I love coffee.
I just do.
All these people with their hardcore addictions...Secretly I understand because my obcession/adoration of this drink. I can only ever not even look it in the eye when I am pregnant (I made Nathalie's dad grind and brew coffee in the hallway of our apartment building in Portland so that I couldn't smell it...) But that is seriously the only time in life where I haven't simply drooled at the idea.
Cafe au lait, lattes, mochas, espresso, and straight up coffee. (I suppose technically you can't get any straighter then a shot of espresso...it is simply less water and more finely ground...and pressure.)
Travis and I used to go out for super early morning coffee and walks over bridges. We were those people, sitting outside the cafe, waiting at seven a.m. We'd squeeze together on a couch and look at picture books of old English houses or country side. Try to daintily sip coffee, when in reality we both gulp it down so fast it's more like water.
Sigh.
The most used piece of equipment in our kitchen, besides the stove itself, is the french press. That little beauty has been in my world for about ten years. (I love you, french press.)
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Now onto our day... Nathalie came down with a high fever yesterday afternoon. And by evening it wasn't any lower, but she didn't really have any other symptoms. Poor girl. She watched movies and sipped juice through a straw. And then, she found a tick on her head. Ah ha. So not sure what this means...but we will spend the day relaxing and watching to see what happens next. Maybe making a trip to the drug store for some much despised antibiotics...
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Monday, June 27, 2011
Sunday, June 26, 2011
making yoghurt
I've always been slightly freaked about things rotting. Food, that is. Anything going bad and becoming such that it would make me (or anyone else consuming it) sick. I'm a freak for my nice cold fridge. I like it COLD. And if something is supposed to be there, I don't assume it's safe in the back of my car for hours. Raw meat freaks me right out, and yes, I am one of those people who cook pork to death mostly because it scares me.
(being a vegetarian for 20 plus years would do that to a person.)
But anyway. Rotting food scares me.
BUT I totally love yoghurt, cheese, lacto-fermented stuff, sourdough bread (although I don't eat it, I am still slightly obcessed...), kombucha, water kefir...
So the fermentation I'm going on today is yoghurt. We live on the stuff. We have yoghurt lust so badly we are guilty of standing and staring longily into the case at the co-op where it is stored. All the containers...Sigh. The glass jars filled with creamy beautiful full fat jersey cream...well. You know. Obcession. I'm probably worse then he is. I've got dairy fat on the brain so badly that I've been known to eat sour cream straight if I'm in the right mood.
During the end of my pregnancy I started making our own. It has taken a while to get the consistency right, the flavour good and tangy and everything as we would like. Yoghurt is a trial and error experience, but like any other cooking, it's been a fun journey. I am still very aware that the milk is breaking down and becoming (as Sandor Katz would likely put it...) partially predigested. The freak in me is slightly grossed out by that and of course reassured when someone else does that (like the Seven Stars people) but my love and adoration of yoghurt far outweighs my ability to be grossed out by it.
Sigh. Yoghurt love.
And this summer I am searching for water kefir grains and a new kombucha baby if anybody happens to have one to spare. Ours got nasty and was fed to the chickens. They loved it.
(being a vegetarian for 20 plus years would do that to a person.)
But anyway. Rotting food scares me.
BUT I totally love yoghurt, cheese, lacto-fermented stuff, sourdough bread (although I don't eat it, I am still slightly obcessed...), kombucha, water kefir...
So the fermentation I'm going on today is yoghurt. We live on the stuff. We have yoghurt lust so badly we are guilty of standing and staring longily into the case at the co-op where it is stored. All the containers...Sigh. The glass jars filled with creamy beautiful full fat jersey cream...well. You know. Obcession. I'm probably worse then he is. I've got dairy fat on the brain so badly that I've been known to eat sour cream straight if I'm in the right mood.
During the end of my pregnancy I started making our own. It has taken a while to get the consistency right, the flavour good and tangy and everything as we would like. Yoghurt is a trial and error experience, but like any other cooking, it's been a fun journey. I am still very aware that the milk is breaking down and becoming (as Sandor Katz would likely put it...) partially predigested. The freak in me is slightly grossed out by that and of course reassured when someone else does that (like the Seven Stars people) but my love and adoration of yoghurt far outweighs my ability to be grossed out by it.
