The Magic of Morning Music

As the season has shifted so has our daily routine.  It seems the simple shinning of the sun has become an instant invitation to abandon whatever work we should be doing inside and by 8 am half the household has found their way to "free play" outside. It has been hard to wrangle them back in because I too want play.  There have been more than a few days where no books were cracked and a whole day's dishes have been left till 10:30 pm, all for the sake of outdoor fun.

So now I am hearing the call back to establishing a rhythm and routine.  Here's how I'd like our mornings to go:

6:00 am I'm up and tip toe into personal study time

6:30 am quiet exercise or project time

7:30 am kids wake up/personal prayers/make beds/tidy rooms/get dressed - I do meal prep for breakfast, lunch and dinner

8:00 am family scripture study

8:30 am breakfast

9:00 am milking/farm chores/breakfast clean-up

9:30 am house chores

10:00 am morning meeting with mom to report what was done and discuss plans for the day

10:30 am play outside or organized project outside

12:00 pm lunch

Oh how easy it looks on paper!  The reality is it is not easy to gain full cooperation, and it only takes the resistance of one individual to throw us 2 hours behind.  

I've tried yelling in the past, it does get us all moving but not necessarily in the right direction.  We've tried many different reward systems as well, they work for a time and always seem to fizzle out.  Right now though I am reminded of the magic of morning music, of setting a tone for the day.  I've found with just the right music our chores can be fun.     

Lately the kids have been responding well to modern remakes of Elvis songs from the  Honeymoon in Vegas soundtrack.   I tell them once the rooms are cleared and swept they can have a rock party.  I can't say this works for the older batch, they only roll their eyes and plug their ears at my singing into the broom.  But keeping the younger kids happy (if not helping) while we clean is nearly half the chore.  

Other album favorites include Putumayo World playground, Elizabeth Mitchell, Kodo drummers, Heather Forest, and Frankie Smith's Double Dutch Bus.  The mix is as eclectic as our personalities, moods and moves!

A smooth morning is a gift, oh the possibilities for our day!

12:30 pm we clean up lunch and move into quiet time/naptime for the youngest

1:00 pm- 4:00 pm is school time and what that means is different for each individual.  For me I am attending to my crash courses in farming and gardening, drifting around helping and shushing and sometimes napping with the younger ones.

4:00 pm certainly deserves a snack and for those who have completed their school work the invitation is open to free play or DIY projects inside or out- and of course the invitation is always open to help me in the garden 

5:30 pm is dinner prep

6:00 pm dinner

6:30 pm baths and clean up

7:00 pm bedtime for youngest three

8:00 pm bedtime for the next three

9:00 pm tuck in animals and milking

9:30 pm bedtime for the oldest two (but sometimes we hang till 10 pm eating ice cream and talking) I use to beg them to go to sleep but these days I beg them to "hang out" just a little bit longer

10:30 pm hopefully I'm not facing a days worth of dishes, or worse, lost in the land of pinterest - hopefully I'm tiptoeing into bed

These days are moving fast, sunset comes at us quick and it seems my children are taller every day. May these containers of time I wish to create be blessed with cooperation and music, and when they are not, may I relax into the experiences life wishes to offer.   

A day of work and an unlikely dinner hit

It was a beautiful day! Here's how we spent it.

By the time all were hungry I wasn't sure there was anything left in me to cook, simply lifting a wooden spoon felt like a chore; and the fridge was running on empty as well.  

Luckily on the stove I already had some simmering broth, in the fridge I found a bowl of leftover rice and the last of some whipping cream.  In the pantry was stored some dehydrated onions and the last of last year's garlic.  The real prize to this meal though was the nettles in the garden!  I threw it all together and sprinkled it with fresh nutmeg with out a care of what the response from my customers would be.

It proved to be a hit!  Some pretended not to like it but I caught them serving up more than two bowlfuls.  And Charlie out of no where cried out "yummy, yummy"!  

DIY-ing

Lately our family has been immersed in DIY projects.  It seems thereis no end to the ideas.  Here are some of the recent ones:

 "The sheet castle"  

"The castle jail"

 Peter's field goal post

A book Maryanna wrote for Henry's birthday

A cherry bowl Paul turned at a friend's house with William and Peter

Clara made this small ball out of scraps and tape and Peter knitted these animals.  They were presented to Henry on his birthday.

