Morning Moments

I love light. I enjoy the interplay of light and shadows. I find reflections interesting. I am amazed by minutia. Close-up views of basic things awaken wonder in me... and reverence. Because of this, mornings on the way to the barn are a really great time for me to snap quick pictures of the simple things that inspire me. I figure, "Why not energize my day on my way to do a chore?" I have found that this deliberate search for beauty and inspiration is a sort of spiritual tonic for me. It's humbling, yet hope-filled.

Take this tulip poplar leaf for example. (Really this tree isn't a poplar at all. It's a kind of huge magnolia... but I digress.) Things like fallen leaves covered with raindrops and grass wet with dew are what I marvel at. I delight in the way every blade and vein-covered leaf holds droplets of water like glistening jewels, each of  the millions of gems magnifying its surroundings while refracting the light that passes through it, and reflecting the light that glances off of it.

Even daylily leaves can glisten and awe.

When I have a camera in hand, I instinctively look for something "worth" photographing. So sometimes what I photograph is not so much beautiful, as it is interesting.  Take this crawdad chimney, for example. I found this one morning in the barn, right next to the giant post that frames the large, sliding barn door! I think that's pretty impressive for a gilled crustacean that lives in water. And it's strange.

Or what about this grass? It's ordinary grass gone-to-seed. It was growing in a thin strip that the mower doesn't reach because the aforementioned sliding barn door usually rests here. Without my camera, this grass would be something to niggle me, because it is something that I haven't taken care of yet. With a camera in hand, and with the sun still low in the sky, it was instead, a striking line of bobbing seed heads casting sharp shadows on the barn siding.

Mornings are also good for photographing flowers. Buds are often opening or are newly-opened. This columbine blossom is the latest flower that I have documented, although there are some irises that have started blooming near the fire ring that I haven't yet been able to venture near.

It's a good time to see deer in the morning, too. Actually, let me rephrase that. I see deer off and on throughout the day, but they are more frisky and entertaining in the morning. That means that the odds for catching a good shot are better. In these pictures, the sun is low enough that much of the hay field is still shaded by the tree line. The pictures aren't that good, but they illustrate what I mean about the deer being more playful.

In the following pic., it's midday, and they are boringly browsing.

A morning walk with a camera in hand is simply precious as well. Tromping through the hay fields, around the lake, and back up the long lane is soothing. It's a rarity, but when indulged in, it never fails to disappoint.

How about this "morning moment" by the pond? We had started our walk before the sun reached the tree line. After we crossed the dam, it began glimmering through the tree tops. By the time we got to the far side of the pond, the light was filtering through and illuminating new leaves on an oak tree whose branches hung out over the water. This picture does not give an accurate idea of the luminous greenness either.  

What about the recently-risen sun
filtering through the newly leafing-out woods by the lake... 

or dappling the lengthy gravel lane that my husband and youngest son 

trudge up on the long hike back to our home...

or hovering over the tree line 

and irradiating one of the hay fields in an unearthly, glowing green...

It is lovely to record morning moments like these. So I try to remember to slip my little camera in my pocket on the way out the door. It has often rescued a moody morning, for capturing a quick pic. cheers me.

After all, as the greats like Bing Crosby, Aretha Franklin, The Andrews Sisters, Ella Fitsgerald, Perry Como, and Paul McCartney sang in that famous Johnny Mercer tune,

"You've got to accentuate the positive

Eliminate the negative

And latch on to the affirmative

Don't mess with Mister In-Between

You've got to spread joy up to the maximum

Bring gloom down to the minimum

Have faith or pandemonium's

Liable to walk upon the scene."

More Friday Zone

Welcome back to the zone.... the Friday Zone! A couple more shows have aired that my oldest two kids took part in. They were featured in the craft portions of each show. And my friend, Robin, was featured in the episode on color too! Bonus! You can check out her blog if you like her segment in the color episode. It's lovely. The other episode is about playing and parks. I really dig the playground equipment made from recycled materials. Check it out!

Losing Myself

reflections of a middle-aged, 

stay-at-home, 

home-educating, 

rurally located, 

mother of four 

(from toddler to teen)

I used to feel attractive, competent.  

I had free time, dreams; I could breathe.  

Now I face an unending onslaught of urgency and drudgery.  

My body is wilted, worn, and wasted.  