Sigh. Yoghurt love.
And this summer I am searching for water kefir grains and a new kombucha baby if anybody happens to have one to spare. Ours got nasty and was fed to the chickens. They loved it.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Mamahood and writing.
Being a mama these past six years has changed me in ways beyond comprehension, but truthfully, this far in, I can't really remember what it was like NOT being a mama. What I do remember is summertimes and working late and long hours, I remember doing whatever whenever and being free to just think in terms of my own wants. I remember going to the grocery store and spending $25 for about two weeks worth of groceries. I remember not owning a car and not needing one. (And if I did, riding my thumb as far as it would take me...but don't tell my mom...)
Opening our bedroom door, seeing my girls asleep with all their limbs spread open wide, I just know I wouldn't trade the aching adoration I have for them for any amount of concerts, long bike rides, or cheap dinners. These kiddos rock my world. They are it.
In college I freaked out my boyfriend by telling him all I ever wanted in this world was to write and have babies. He looked at me half-way like I'd lost my marbles, and half way in complete understanding. He knew who I was, and how deeply I wanted this as part of my world. (At least the writing part...)
So here I am, being a mama. And trying to write. Trying to practice this thing once again that I once loved as much as I love my kids. But doing the math, and understanding reality, I haven't done it since my first little one was born. I'm not even stretching the truth with that one. My daughter was born a week after I graduated from college. A HUGE paper was written in the final month of my pregnancy (I was on bed-rest and had ample amounts of time to do it!) and almost nothing since. This paper was seriously every thought I had ever had, and after writing it, I hated the paper itself. I trashed it and saved no copies when I moved four years ago.
In any case, I haven't written a thing until now.
I always have made the assumption that sometime I would get back to it. That mamahood would let me be a writer too, if that is what I really wanted. I've realized the truth of the matter is that to want something, you actually have to DO it, rather then just say you will. (And continue not to.) I guess at this point for me I'm gonna open up Barbara Kingsolver's jar and remember what she said about writing when she was the mama of a young one. She wrote that when she was writing The Bean Trees she would be awake and writing when everyone else was sleeping (her husband and young daughter), hiding in the closet so she wouldn't wake them with her pen scratches and light on. So very considerate of her...
(I let the coffee grinder grind and flush the toilet, open cupboards and sort of tiptoe. Sort of.)
Being a mama lends itself to all sorts of wonderful stories too. I love the idea that you are allowed your second childhood, a glimpse at all the magic that is years past now. What an amazing opportunity.
Opening our bedroom door, seeing my girls asleep with all their limbs spread open wide, I just know I wouldn't trade the aching adoration I have for them for any amount of concerts, long bike rides, or cheap dinners. These kiddos rock my world. They are it.
In college I freaked out my boyfriend by telling him all I ever wanted in this world was to write and have babies. He looked at me half-way like I'd lost my marbles, and half way in complete understanding. He knew who I was, and how deeply I wanted this as part of my world. (At least the writing part...)
So here I am, being a mama. And trying to write. Trying to practice this thing once again that I once loved as much as I love my kids. But doing the math, and understanding reality, I haven't done it since my first little one was born. I'm not even stretching the truth with that one. My daughter was born a week after I graduated from college. A HUGE paper was written in the final month of my pregnancy (I was on bed-rest and had ample amounts of time to do it!) and almost nothing since. This paper was seriously every thought I had ever had, and after writing it, I hated the paper itself. I trashed it and saved no copies when I moved four years ago.
In any case, I haven't written a thing until now.
I always have made the assumption that sometime I would get back to it. That mamahood would let me be a writer too, if that is what I really wanted. I've realized the truth of the matter is that to want something, you actually have to DO it, rather then just say you will. (And continue not to.) I guess at this point for me I'm gonna open up Barbara Kingsolver's jar and remember what she said about writing when she was the mama of a young one. She wrote that when she was writing The Bean Trees she would be awake and writing when everyone else was sleeping (her husband and young daughter), hiding in the closet so she wouldn't wake them with her pen scratches and light on. So very considerate of her...
