Spring in all its glory and growth and grief and green.
It continues to amaze me how every year and every season manifests in such a new and exciting way when experiencing them with a growing child. I’m very much loving the six year old version.
Being a nature scientist, complete with field guides, observation tools, nature journals, and lots and lots of non fiction reading have been part of life since last fall. To see all of it combined with the unfurling of spring? Magic!
We paused soccer to notice hundreds of butterflies enjoying the nectar of a blooming tree in our yard. “Red Admiral!” …We knew the butterfly name because of a board game we’ve been playing ✨
Bored without anyone’s attention, L set off around the yard with a walking stick as I did dishes. Five minutes later he came rushing in, thumped around in his bedroom, and came down saying, “I saw this!” He pressed a button in his “Backyard Birds” book, and played the melodiduous song of a Song Sparrow. ✨
And of course, it’s borderlands work for me before the garden takes all my attention. I’m covered in scratches, sun kissed skin, and bits of poison ivy as I race to pull various invasive species before they flower and go to seed. I decided to choose fight, not flight with a huge patch of garlic mustard.
I brought her to the vet in the morning because she’d lost weight and didn’t seem to want to move around or eat much this weekend. She tested positive for feline leukemia and had such low iron that she would’ve needed a blood transfusion to make it more than a few days. Apparently there is still a chance of getting feline leukemia if vaccinated or of having it as a baby and having the blood test come back negative.
L and Thyme were attached at the hip. Thyme was quirky in the most child-friendly sort of way. She followed kids around like they were the Pied Piper and rarely protested the rough love she received fairly frequently.
Thyme came to L when he called her. Thyme sought L out when she heard him crying. Thyme loved to curl up next to L in his bed at night.
Thyme loved to follow us and be near us wherever we were outside. When living at the base of Mount Philo, she would go on miles-long walks with us in the forest, coming closer whenever we called and trotting along side us right back to our doorstep. I’ve never had a cat that comes so consistently when I called.
Today was surreal and sad, but also grounded and full of processing. I appreciated how much more manageable it felt to process the loss of a loved pet, compared to a loved parent.
I texted L’s teacher so I knew I could use the empty classroom at pick up time to break the news and understand how he wanted to proceed in a quiet private place. Evan wrote a heartfelt piece they shared with us. All three of us cried. L held Thyme, purring in his arms, for about 15 minutes before the vet came in. Thyme got her shot after settling down on the sheepskin she loved so dearly. We took her home in a box and L visited her and petted her throughout the evening. We put her in the freezer before bedtime.
Bizarre and very real. A tangible understandable and fairly pain-free death process that we chose to witness and participate in…something that is not often a choice with sudden loss and unanticipated grief.
What a difference a year makes. Last year at this time I was homeless and solo parenting – in a very cozy and supported type of a way in the guest room of dear friends. Tonight I’m reading by the fire in my childhood home on one of the two nights a week I “have off” from parenting. Our family is finding its new rhythm and a great deal of mutual effort has gone into finding that rhythm in a way that best meets everyone’s needs.
I haven’t shared many details as the events of late 2022 and 2023 unfolded. It was often too raw and unclear. And now, I’m ready to have my village caught up to speed.
Here’s what I wrote for the annual postcard I will send out soon to family and friends:
2023 brought yet more seismic shifts to my life path with a move back to Lewis Creek Road and decision to get divorced. It was a heartbreaking choice that has led to a daily life that feels balanced and much more full of ease and abundance amidst the grief of loss and the heavy loads I still carry. Both, and. Gardening, caring for my childhood home, and the very full and love-filled role of being L’s parent brought me great joy. My cup feels full in creating a home that is also a special space for forging deep connections, for play, for nourishment, for hard work, and for rest.
I look forward to the unfolding of coming year with so much excitement. I can’t wait to see what happens when I’m operating from a place of grounded ease and feelings of confidence, connection, gratitude and abundance.
(Posted a few days after it was written because posting requires uninterrupted computer time.)
We’ve had two school days in the last nine days. And a snow day is very possible for tomorrow. There has been a lot of magic with unexpected home time. It has delivered more space and time to cherish this often overwhelming season that is so full of beautiful traditions and rituals.
We’ve been asking and answering one “big question” each night of Hanukkah. Tonight L thought of the question: “What brings you peace?”
L said “This property,” just as I was about to say, “Our home.”
It is a truely magical place that brings me so much peace and comfort. I love knowing that L shares in this sentiment, especially after so many major family transitions last year.
And gosh, it is exhausting to be one-on-one with a kid for this many cumulative hours. I really really need some alone time!!!!!
I have so many strands of thoughts intersecting with ongoing news coming out of the Middle East. I feel a strong heart connection to the region, and I have also committed to consuming less news and focusing my active citizen energy locally. Within this context, I feel ill informed to proclaim things on social media. I’ve also had a growing personal desire to take action in some way.