My mind is a churning, jumbled muddle.

For a time I would fret. 

I felt trapped, that I had nothing left. 

I felt used, abused.  

I had given so much for so long. 

I worried that I had lost myself, forgotten how to be, forgotten me. 

Then I looked at what I would have to do to have a better body, nice clothes. 

I explored what it would require to “take care of myself.” 

I saw what would happen if I regularly took “time for me.”  

I had to decide: would being slender, muscular, rested, or self-nurtured make me truly happy or help my family? 

Were beauty, respite, good health or longevity more important than my own children’s desires, best interests, and needs?

In the end, I am willing to pay the cost, and cannot face what would be lost. 

In trying to nurture me, in seeking health, I would be consumed in self. 

I would be empty in a different way. 

I would have the space, but lose the close fit, the tight knit. 

Now I understand, embrace, and rest assured in my choice.

Giving defines me. 

Loving consumes me. 

Emptying myself fills me. 

I have lost myself... willingly...

and gained a thriving family.

The Wanderings of a Mid-life Mind

The barn is shut up. The children are tucked in. They're fighting sleep as usual, but I've "laid down the law" for the last time. They are at least quiet for now. 

I have a second round of dishes waiting for me. There's schoolwork to correct, lessons to plan. I need to make a weekly meal plan and shopping list tonight (two sets of visitors this weekend.)  And although I did laundry all day, I still have a load to put away, two to fold, one in the washer, and one in the dryer. 

The hum from the dryer vent is sullying up the ambiance as I sit on the screen porch avoiding these, and the rest of the tasks that await me tonight. But I can afford to put them off a bit. My husband is just catching a flight about now in D.C., and won't be back until at least midnight. 

So here I sit. It's a little too cold to be out without a coat, but I'm too lazy to get one. Besides, the chill is helping me to shake my sleepy sluggishness. And I did bring my mug of unsweetened tea. 

A gentle rain is falling quietly, murmuring in the leaves, tapping on the gazebo. A mocking bird is brassily singing as the last light fades. The robins are chirping their lullabies. A frog is croaking at slow intervals, sounding like the creak of a reluctant door. 

From some neighboring pond, the geese intermittently interrupt these calming noises with their honks, their perpetually teenaged voices cracking. Now and then a horse nickers a complaint. A cow moans in agreement, and gradually the animal noises diminish into darkness until I am left with only the patter of water. 

For a short time, I can barely make out the tree line against the dark clouds. It's easier to see if I don't try to look directly at the dividing line between tree and sky. But then it is too dark even for that, and I sit in a pale bubble of laptop light, wrapped in chilly night. 

A car passes with a distant whoosh. A mouse squeaks somewhere nearby as it rustles in the leaves. And for the first time all day I slow and feel as though I can properly breathe.

It is a sort of distorted marathon, this life I lead. While many of my peers try to reclaim their youth, defy their aging bodies, and regain some regard by training for and running actual long-distance races and completing triathalons, I plod along, unable to catch my breath. I'm not sure how they find the time to do what they do. After all, I'm wasting ten minutes to collect and type my thoughts, and it feels like stealing. 

A part of me is jealous. It would be nice to "take care of myself" for a change. I'm sure there are those among my acquaintances who wonder why I don't. And that's okay. They can't know what I face.

Besides, I knew all the time where my choices would lead. And I keep heading the same direction despite that. There are moments when I'm not feeling so strong though. I watch my body show the toll of my commitment, and I momentarily falter. But so far I just swallow my pride and continue on. 

Well, with those deep thoughts, my ten minutes is up. My nose is cold, and my cup of tea is nearly gone. It's time to get back to the grind.

Easter Joy

Holy Saturday Easter Egg decorating- it's a serious business.

my 2 yr. old working on an egg

what it looked like

my 4 yr. old dyeing an egg

Resurrection Roll for Easter Breakfast

The Easter egg hunts began after Mass on Easter morning...
and after Easter baskets too, of course...
and Resurrection Rolls!

The older children hid eggs for the younger two.

It was very windy, and the pinwheels we gave the children in their Easter baskets were put to good use.

My oldest daughter helped to hide some eggs for her big brother.
I think she had as much fun watching the hunt as he did hunting. 

The Adjuga gave good cover to the eggs...

and pleased the butterflies.

I love the look of joy and excitement on this young lady's face. 