(I let the coffee grinder grind and flush the toilet, open cupboards and sort of tiptoe. Sort of.)
Being a mama lends itself to all sorts of wonderful stories too. I love the idea that you are allowed your second childhood, a glimpse at all the magic that is years past now. What an amazing opportunity.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Summertime!
And it's not even light yet, and POURING. My family is still snoozing away and I am sitting here in the dark drinking the biggest cup of english breakfast tea with honey and milk, making peace with the fact that it's coming down in buckets out there. Which means no work in the dirt today. Or laundry on the line. Or running on the beach with my beautiful little girls.
Soon enough, huh?
Solstice came and went. A friend told me it was the longest day of the year. And I agreed. It seemed never ending, and by the end of the day, like any other, we were all exhausted.
I guess that is the thing about the days being longer, we try and pack more into them.
today:
gelato eating
lunch with grandpa (my dad) having
puddle stomping
garden checking
laughing
baby washing
papa hugging
almond butter buying
coffee drinking
enjoying.
That's probably enough.
How about you?
Monday, June 20, 2011
After all
Yesterday morning, Stella and I went to the land to see Travis. He was working away on the support system for the addition, carving out the joints in gorgeous long timbers. Heck of a job for father's day on his first celebrated father's day ever, but there he was. My sweet and dedicated love, working away in the woods with all the mosquitoes. That guy. Sometimes it just astounds me how much I adore him and how lucky we are to have him in our worlds.
We brought him a big double latte from Treats. (Fancy coffee...)
He perched himself up on one of the beams with Stella in one arm, coffee in the other as I viciously attacked what once was the garden before the chickens got to it. It still is a garden in many respects, there are so many things that simply volunteered to come up in the very composted horse and cow manure that we spread over it all last year before we planted. Last year we had the craziest squash vines you could ever imagine and tomatoes that would take over the world. And my huge pregnant self was just flat out too exhausted to cope come the end of the growing season, so everything was just kind of left there. So, this year, TONS of teensy (but growing!) tomatoes have come up, as well as some random squash.
So yesterday, all by myself, my little helper watching from a good 10 feet away in the safety of her papa's arms, I pulled so many weeds it felt like I was starting from scratch. My body suddenly recalled what it is like to work so hard...and yeah, it felt wonderful.
Holding a baby is hard work all on it's own, but remembering how to use your body again for something other then house work and dinner making... Yum. Lactic acid and all.
So in the garden the chickens once devoured (before something devoured them...) we now have beets, carrots, tomatoes (!!!), squash, lettuce, kale and a few peas. Not to mention rosa rugosa, lemon balm, chocolate mint, oregano, thyme, and johnny jump ups.
Love love loving it. This is just the best time of year.
We brought him a big double latte from Treats. (Fancy coffee...)
He perched himself up on one of the beams with Stella in one arm, coffee in the other as I viciously attacked what once was the garden before the chickens got to it. It still is a garden in many respects, there are so many things that simply volunteered to come up in the very composted horse and cow manure that we spread over it all last year before we planted. Last year we had the craziest squash vines you could ever imagine and tomatoes that would take over the world. And my huge pregnant self was just flat out too exhausted to cope come the end of the growing season, so everything was just kind of left there. So, this year, TONS of teensy (but growing!) tomatoes have come up, as well as some random squash.
So yesterday, all by myself, my little helper watching from a good 10 feet away in the safety of her papa's arms, I pulled so many weeds it felt like I was starting from scratch. My body suddenly recalled what it is like to work so hard...and yeah, it felt wonderful.
Holding a baby is hard work all on it's own, but remembering how to use your body again for something other then house work and dinner making... Yum. Lactic acid and all.
So in the garden the chickens once devoured (before something devoured them...) we now have beets, carrots, tomatoes (!!!), squash, lettuce, kale and a few peas. Not to mention rosa rugosa, lemon balm, chocolate mint, oregano, thyme, and johnny jump ups.
