Today so far I’ve: read my Bible/journaled while sipping black coffee from my lovely 🥰 pastel thrifted woodland creature mug, read some things I’m studying (more about my DIY Women’s Well Refresh later, hopefully), sent a reminder email for our local mom’s homeschool group, listened to Studio Ghibli soundtracks, took a short walk among the cool morning sunshine while listening to Magyk by Angie Sage audiobook (I’m loving it). I took a shower and dug out a comfy sweatshirt because it’s chilly today, I made myself a breakfast of plain yogurt, banana, cashew butter, cinnamon, and oats! I supervised children doing their maths and found sweatshirts for little kids planting the garden with their 15yo sister. I talked about dyeing things with dye made from dandelions and tried to figure out what to cook for meals today since the stove is getting a little TLC. I sent three older ‘kids’ off to various jobs, one having to borrow my van, because a car battery needed jumping. I talked about drawing books, schedules, and What is Poetry? by Michael Rosen with various family members. My 15 yo and I talked about how we can secretly make my hubby’s favorite mint bars for his upcoming birthday. I helped same child find wrapping paper for her gift. I’ve been praying and finalizing the book discussion, Scriptures, and end of year stuff to share with my mom friends tonight at the last meeting, I ended up dumping potatoes in the Instapot for a baked potato bar lunch. I’ve been listening with (thankfully) an amused heart to a recorder being played upstairs. I’ve been putting books on hold to read aloud and for planning our new home learning year. I’ve been digging into this blog for all her WONDERFUL inspiration and resources. I’ve been listening to this and something is stewing in my heart to share in my next article for Sisters of the Wooden Spoon. I’ve been reevaluating my health and my media usage, setting up accountability for both…
And it’s noon, now. 😁♥️ Time to return to this wonderful life I’ve been gifted, lunch, and the Winnie-the-Pooh audiobook, Pictures of HollisWoods, On the Banks of Plum Creek, and narrations. I think I’ll cook some sausage on my pancake griddle 🤣 and put taco soup in the crockpot for dinner.
I share this because I’m just SO grateful for life and I love reading about other women’s days. 😄♥️ Bless your Tuesday. I’d love if you’d share below your day! 😍🌿
But where Thou dwellest, Lord, No other thought should be, Once duly welcomed and adored, How should I part with Thee? Bethlehem must lose Thee soon, but Thou wilt grace The single heart to be Thy sure abiding-place.
I’ve been plugging away at my devotionals, Bible, reading, and journaling. I’ve really tried to concentrate and put a little more focus into it as I had gotten so distracted this summer during my meditation time. I’ve also noticed I’ve really enjoyed taking notes at church, helping me to concentrate. There’s so many things the Lord has been showing me, He is SO faithful! I’m excited about Advent readings soon.
Physical
I’m back in my food program called Bright Line Eating. It has been a bit bumpy, but October was the best so far! I’ve been texting a friend for accountability and that’s really helped. Writing my food down for each day helps with not making bad, emotional decisions. I’ve gone back to Instagram after a 10 month break for the purpose of using it as an encouragement to others, but also to keep myself accountable in many areas. I will watch carefully my usage. I’ve been re-listening to Rezoom by Susan Peirce Thompson and it’s been to good to refresh myself. I have to be purposeful about my health, so I can be of service to others.
My son took this picture! ♥️✨🍁🍂
Mental
I’m challenging myself to read a little deeper and I have some great buddy reads lined up in November. Dombey & Son, The Makioka Sisters, Countess Kate by Charlotte Mary Yonge, and Julie by Catherine Marshall. Nourishing food for my brain instead of “candy”. I’ve been reading more poetry, especially Emily Bronte, Rilke, and Sara Teasdale. I’m trying to write more poetry too, as a healthy, healing way to work through emotions and feelings (instead of eating and binging on media). I’m thinking on the tagline, “rage and grace”, that I saw on the artist RM’s Instagram a few days ago.
Emotional
This ties into the mental category too, while in reality, all of this is in relationship together, but I’ve been journaling, writing penpals, taking nature photos, and dipping into seasonal books. Taking drives in nature (the leaves!!!!) and keeping track of the moon phases has been a relaxing and enjoyable experience lately. God’s creation is a gift given for the taking if I just open my eyes and heart and RECEIVE. ♥️✨
Servanthood
Our homeschool activities are in full swing and it’s been good and stretching for me to give! 😬🥱😂 We’ve been getting back into better daily rhythms and I’m continually learning that servanthood can mean something as simple as shutting my mouth and listening. 😶🤐😂♥️
First snow, leaves in glass ✨🍁🍂♥️
Blessed are you who hunger now, for you shall be satisfied.
from The Beatitudes, Jesus
Light ✨
How about you? How are you doing? I’d love to chat in comments or drop me an email! 🌾🎃♥️🍄✨🍁🖤🍂💌📚 Blessings over your new November month ahead!