In addition to the gifts above Paul and the older boys made this see saw for Henry's birthday.  The plans are from Ana White

We all painted it the day of his birthday

Here is our garden starting project with the newspaper cups the kids rolled

 And here is George (again, absolutely no clothes) planting his bush beans in the front yard.  He's been carrying those seeds around with him since Paul's parents gave them to him on Monday.  Kind of like Johnny Apple seed he's been scattering them all over. 

I don't have much to show for myself.  I did have a project planned for Henry's birthday but never got around to finishing it.  Too busy cleaning up everyone else's DIY's!

19 baby chicks and ice cream at midnight

This box of chirping chicks arrived early Monday morning and that day proved to be full.

We've never ordered chicks before.  Our first batch of chickens were picked up on Craig's list and then after we had the rooster we had a few chicks raised by the hens Mendori and Cupcake.

For this batch I let each child select one breed. We ordered 2 Delawares, 2 White Wyandottes, 2 White Orpingtons, 4 Black Australorps, 2 Buff Cochins, 2 Buff Laced Polish, 1 Dorking, 1 Phoenix, 1 Cuckoo Maran, 1 Easter Egger and 1 mystery chick. 

This was something new; it was an exciting package for us all!

 First each chick was given a dip of fresh water.

And then a hug.........

and many threatening squeals from this baby with a found toothbrush.

Aside from the baby, I believe my children are mastering the art of quiet observation; and oh how I love to catch them in this state.

Now for the rest of the story.  

I wasn't exactly ready for the chicks the morning they arrived.  I thought I selected "the week of April 29", not early morning April 29.  I thought I'd have more time to get totally ready for them.  We were lucky to pull it all together with some second hand brooding supplies just before it was time to milk.  

I was not careful enough in studying the appropriate bedding for baby chicks.  The package of cedar chips waiting in the tack room was from an experienced chicken keeper so I did not think twice. 

A neighbor was by to visit the chicks and had some concern with the use of them, I reassured her it was fine and finished out the day.  By midnight her concern was haunting me; I visited the little chicks and they did seem stressed.  I picked up a couple of my chicken books and sure enough in italics I read cedar chips are toxic to chicks! 

Paul was out of town and I was not in the mood to fix this problem on my own so I tiptoed to the bed of the boy who loves chickens the most.  I whispered, "William, William I need some help with the chicks".  He just grunted so I pleaded again.  Still no response so I said, "Hey William, I was wondering if you'd like to share a bowl of ice cream with me".  He lids immediately lifted.  

Down in the kitchen I explained the situation as I scooped the ice cream.  We discussed possible solutions and decided to get some straw instead and lay an old towel on top. Then as we were moving them over we discovered more than half of them had compacted poop under their feathers; perhaps they were eating the cedar chips or maybe it was just due to the stress of them.  

One by one we picked them up and with a package of baby wipes wiped their tiny bums.  A few were harder than others and we had to gently tear some feathers away.  Just the thing I'd like to be doing at 12:30 am.  

The crazy thing about exposed skin on the chicks is it causes the other chicks to peck at it.  So the thought came to me to look for some comfrey in the garden, it would both distract the chicks and assist in healing the wounds.

I've never been in the garden at 1 am and experienced a whole new perspective.  The night was clear and William and I took the opportunity to observe the sky.  Did you know there is something about star gazing that freezes time?  We soon remembered the chicks, fed them the comfrey, treated them to a spray of rescue remedy and they soon dropped in a pile of sleep.

William and I soon found our ways back to our pillows as well, but before parting I hugged him so tight and thanked him for his willing hands here on the farm, he returned the hug and thanked me for the ice cream.

Just yesterday I shared this story with a friend, I wondered openly if I was taking on too much, this I did as I was loading 8 of my own children and 2 little goat kids into the van.  With a sparkle in her eye she reached her arms to the sky and declared "this is experience! And what a blessing it is". 

Peace making

To my dear friends, old friends and friends I've never met, thank you so much for all your kind words and support in response to my last post.  My journey here on the farm feels far less lonely knowing that in some ways you may be walking along.  And so I share the continuation of this week's story.

I regret to say that I was unable to hold clarity for most of the week.  I experienced a dark cloud and many tears as I processed the unkind message that was conveyed to me.  I do not blame the individual who spoke the words because his words would have held no power if I did not already believe them somewhere within myself.