Love love loving it. This is just the best time of year.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Friday, June 17, 2011
Breath
June feels to me like a big huge sigh after a long wait. Kind of like August when you are just rolling in the abundance of crops and loving every second the free abandon of green. Every day when my daughters and I walk down the hill to our little patch of earth where we planted things, (thanks to our neighbour, Carol, who felt bad for us after our chickens ate everything I put in the ground!!!) we find ourselves waiting. Watching. Listening. And oftimes, praying, that those little seeds will come up and bless us with their nutrient dense yumminess.
I watch my oldest girl plucking lettuce leaves out of the earth and can't help but recall a million dinner times when she said very very adamently "NO. I do not WANT salad. NO." She tucks these little leaves into her mouth, just as she did when she was two years old. I watch her eyes roll back in her head (just like a baby nursing) and know I did something right.
Not much, but that for sure. She watches with baited breath the tiny tomato plants, the peas for their flowers and the beans leaves. She shares my excitement of brand new green shiney leaves and all things growing. Lovely chocolately brown soil and thick compost. So wonderful to hear her say "Is this a weed, Mama? Can I pull this out? And the roots too?"
The littlest one patiently sighs as I stoop over and try and complete garden tasks with her in my arms or the carrier. She isn't so pleased with it when I'm not standing as she would like. But simply will not tolerate me laying her down in the green of the lawn. Any moment she is not attached to me is a bad one in her eyes. Which makes my life very challenging, but I can understand. Being a daughter (and a mama) myself, I understand the connection to mama and the safeness that it provides. She loves to be in my arms. Occasionally she will allow another person to hold her, but I need to be within eyeshot. Her papa is the only one who might maybe be allowed to hold her for a longer stretch. Maybe.
Another June day, and today my girl and my sweetheart are home. It should be wonderful.
I watch my oldest girl plucking lettuce leaves out of the earth and can't help but recall a million dinner times when she said very very adamently "NO. I do not WANT salad. NO." She tucks these little leaves into her mouth, just as she did when she was two years old. I watch her eyes roll back in her head (just like a baby nursing) and know I did something right.
Not much, but that for sure. She watches with baited breath the tiny tomato plants, the peas for their flowers and the beans leaves. She shares my excitement of brand new green shiney leaves and all things growing. Lovely chocolately brown soil and thick compost. So wonderful to hear her say "Is this a weed, Mama? Can I pull this out? And the roots too?"
The littlest one patiently sighs as I stoop over and try and complete garden tasks with her in my arms or the carrier. She isn't so pleased with it when I'm not standing as she would like. But simply will not tolerate me laying her down in the green of the lawn. Any moment she is not attached to me is a bad one in her eyes. Which makes my life very challenging, but I can understand. Being a daughter (and a mama) myself, I understand the connection to mama and the safeness that it provides. She loves to be in my arms. Occasionally she will allow another person to hold her, but I need to be within eyeshot. Her papa is the only one who might maybe be allowed to hold her for a longer stretch. Maybe.
Another June day, and today my girl and my sweetheart are home. It should be wonderful.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Diapers on the line
It's five a.m. So far this morning I have already had one cup of coffee, kissed my sweetie goodbye (he is off to Bar Harbour for work for the day...), and stared aimlessly at the hanging laundry. Got down my seed box once again and tried to figure out (in my unmarked garden...I never mark anything and then forget where I planted stuff) what didn't come up. Peeked at my sleeping girls and fell in love with their big cheeks once again.
Remembered my dreams and realized they held the very stuff of life...death and love. Someone told me that death in dream just means rebirth...but that's hard for me to swallow. I woke in tears and didn't want to be where I was in my sleep. Feeling my sweet little one beside me in our too large bed when I finally came back to this consciousness was a sort of sweet relief.
Today is Nathalie's last day of school. And then she is a big 1st grader.
We have big plans for the afternoon...of the celebration sort...we made it through...
Remembered my dreams and realized they held the very stuff of life...death and love. Someone told me that death in dream just means rebirth...but that's hard for me to swallow. I woke in tears and didn't want to be where I was in my sleep. Feeling my sweet little one beside me in our too large bed when I finally came back to this consciousness was a sort of sweet relief.
