Those Arms

I love this picture of myself.

Except my arms.

My beautiful girls and I had gone out to a lovely little pond behind our farm to take portraits for Jeff's birthday gift. The weather quickly, unexpectedly turned crabby. Thunder pounded over our heads and lightning flashed out of sync with the camera. We were just about to abandon the effort when RaeLani, camera in hand, shouted "Mom, stop right there....now...raise your arms, a bit more....Good! Got it!"

Later at home, I saw this picture and thought, "Oh, I love that picture of myself."

"Except my arms."

When I was a brash young woman, I watched my vibrant, active Grandma one day - she was so pretty. Except her arms. "Tsk, tsk," I thought, "she should do something about that."

My 45th birthday is coming up quick. I love my life. I finally love my strong, resilient, agile body. Except those arms. Sigh. I totally deserve those arms.

Happy Birthday to a Most Wonderful Friend!

Happy Birthday to You!

We live in a Zoo!

We wish we had a monkey,




'Cuz we'd send it to you!!

A Figment Cover to Share

Here's a book cover for you!

High Summer

Wow, it's been a long time since the last post. Without apology or excuses, I'll just jump right back in. It is finally Summer here in Wallowa County and finally hot, hot, hot. Jeff ran outside in a panic yesterday morning at 9:00 when the hoophouse was already up to 128 degrees inside. We have a low tech design with no fans, no automatic door openers, no levered windows. In fact, a lot of our farm operates on a pretty low-tech level. While getting started this way was less expensive and easier to replace or replicate, the everyday job of just living on our little farm is quite labor intensive.

I love it.

Sharon Astyk - Mom, Writer, and Fellow Visionary - captures my feelings for our hard working life in this blogpost: http://sharonastyk.com/2011/07/19/in-high-summer/

We live looking forward. We move on to the next season as the work we do now itself lays the groundwork for the fall, winter and spring crops that we will subsist upon. We are watching the boys grow big and strong in summer, envisioning the next year and the next as they mature. We live looking back, remembering as I pull this crop of bolted lettuce the cold, wet spring day I transplanted it. As each goat delivers, we recall the February day that I released does and bucks to their mutual delight, and always remember the summer farm childhood we all lived or dreamed of. We live in the moment, delighting in the full milk pail, the first harvest, the sweetness of berries, the warmth of the sun, the cold beer in the shade, the first time the boys use their pocketknives or climb to new heights. At high summer, more than at any other moment, past, present, future come together and simply are. The days are so long, they seem to be infinite. We know it is merely an illusion, but we revel in summer, stripped of limits, timeless and beautiful.