I struggled openly in front of my family, they heard me cry and even scream out that "if that neighbor showed up on our property I was going to throw a brick at his head".  I went through many moments of blaming Paul for all the visible imperfections and unfinished projects around the property.  I openly questioned, with all the demands the farm presents, if it was sustainable for us to even live here.

This was an opportunity for self reflection and finding peace within myself.  This process of soul work is not always easy and automatic, it takes honesty and focus and it is work.  This is where one may draw much strength from the foundation of a disciplined spiritual practice.  Before making peace with anyone else I had to make peace with myself.  

I let more than a few meals slide, spent more time with the goats than usual and let the kids watch movies as I retreated to quiet corners of our home for solace.

Little by little I regained my shine.  However, every time I looked out my window in the direction of our neighbor my stomach would turn.  I wondered what really happened and why it happened, I wondered if they knew how bad I was hurting and if we'd ever talk again.

Somewhere in the middle of the night the message came clearly to me, you may pray for peace and you may preach of peace but one must practice peace.  I knew it was time for me to build a bridge of peace towards my neighbor.  

This would be a courageous move.  I feared another verbal attack, I feared that if I spoke so honestly and vulnerably that I'd be accused of emotional instability or hormonal imbalance.  I moved through the fear and with heart pounding made my way to their porch.

When I was greeted at the door I stayed focused on my heart's intent and simply stated that I was there to make peace.  I melted into the embrace of the wife who was too sick to stand in my defense the night I visited.  She then said she'd been having nightmares about us moving and so didn't want us to move.

I then met eyes with the offender.  I again told him how bad his words had hurt me, I told him I had once been called a failure by my viola teacher when I was 12 years old and soon after quit the viola.  I told him over the course of the last couple days I considered quitting farming, but decided instead to let go of my attachment to the outcome.

Our intention for living on the farm goes far deeper than the food we are trying to produce.  We are here to nurture connections, connection to our Creator, connection to ourselves, connection within our family and certainly connection to our neighbors and community.  

With glossy eyes I told them how much I appreciated the generosity they have shown our family and how much I dearly loved them.  And I have to say this is not a conversation or opening one often has with a neighbor, it may have felt a bit awkward for them.  For me though I just went with the honesty that was within me, I stayed focused on my heart's intent of making peace.

And peace was made.  

I also shared with them the outburst I had about throwing the brick and apologized for such a violent suggestion.  They laughed and on the way out they led me to their brick pile just in case I ever needed one. 

I embraced both of them before heading home and felt a lightness that is hard to describe.

I honestly can't remember if an exact apology was made, it didn't matter because I had truly forgiven the individual and the weight of the experience had miraculously been lifted.  

I wonder now of many past experiences that still fester within me at times.  The numerous times I chose to avoid conflict instead of resolving conflict.  

Yes, resolving conflict can be uncomfortable but nothing more could be so healing. So grateful for all this experience has taught me.               

Beautiful Life

Last night I thought it would be a good idea to go to bed early so I sent the boys to do the 9 pm milking.  

It was cold and drizzling outside and just as my head nestled down into the pillow I heard the frantic stomp of muddy farm boots marching their way up the steps.  "Mom - there's something coming out of Yuleme"!  

I could have been quicker finding my way out the barn but honestly I was terrified, you think I'd be cool with birth by now?! I very slowly suited up in my overalls and before I could pull on my boots Paul came running in  - "come quick, the head is out".  James, William and Peter were there calmly encouraging the goat and something very unexpected happened, I bolted from the barn in fear.  Under the light of the moon I experienced full body shakes as if it was I that was about to deliver a baby.  Paul came right behind me shouting "what are you doing? get back in the barn, you can't run from this"! I made the excuse of finding my phone and calling an experienced goat owner, which I did.  I grabbed a handful of flower essences, got down on my knees and said a prayer for courage, then before making it to my feet practiced a few rounds of slow concentrated breathing, my favorite labor tool.

Someone came running in - "the baby's out and there is another one coming".  So back I was in the barn.  I found courage in the look of wonder shared on the faces of my three oldest boys.  James was almost in tears as he whispered, "I have never seen something so amazing in my life".  He was not averse to the stickiness of birth and gently helped clean the little goat kid as Yuleme worked on the next arrival.  And what a relief when she fully appeared.   