Today is Nathalie's last day of school. And then she is a big 1st grader.
We have big plans for the afternoon...of the celebration sort...we made it through...
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| Isn't that just the sweetest...? |
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| more sweetness.... |
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| My big girl. |
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| and my little one too. |
Sunday, June 12, 2011
brothers and cousins
My nephew, Otis, is quite the six year old. He is so like my own six year old it astounds me and watching the two kids play this past week was just the best. My oldest brother was visiting from Arizona for the past week, and I am really very sad that they are leaving today. It was so wonderful to spend time with him again- it's been so many years I can barely count. My brothers and I have histories of driving through the deserts together, eating peanut butter sandwiches in grocery store parking lots. Eating chocolate cake with mountains of ice cream, walking up craters and over beaches. Driving. Driving. Driving. Suburban Illinois neighbourhoods and corn fields, mosquitoes in the Maine woods and mud flats.
Watching our children play reminds me so much of us as children. They have this crazy joy for each other and the only moment in the entire world is that one. They were born a month apart from each other, on opposite sides of the country. We've been able to get together a handful of times since they have been here on earth, but this last visit was so vividly wonderful- because they are out of the baby stage and will remember it and the time they spent together chasing each other on the beach, eating ice cream, laughing, getting in trouble at the pizza place. Cuddling with their baby cousins (and sister!).
Just the best. Yeah. Thanks for coming, Jed, I do love you and your wonderful little family. (And so great to meet your lovely Katherine!) Can't wait to see you again.
Watching our children play reminds me so much of us as children. They have this crazy joy for each other and the only moment in the entire world is that one. They were born a month apart from each other, on opposite sides of the country. We've been able to get together a handful of times since they have been here on earth, but this last visit was so vividly wonderful- because they are out of the baby stage and will remember it and the time they spent together chasing each other on the beach, eating ice cream, laughing, getting in trouble at the pizza place. Cuddling with their baby cousins (and sister!).
Just the best. Yeah. Thanks for coming, Jed, I do love you and your wonderful little family. (And so great to meet your lovely Katherine!) Can't wait to see you again.
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| chilly swims at Reid State Park... |
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| all the cousins with Grandpa |
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| Grandpa's birthday cake and ice cream! |
Friday, June 10, 2011
After the storm
It rained all night.
I laid in bed and listened to the rain pounding down on the wooden porch outside our bedroom window. We left the windows open last night to let the air in- after such a sticky day the cool air of evening felt so good.
The baby was slimey with sweat by the time we went to bed. I turned on the fans and fell asleep in a chair with Stella nursing and a book in my hand. When I woke up this morning (in my bed, I moved in there somewhere...) I couldn't fall back to sleep with the knowing I had two giant batches of cookies to bake for the store and my dad's birthday cake to make.
The girls slept with the sweet thickness that children do. My sweetheart snored gently beside me. I lay in bed this morning and listened to my family sleep after the rain stopped. So grateful for them this day. Every day.
I laid in bed and listened to the rain pounding down on the wooden porch outside our bedroom window. We left the windows open last night to let the air in- after such a sticky day the cool air of evening felt so good.
The baby was slimey with sweat by the time we went to bed. I turned on the fans and fell asleep in a chair with Stella nursing and a book in my hand. When I woke up this morning (in my bed, I moved in there somewhere...) I couldn't fall back to sleep with the knowing I had two giant batches of cookies to bake for the store and my dad's birthday cake to make.
The girls slept with the sweet thickness that children do. My sweetheart snored gently beside me. I lay in bed this morning and listened to my family sleep after the rain stopped. So grateful for them this day. Every day.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
a birthday visit
This past Sunday was Jim Loney's 54th birthday, so Stella and I went down to visit him bright and early in the morning. We had a lovely time sitting in the kitchen at the house in Friendship, eating strawberries and wonderful cheese Kat had made.
It was so lovely to be there...and to think about all the years I've known Jim. I love so much that he is a grandfather to my girls- both he and Kat are a wonderful and beautiful gift to our lives.