Hello 👋 friends! Happy Friday to you…it’s deliciously gray and rainy here today. We’re snuggling up with our homeschool books, tea, and possibly watching It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown and maybe a little of BBC’s Return to Cranford later. I want to invite you to read this BEAUTIFUL blog series by Elizabeth over at ponderings from the inglenook. I’ve been so inspired and I’ve only read a few so far! Unfortunately, I’m unable to comment (technical difficulties?!), but I’m joining the conversation in my heart and overflowing with joy for the sweet simplicity and delight of her posts. Will you join me?
Original Painting by Lore Pemberton. My friend protecting her plants.Image originally from National Geographic 1976.
These three above selections were shared by my friend and this is what I think has been brewing for awhile in my heart, but started coming out as I simmered a bit over them. A collage of bits of letters, ephemera, and poetry for you! ♥️🌿
Watching… has anyone watched this web series based on Jane Austen’s Emma? I’m very curious!
Noticing… my clothesline and beauty even during a drought!
My BTS love is unexplainable 😂, and someone told me it is my tame midlife crisis. 🤣🤓 I think finding them during covid places them in a special place in my heart. Weirder things happened during covid than me getting into one K-pop band. 😵💫🤷🏻♀️😉💜💜💜💜💜💜💜Coffee with a beloved sister ♥️
What are some wonders you’ve noticed lately? I’d love to hear in comments! I’m so grateful for LIFE more abundant!💜♥️💜🌿🌿🌿
The early morning tickle of light burns pink and delightful over the snow and cuts through the intense cold. I’ve been snuggling into warm sweaters {sometimes, two at a time!}, jackets, and soothing stories. Early mornings, especially, have been for putzing around, fiddling with my coffee, rearranging books, obsessively checking my paperwhites to see if they are blooming, trying to suck any bit of hope into my spirit from green things. And let’s talk of light chasing. I often find a patch of sun and close my eyes as I stand in its comforting square. Or gaze at the flicker of candlelight, or hold my hands to the wood burner’s glow. Light around corners, light from the heavens, crystal shards through the sharp refrigerator nights, my breath puffing a halo around me. My rereading of Elizabeth Goudge stories is going to be one of endless delight and delicious mind sustenance. I can tell already and I’ve barely dipped into her massive pile of beautiful words. Yes, I’ve slowly begin rereading her and searching for those I don’t yet have in my collection. The crockpot has been bubbling nonstop {my Instapot, too, albeit something seems to be amiss with the cover! 😦 } with chicken taco soup and chilis. Big fluffy socks, moccasin slippers, peppermint mint tea, and finishing off the coffee with a hint of Christmas scent, along with the children’s copious amounts of hot chocolates with a large side of books have been the order of our days.
We finally packed dear ‘ole man Christmas away, wistfully, and full of gratitude for the cheer, remembrance, and sparkle he brings to winter. Back to Miss Goudge, The Scent of Water, brought me through a tough week mentally, mid January, and Snow & Rose, added a sprinkle of whimsy, too. Although, I’m jealous of those that read Emily Winfield Martin’s sweet book for the first time, the little surprises weren’t there on my second read. Wives & Daughters is bringing me so many friends I wish to know and others I’d not care to be around, looking at you Hyacinth Clare *glares*. Poor Mr. Gibson and Molly!
Taking my tea with me to the post! Sending penpal letters and cards is really a delight!
The class system in Elizabeth Gaskell’s story is so unfathomable to me in my independent, pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps 21st American mentality. How women had to move about to be proper is fascinating and sobering. But for all its flaws, this Victorian novel is showing the love of one’s family, connections, and it can’t help but pull you in. Gaskell’s characters are so intriguing, mirror-like for ones soul. Molly Gibson’s too accommodating nature, a peace lover at all costs, even to the determent of herself and those she loves is a bit to close to home for comfort. I wonder if she’s an Enneagram 9? HA! 😉 Mr. Gibson’s deep, interesting character, but his extreme resistance to showing his true feelings reminding me a little of Elinor Dashwood. He keeps his regrets, mistakes, and joys close to his heart. Roger Hamley’s open, curious, kindhearted character falling for beauty without the careful observation that he gives his scientific life, Osborne and Squire Hamley. The Hamley family being probably my favorite friends to follow from Wives & Daughters. The 1999 tv mini series has actually been pretty true to the book! Yes, I watched before reading. I can’t wait to tackle the rest of Gaskell’s novels that I’ve yet to read, as North & South, Ruth, and Wives & Daughters, haven’t disappointed. I know just which one to pull into my lap next as I already have it on my shelves. Mary Barton is waiting and beckoning to me from my TBR pile of possibilities for this year.