 

Here is proud mama Yuleme with her baby buck "Spike" (9lbs) and little doe "Greta" (6 1/2 lbs)

Yuleme is a natural mother and we are allowing the kids to nurse.  Just to be sure they are getting enough though we milk her and offer 6 oz every 4 hours.   Paul and I took the middle of the night shifts but during waking hours the children are more than happy to help with this farm chore.

Somewhere in the middle of caring for and feeding these baby goats, and caring for and feeding my own children I prepared some soup for a family that was ill.  I was very tired but stayed a bit and visited with them because on most occassions I really enjoy their company.  Out of no where I suffered an undeserved verbal attack, it was communicated to me that I was failing in my endeavors as a farmer, that our place was falling apart and I would never live up to the way the previous owners performed as a neighbor. 

I courageously stated that I would bear no more, I looked the individual deep in the eyes and said I was really hurt, that I had been hit to the core of my deepest insecurities.  I validated some of what he said - it is true we have a few busted fences, it is true my husband's career barely allows time for even the minimum hand around the farm, it is true that my garden cultivated giant weeds, it is true the garden beds are untidy and the grapes remain unpruned! It is true that goat blood makes me uneasy, it is true there may be plans and projects that will never be finished, it is true that I may not be physically strong enough to handle a chain saw and even true that there are days both my hair and dishes remain unwashed.  AND I returned with the truth that we all permission to live our lives the best we can.

Looking back there was so much  more I wish I could have said but the truth is by the time I got in the car I was shaking as I had the night before when it was time to attend the goat birth.  And by the time I was parked at home I could not hold back the crying, it was loud and Paul came running out to see what had happened.  Paul encouraged me to look at our surroundings with different eyes, and reminded me that visiting the goats always makes me feel better.  So I did.

My visit with the goats was healing.  I was able to see and feel more clearly.  I spoke truth to myself as life really is and the truth is, Life is more beautiful than any Pinterest board, blog photo or Country Gardens magazine or neighbor could ever cultivate.  Outside individuals may see giant weeds and countless signs of imperfection but I am not here to prove perfection, I am here to gain wholeness.  

Life is not what is externally manipulated, Life is what we manifest from the deepest corners of our soul.  I am not failing Life!   

I see light shining in the eyes of my children. I feel my home quake with laughter and the running of their ever growing legs, I see their curiosity displayed in finger prints and scribbles on my walls, I feel their cry and their relief as I offer what only I can give. 

I wonder with them of the mystery one tiny seed can hold,  I join them in song, and I do it with my whole soul until there are tears in my eyes.  With them I can dance a conversation and drink in a poem, I can find comradere with animals and hear whisperings among leaves.  The site of fresh mud tempts me and the feel of dirt through my hand hypnotizes me. The fierce wind and rain slap my face and I receive this reminder that I am so very much alive.      

I kiss my husband passionately and get lost in his embrace.  I stare up at the stars and wonder about existence beyond time................ 

This is who I am on the inside, this is what I willing choose to manifest, even if it costs me the approval of others. 

Because life is too beautiful to be experienced with only a portion of one's whole soul.

I'm actually grateful for the very unneighborly experience that cracked me open today. It has allowed me further permission to fully live even in the face of many imperfections.     

Food Storage to Furniture

I've been searching for a couple of months for the perfect stool for the desk Paul's mom gave me.  Originally the desk was Paul's grandma's vanity but no one knows what happened to the original stool. I've searched thrift stores, ebay, etsy and antique stores but have not been able to find one that would fit perfectly, I came close but they all were at least 1/2" too wide.

When I came across this tutorial I was interested but very skeptical.  The food bucket actually fit the perfect dimensions I was looking for and since I already had almost everything on hand I gave it a try.  The only thing I had to buy was the foam and was very surprised how expensive it was, luckily it was on sale.

Now for the work of it.  In the tutorial it tells you to draft a pattern and use some "finessing" to pull the cover over the bucket.  My finessing was more like a full body wrestle with the stool and still cannot figure out how they got such a perfect fit.  I ended up folding over a piece to cover the very messy seam that split as I tried to pull it over.

It is not perfect but it works and no one would ever imagine it once was a bucket of oats.  I did weigh down the bucket with a bit of water softner salt but I suppose if the sandbox was not covered in snow I would have dug up some sand for that purpose.  

Here it is again at my desk, it has proved to be the perfect solution and combined with the right fabric looks just right where it rests.  Now the girls are waiting for me to make one for their room.