Kat took these photos while we were there...
It was so lovely to be there...and to think about all the years I've known Jim. I love so much that he is a grandfather to my girls- both he and Kat are a wonderful and beautiful gift to our lives.
Kat took these photos while we were there...
Monday, June 6, 2011
Knitting needles
When I was five years old, my mother taught me how to knit. I think that is my favourite story ever, and although it's a one liner, it's true. In the years that have passed since then, however, my knitting skills are not much improved. I know women who are incredible, fantastic, amazing knitters. They take on these projects and days later shine out with these remarkable results. They pay attentinon to detail and follow instructions. Their stitches are tight and the whole thing just looks incredible. Amazing.
But. Well. I am guilty of the severe multi-task. I knit and do about ten other things. I don't follow the directions as close as I can. And when I make a mistake, only recently have I begun to tear the whole thing out and try again. Somehow, I am simply not as good a knitter as I would like to be after 25 years knitting. It's kind of like sewing. I've done it all my life, but like so many things I have done that long, I do it, but not exactly well.
So there.
And I finally picked up my needles again the other day to knit, but realized I couldn't get so much as a row done before a little somebody required both my hands and all my attention. That is how it is lately. She has been wanting not only to be held by me, but every single ounce of attention that I have. Unless we are in a public space and there are million things to hold a five month old's eye, she wants mine. Which, mind you, I am not complaining of, simply observing. I will lie her down on a sheepskin on the porch while I hang laundry, or other such mundane task, but she wants my eyes on her the whole time, my smile on her, every move has to be in the direction of her. She observes me with her soft smiling eyes and with such a serious look on her face. Like she is learning the ways of the world...and she in fact is.
This is amazing to me.
And then I remember Nathalie as a baby. She didn't care if she was in my arms, as long as I was somewhere near by. She would watch the world go by and just check to make sure I was paying attention every so often. These girls are as different as night and day. When Nathalie was a baby I knit, I wrote, I read books. It seemed like the free time with empty hands was never ending. I cooked elaborate things, I baked like crazy. (One day, in fact, I figured out how to turn our apartment oven into the kind of environment to bake naan. It was so so much fun...)(and kind of complicated...) In any case, that is not this baby.
Her most recent turn of events, much to my dismay, is that she will not allow me to read while I nurse her anymore. She turns and grabs the library book from my hands and folds the pages (if not flinging the whole thing to the floor!). Sigh. It's true!
So, I suppose staring into space is my only option.
That and dreaming up my new kitchen.
(Which, yes, T, I do that.)
So if any of you wonderful ladies out there know how to knit one handed, I'm all ears.
(those girls making eyes at each other...)
But. Well. I am guilty of the severe multi-task. I knit and do about ten other things. I don't follow the directions as close as I can. And when I make a mistake, only recently have I begun to tear the whole thing out and try again. Somehow, I am simply not as good a knitter as I would like to be after 25 years knitting. It's kind of like sewing. I've done it all my life, but like so many things I have done that long, I do it, but not exactly well.
So there.
And I finally picked up my needles again the other day to knit, but realized I couldn't get so much as a row done before a little somebody required both my hands and all my attention. That is how it is lately. She has been wanting not only to be held by me, but every single ounce of attention that I have. Unless we are in a public space and there are million things to hold a five month old's eye, she wants mine. Which, mind you, I am not complaining of, simply observing. I will lie her down on a sheepskin on the porch while I hang laundry, or other such mundane task, but she wants my eyes on her the whole time, my smile on her, every move has to be in the direction of her. She observes me with her soft smiling eyes and with such a serious look on her face. Like she is learning the ways of the world...and she in fact is.
This is amazing to me.
And then I remember Nathalie as a baby. She didn't care if she was in my arms, as long as I was somewhere near by. She would watch the world go by and just check to make sure I was paying attention every so often. These girls are as different as night and day. When Nathalie was a baby I knit, I wrote, I read books. It seemed like the free time with empty hands was never ending. I cooked elaborate things, I baked like crazy. (One day, in fact, I figured out how to turn our apartment oven into the kind of environment to bake naan. It was so so much fun...)(and kind of complicated...) In any case, that is not this baby.