My heart is anticipating and super excited to join a book challenge on Instagram/Booktube next month called FebRegency. We will be reading Regency plays, poetry, nonfic, and Regency novels mentioned in Jane Austen’s work. I actually want to reread Mansfield Park, dip my toes in William Wordsworth and William Blake’s poetry, try a Richard Sheridan play, read a few diary entries by Dorothy Wordsworth, and maybe a novelist that inspired Jane Austen, Maria Edgeworth, or Fanny Burnley. The cold, hard Kindle is coming through for me, due to a lot of these things above being free or inexpensive. ❤ So exciting! But, I’m choosing to curb the expectation a bit and S-L-O-W-L-Y enjoy the ten remaining days of January.
If all else fails and my heart needs a little lighter fare, but no less deep, the kindly post brought a volume containing the richness that is Professor Tolkien’s Smith of Wootton Major and Farmer Giles of Ham with lovely illustrations by Pauline Baynes of Narnia fame.
Our reading together and nature gratitude continues in our homeschool with our first ever phenology wheel nature journaling project for the year and interesting dips and conversations surrounding The Old Farmer’s Almanac. The Yearling and White Fang have been spotted curled up with various children and Rosemary Sutcliff’s illustrated-by-Alan-Lee versions of The Illiad and The Odyssey are well loved. We keep stumbling forward through the mysterious, beautiful, and maddening world of maths, spelling, the frightening current news, topping it all off with a generous dollop of poetry and music. I’ve been enjoying listening to Spiers & Boden, The Hobbit Soundtrack, Enya, Louis Armstrong, Studio Ghibli Soundtracks, and BTS Kpop. How’s that for eclectic? But the good Lord’s earth is a veritable feast of delights for the taking. I for one want to fight back against the ice, darkness, and cold of this world with a tenacity that rages against it all with a whisper of gratitude, open-handed humility, and a shard of Beauty and Truth – He is strength to the poor, strength to the needy in their distress, a refuge from the storm, and shade from the heat {paraphrasing a tender morsel from the Book of Isaiah, Chapter 25}. I see Jesus as my lighthouse, stalwart and aflame in this black, inkiness that enshrouds earth. I grab ahold of a beam of the light, drink it down, eat it up, and try to let it shine out, so others can join me along the murky path. Shine on, friends, keep drinking in, soaking in His beauty so we can spill a little out, a drip, a dribble of Hope. We need Hope. Hope on. ~
I took to the meadows today. Cloud shadows hover over a section of far-flung woods. Clouds that are low-lying, pancake-like, stretching on to eternity. Green-gold topped with clear blue are the hues of the moment, a bit of scarlet thrown in for extra flourish. A gentle hum and a soft rustle are my background music, the distant shrillness of machinery cutting rudely in. A small getaway, pens and journals in hand, a small step for the restoration of this mother-kind.
It was a week of relationship work, of gathering together with people. The hard-heart- softening work. Charlotte Mason shares that character is the purpose of education and surely she must mean mostly the mother’s character. Encircling little cousins that visited, comforting aches and pains, you know the stuff life is made of. A birthday party, sunflower-y cake celebrating another niece. A grandpa visiting at dinner time a few nights, homemade pizza, and eking out the last few garden watermelons ripe with late summer. Homeschool friends gathering around the craft and drawing table, turning ears, lifting voices, searching the depths of Van Gogh’s “The Potato Eaters.” Chocolate chip zucchini muffins shared and lovely conversations with other mothers. Francis Bacon and Jane Austen’s Persuasion discussed and quotes swapped. The long van rides, parking next to the riot of purple morning glories, heart leaves twining around my own fleshly heart. The long minutes spent talking, listening, soothing. The loudness of it all becoming magnified by low sleep. My comfy bedside chair became a revolving door for hurts, concerns, laughs, plans, book chats, and dreams. Heavy chair.
