 

Something really cool happened a few days ago. We found a place that is the perfect cross between where black and white feel quite at home.

About forty miles from here is a seed farm that is bathed in old fashioned. As soon as our truck door opened, we stepped back into the 1800’s. 

The “town” consists of a blacksmith shop, apothecary, seed store, barn, and a restaurant. 

While bits of color were sprinkled here and there, I was reminded that there is an absolute beauty in weathered gray.