Her most recent turn of events, much to my dismay, is that she will not allow me to read while I nurse her anymore. She turns and grabs the library book from my hands and folds the pages (if not flinging the whole thing to the floor!). Sigh. It's true!
So, I suppose staring into space is my only option.
That and dreaming up my new kitchen.
(Which, yes, T, I do that.)
So if any of you wonderful ladies out there know how to knit one handed, I'm all ears.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
our girls
I'm so devastated.
Travis came home last night and told us every single one of our beautiful hens was eaten. Not just eaten, but had it's head taken off and body left on the ground. He said he arrived to let the girls in and saw a huge fox running behind a burn pile, chasing one of the hens. With the hope that the other girls were safe in the pen, he went there and found it empty. Out side the door, he started to look around, and there they were. Everywhere.
The truth of it hasn't really sunk in , and won't until I get there and see the empty chicken coop. I am terrified to tell Nathalie, although I am sure she understands that this is life. Things come and go. She gets it with meat consumption- I think. She's met several of the animals that have found their ways into our freezer, and then, gradually our plates. We've talked about it as the cycle of life, farming, and true honoring of a living thing.
But this is different.
I feigned tough-girl-ness when I told my friend Erin that we were going to probably eat these girls after the summer. Travis and I both were practically in tears while we talked about our poor little friends last night. That's just it, you know? We talked about how the second you walked down into the yard they just wanted to stand near you. I'm certain that is how they discovered I was trying to plant seeds in the garden space. (Like "HEY..What is that? It looks delicious?!) We talked about how they would snuggle up to Nathalie and let her stroke them like a cat.
Sigh. These were my getting over the fear of poultry birds. And Nathalie's first animals, besides cats.
I don't know what to say. I guess nothing teaches us more about life then death. Or birth.
We'll sure miss those girls.
Travis came home last night and told us every single one of our beautiful hens was eaten. Not just eaten, but had it's head taken off and body left on the ground. He said he arrived to let the girls in and saw a huge fox running behind a burn pile, chasing one of the hens. With the hope that the other girls were safe in the pen, he went there and found it empty. Out side the door, he started to look around, and there they were. Everywhere.
The truth of it hasn't really sunk in , and won't until I get there and see the empty chicken coop. I am terrified to tell Nathalie, although I am sure she understands that this is life. Things come and go. She gets it with meat consumption- I think. She's met several of the animals that have found their ways into our freezer, and then, gradually our plates. We've talked about it as the cycle of life, farming, and true honoring of a living thing.
But this is different.
I feigned tough-girl-ness when I told my friend Erin that we were going to probably eat these girls after the summer. Travis and I both were practically in tears while we talked about our poor little friends last night. That's just it, you know? We talked about how the second you walked down into the yard they just wanted to stand near you. I'm certain that is how they discovered I was trying to plant seeds in the garden space. (Like "HEY..What is that? It looks delicious?!) We talked about how they would snuggle up to Nathalie and let her stroke them like a cat.
Sigh. These were my getting over the fear of poultry birds. And Nathalie's first animals, besides cats.
I don't know what to say. I guess nothing teaches us more about life then death. Or birth.
We'll sure miss those girls.
Friday, June 3, 2011
grown up teeth!
Well... my big girl lost her 4th tooth on Tuesday morning.
We were on the way to school and it just popped out! She was so thrilled....mostly because now she and her buddy Maggie are teeth twins. (Meaning they both are missing the same tooth!
I think that other one is close behind because it leans all to one side... Making me gasp with utter disgust...!
Loose teeth are so incredibly creepy! It is really fun to have the tooth fairy visit so frequently though. Having so much magic in our midst is really wonderful. And Nathalie is so proud.
I can't wait to watch her try and eat an apple with no teeth.
The little one is growing by leaps and bounds daily too. She now grabs at everything- including the cooking pots and everybody's nose. She LOVES her big sister best of all, and grins whenever she is near. Or looks at her like this...which totally cracks me up.
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