The spent, shriveled Queen Anne’s lace nods it’s weary head next to mine. The long expanse and deep view of it all overwhelms me. The wind whips my page over, a glorious, grassy, earthy, clover-y smell dives deep into my nostrils, winging through my lungs, truly refreshing. Beyond the ridge, up and out of a valley of trees, a golden soybean (or is it wheat?) field lies as a bright beacon drawing my thirsty eyes. It reminds me of the hymn I’ve been reading with the children called “Come to Jesus” by Fredrick Faber and how I read it this week accompanied with music. There’s certainly a wideness in God’s mercy, a wideness of the sea or even these vast fields. A small spider crawls up a large weed stalk next to my chair. Oh, my soul sings.
The exhaustion, countless meals, and the schedule threatening to drown unless I stop to see. To admire the three leaves with pale mimicking triangles on the clover, the grasshoppers, and yes, again with those clouds. The beauty of another week becomes my Saturday song. Sure, there were discordant moments, a screech here, and a blast there, but I see. In the midst of reading Mark in the Holy Scriptures together at the hot oatmeal breakfast table, rolling out dough, wiping noses, giving neutralizer treatments. During the washing and drying of towels till they’re soft, fragrant, and fluffy, I see just that small bit of glory. I see a little of the “peace that just begins when ambition ends.”* I’m reminded that I’m on a journey, I don’t need to rush, worry. I can just watch the bumblebee on the goldenrod, wash a dish fresh, open a soybean and a milkweed pod with my 7 yo, walk through grass and white clover, with the dew dampening my toes, steam rising from my coffee. I get to read piles of board books to my 5 yo and 5 month old, catch the edges of fog that lies in the ditches, around corners, and under trees, walk out after late night nursing sessions to gaze at the stars. I get to read about the Knit Your Bit campaign during the World Wars to the intrigue and delight of the children, light the black taper candles as the night draws to a close, and I am always amazed at the little tune of gratitude just hovering inches away ready for me to snatch if I will just listen, if I will just see.
I flicked on the faucet, filling my coffee pot. There at the bottom of the sink, a common cricket surprised me, a delightful friend to great the wee hours of the morn with. A weariness stole over me, yet I felt good about the fact that it was Friday and we’d made it. A full week of back to (home)school and it was lovely. Yes, of course, a favorite coffee mug was broken, paint got on the kitchen table, laundry did not get done, wrongs to wrangle and mend, and there were a few tears shed (not just by me, either). But oh, the joy of Phillis Wheatley’s poetry read, intriguing mix of Greek myth, Christianity, and her ironic, heart-wrenching thankfulness for the coming freedom of the American colonies. My unkempt hair falling in my face (I desperately need a hair cut), while talking over philosophy (Ourselves by Charlotte Mason) with my two older boys about our dual selves and one of them comparing it to that cartoonish picture of the devil and angel on our shoulders, lends a sobering blend of joy and holy seriousness to what I get to do as a homeschooling mother. Silence and contemplation over mysterious bits from George MacDonald in his At the Back of North Wind. In our afternoon free time, my 12 yo son and I have been enjoying reading and discussing Howl’s Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones. I had planned on a shift into our autumn menu, chili, chicken noodle soup, and roasted veggies with sausage. I’ve had to scramble a bit as the temperatures tricked us by dropping and then sultry sunshine slipping back in. We made due and sometimes soup was sipped to the hum of the air conditioner. This seems to be the year of Wisconsin (and England!) geography trails and deeper digging into science, but with glorious LIVING, breathing books at the helm. The early morning math figuring together, each child rotating to me for help, has worked wonderful this first week, it’s amazing the things we talk about as we fill up with ideas. We had a long ramble on our beautiful gravel road, the dog gamboling ahead of us, darting in and out of the neighbor’s corn, the butterflies following us. “The butterflies are my friends,” the sweet, sensitive 5 yo tells me. Common Buckeye, Red Admiral, Sulfurs, and Monarch are still swishing lightly through these last dog days of September summer. Can you believe that Monday is the official first day of autumn? My sleep deprivation has reached new heights, a darling, chunky almost 5 month old baby boy smiles at me, making it worth it, but not any less hard. I was able grab a few secret moments to dip into this strangely imaginative book about writing and run away to Italy for a bit in Von Arnim’s The Enchanted April. Paint brushes dipped into watercolors remind me of the Staghorn Sumac tips now, brilliantly red-tipped. A few Christmas gifts have begun to get a jump start, and the oven is being used for more bread and cookies. Our favorite Elevenses snack began again, a giant bowl of popcorn and mugs of hot chocolate (yes, even with the heat! Old habits die hard.), hymns and folk-songs playing. It brings back so many memories of the countless pages read, conversations, and the life lived, learned, deep love planted around this old, hand-me-down table. The seasons ebb and flow, like one of those time-lapse videos, in my head. It’s so good to be back here again.