My youngest mostly did this when it wasn't his turn to hunt,
or when he wasn't snatching others' candy on the sly.

First Holy Communion

Holy week is usually a busy week. This year it was a whirlwind because at the last minute it was decided, due to an unexpected turn of events, that my oldest daughter should receive her First Holy Communion on Easter Sunday. Here's how it happened. When I contacted our parish priest in early November about making arrangements, he suggested that she receive individually sometime during the Easter season instead of with the religious ed. class, since she was prepared at home, but no date was set at that time. So I put off buying a traditional dress for her to wear at the sacrament, since she was growing so fast.

Not too long before Easter, I contacted Father to remind him that we needed to schedule a date for my dear daughter's big day. As it turns out he had just been diagnosed with prostate cancer.  What with his schedule being fairly tight before his surgery, and the upcoming surgery and lengthy recoup time, we decided to push up the date of her First Communion instead of putting it off for a long time. After all, she was ready. So on Tuesday of Holy Week, he suggested that she receive Our Lord alongside another little girl who is home educated.

The whirlwind of a week wasn't what I would have chosen, but it seems that God had different plans than mine... no surprise there! First of all, when we had tried to go to the Sacrament of Penance on the previous Saturday, there had been too many people, and the time for confessions ran out before we had our turns. So I needed to get my girl to Confession. We took her to Reconciliation on Tuesday night at the local retreat center run by Franciscan Friars. She was brave, despite the weirdness of their confessional setup, having never received the sacrament there before, and was even first in line.

Next we needed to decide what to do about a dress. I made a few stops Tuesday afternoon on the way to the retreat center in hopes of buying a simple, white dress but I couldn't find anything modest enough. It was all spaghetti straps. I contacted some folks that would be likely to have loaners. I scanned Craigslist. Nothing. So we picked out a dress online WEDNESDAY. Once we found a place that would ship quickly and accepted returns (no small feat) we looked at literally hundreds of dresses. She found only a few that had sleeves, and she quickly narrowed it down to her favorite. She also wanted a veil (although she thought gloves were ridiculous.) She was excited. It was supposed to arrive by Holy Saturday (expedited shipping- ouch!) but I was nervous that it wouldn't or that it wouldn't fit. 

I went a little overboard with the dress. I'm not usually like that. But because of the inability of family to come, the fact that we had previous plans for the afternoon with my in-laws (who are not Catholic) several hours away, and the last-minuteness (I would have preferred to help her make a final preparation with a retreat or novena or something), I wanted to make sure that her First Communion was a big deal in another way. Also, I knew that the other girl receiving would be wearing a traditional dress, so I didn't want my sweetie to feel anymore self-conscious than she necessarily would be. 

All week, between Easter preparations, school work, the Sacred Tridduum events of the Holy Thursday Mass of the Lord's Supper, the solemn commemoration of Jesus' passion and death on Good Friday, the outdoor Way of the Cross with the Friars, the Divine Mercy Chaplet, etc., my daughter read voraciously, reviewing pertinent books, re-reading biographies of the saints, etc. She was ready!

The gorgeous dress arrived promptly on the morning of Holy Saturday. We all admired it. She tried it on. It barely fit, but it lived up to her expectations. She was very happy.

Then we noticed that the veil was missing. After contacting the company that I ordered from, it was discovered that it was mistakenly left out of the shipment. So my sister (who was the only one able to come) headed out with us to track one down. We hit the bridal store, but they only had two choices that my little one was not overly fond of. Plus, they were pricey. We then hit a fabric store and a craft store. Finally she decided that she wanted me to make one, so we bought the necessary and desired materials (which included stick on rhinestones in various sizes!) and I made it late on Holy Saturday after my sister had carefully ironed the tulle. My daughter loved it. 

On Easter Sunday, during the 7:30AM Mass, my big girl received the Blessed Sacrament for the first time. She was radiant, confident, and ready. She followed along attentively with her missal, and she had written a prayer of thanksgiving to meditate on after Communion that she used. I didn't even have to take my two year old out during Mass! 

Easter was a very long and hectic day, and there was not as much focus on the sacrament as I would have liked, but I did make her a First Communion cake similar to the one I had made for my son when he received Our Lord for the first time, and some molded chocolates that looked like chalices and hosts. Plus, we fit in all the Easter festivities too!