~
Few things that blessed me this first back to school week:
Each day the world is born anew
For him who takes it rightly…
Rightly? that’s simply!- ’tis to see
Some Substance casts these shadows
which we call Life and History…
Simply? That’s nobly! – ’tis to know
That God may still be met with, –
Nor groweth old, nor doth bestow
These senses fine, this brain aglow,
To grovel and forget with!
Lowell, The Cloud of Witness, p. 380
Psalm 23 (emphasis mine) NASB
The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside quiet waters. He restores my soul; He guides me in the paths of righteousness For His name’s sake.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You have anointed my head with oil; My cup overflows. Surely goodness and lovingkindness will follow me all the days of my life, And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
May I put life on pause and catch up on sleep? Can I find some space from the children to plan for the children, an upcoming school term, with thoughtfulness, grace, and purpose? Is there anything more beautiful than barn swallows swooping through the light pink and pale blue early morn? Is there a reason I feel like crying even though I have a supremely blessed life? How do I conquer all the piles in my home, piles of books, piles of clothing, piles of fabric for curtains, piles of hopes, dreams, piles of dishes needing tender loving care? How can I not miss the moments that are flying by, the teeny toes, the little eyes looking at me with their own questions pooling deep behind, and the butterfly fluttering on by? How can I enjoy the warmth and sunshine of summer from my deep, dark nursing chair cave, a sticky, squirming, DARLING, boy suckling from my breast? Where do I find mental room for on-going, never-stopping conversation swirling, rising and falling around me? How does my marriage grow and become beautiful without attention? Where do I find the well of energy, creativity, and get-up-and-go to cook for these lovely eaters here? Where do daring dreams go when they are crowded out by equal and lovely daily dreams? How does the weight melt off when one finds themselves in a sitting season? How do you know what is the next right thing to do? Where does one go after the last sip of delicious morning coffee or afternoon tea is gone, the empty bottom of cup reminding you of something? How do you find a prayer to pray when the reservoir is dry? How do you answer all these exhausted questions that float up and out and settle on down around your bowed shoulders? How do we take up our cross and follow when our ground lies fallow?
Just a few of the questions I’m asking myself today.
Rain is falling, concentric splatters on the puddles in my driveway. My mind is all-a-swirl as we are finishing up our second week of home education here at Hearth Ridge Farm. Yesterday afternoon, I snuggled down and read the book The Wolves of Willoughby Chase by Joan Aiken, and was thoroughly delighted. Just what I needed at the moment. An escape to England, mysterious wolves, big, beautiful houses with hidden passageways, and endearing children to cheer along the way. The beauty of story. It made me think about the piles of scribbles I have laying all about my house, the discarded ideas, the dusty laptop. The brilliant purple morning glories are dripping wet, a fog and wetness hanging around these last few days. I can’t resist admiring the way their beauty and green tendrils sneak in and out, through and under, a lovely vein of happiness through the outside of my deck. How story and beauty keep us moving forward, their beauty splashing against the gray of dishes, discouragement, and ugly despair of our world. The poem, The Chairs That No One Sits In, a gentle, almost silent-sort-of plea for that elusive something that we often forget, that we drown by the incessant Sirens of our day. The cooling down the past couple of days, the the red tinges peeping out, my daughter exclaiming with delight over the leaves “following” our vehicle, the tinkling, crunching noise and movement swirling up around us, so very beautiful. Autumn is our guest arriving Saturday, and I’m warming up to its cool promise of sweaters and more afternoon teas. I was delighted as I drove through the changing countryside on Tuesday, listening to two kindred-spirit creatives talk on mystery, writing, and just general lovely bookishness. I notice another flower friend, my poor geranium is still hanging on, by the way, a mystery and delight to me, because it is long overdue for a re-potting and often gets neglected. Again, that splash of something that cuts through the piles and dust and smells of life. Reality doesn’t change, but I can make one step forward, parting the waters, one more song to carry me on my way, one more beautiful image, word, and thought that brings me and those around me hope.
A.M. Pine - Hearth Ridge Reflections 