My mom’s family lived in Beirut while my grandfather helped start a geography department at the American University of Beirut. My grandmother, mom and I returned to the city to participate in a rebuilding celebration at AUB when I was in sixth grade. While we were there, Israel bombed power stations and bridges near Beirut. The bombing was in retaliation for heavy rocket fire by Hezbollah guerrillas. Their actions were in response to violent actions taken by Israel. The violence has gone like this – back and forth and back and forth for so so so long. It’s deeply layered with many thousands of years of human history of intersecting religions, scarce natural resources, and generations of trauma.
Being in a city with buildings visibly marred by bullets and bombs and experiencing a bombing and subsequent power outages had a big impact on me. And I was just there temporarily as a tourist.
I am deeply grateful to be rooted in a home and community that is so distant from war. I am grateful to be raising a child in a generally peaceful and safe environment. I am also aware that I’m a citizen of a country with the power, money, and weapons to influence and enable conflicts around the world. And the power and resources to mediate cease-fires and peace agreements.
Now that I’m cooking for myself and a child only, I tend to prepare kid-centric meals. Tonight I made dinner with only myself in mind. I prepared recipes I’ve been craving but haven’t been making because they require more prep time than I tend to have. As I brought tabouleh, falafel, garlic tahini sauce, and pickles to the table, L proclaimed that we should have a candlelit dinner with no lights on at all. We got out extra candles. I told stories about Mimi living in Beirut as a kid and me and my mom and my grandmother visiting when I was in sixth grade.
I savored each bite. L took a bite of everything, polished off the pickles, enjoyed za’atar and sumac straight from the shakers, played around with tangy mini sandwiches of mint leaves and lemon, had a few bites of plain bulgur, and requested a new dinner of toast with mayonnaise 😂
Tomorrow I promise to call my representatives in Washington to demand a ceasefire…something I’ve been meaning to do but haven’t yet. (Vermonters: 202-225-4115 Balint, 202-224-5141 Sanders, 202-224-4242 Welch)
It seems pretty common for parents to take pictures and post to social media when they’ve thoughtfully and painstakingly planned out and executed a “Pinterest worthy” activity for their kids. Though they might make for good photos, my experience is that those parent-led activities rarely occupy as much time or interest as I expect. Plus they’re a lot of work to set up.
Instead, time flows around here and deep engagement happens when a spark of interest from L is extended or enabled with a little help from me or nudge in a certain promising direction. It feels especially magical when that spark happens when L has worked through boredom as I do physical work around the house, yard, garden, or kitchen. The idea is often related to the work or materials I’m using, but it goes in a creative, unique, or playful direction.
L started playing with some dried beans and nuts last winter as if they were little friends. I often found them in the pillowcases when doing a wash, in the cracks of the couch cushions, or between our sheets when I got into bed.
This spring, when deciding what to plant in the garden, L chose beans…. not for eating, but for playing with. With no human assistance, they created a jungle that consumed everything else in the garden bed. And a few days ago, when we went up to do some harvesting, we noticed some dry pods, ready to crack open.
The beans have now been shucked, lined up, sorted, re-sorted, and assigned personalities. Playing with them has occupied a significant amount of time and imagination. And look at them!! They’re gorgeous!
There were quite a few situations with my mom where I couldn’t tell if I was annoyed or amused. Maybe this is a universal situation for mother-daughter relationships?
One classic example was her philosophy around full moons. She exclaimed at and admired the full moon every month at least three or four days before it was full and three or four days after. Me, being more literal, couldn’t handle her calling it a full moon for at least a week. Especially given her great enthusiasm about how bright and huge and full it was.
It brought me joy that her birthday this year was marked by a super blue moon.
Last night’s two back to back downpours hit hard. The house systems did their best but ultimately the drainage system and sump pump couldn’t keep up. Nothing like this has ever happened while my family has owned this land. I’m feeling lucky to have made it through with so little damage.
The grounds were so saturated and so much rain came so quickly that a huge river of water poured through my property on its way from the forest to the river. I had four hay bales to divert the most intense part of the torrent from my garden, and really needed five to save the tomatoes and peppers, so I sat down and became the fifth hay bale. It was wild and meditative at the same time to literally feel my body blocking the water as it flowed to lower ground.
I’m struck by how tiny and insignificant I feel as a human in these big intense weather events. Yet human activity is influencing our climate and weather in major ways. In some ways, we are helpless, but in many ways, we are not. I personally believe that local action is where many of us can have the biggest impact. In nearly all places and spaces, business interests are winning over environmental values and smart, long-term planning. Local policies impact watershed health and the land’s abilities to “slow the flow” and be resilient. I really hope that all this water and smoke and fire and pollution right here in our spaces will motivate folks to take action. Imagine if everyone traded the amount of time they spend on social media for getting involved in local decision making, advocacy, long-term planning, or on the ground work.
After the rains passed and the biggest flow through the garden calmed. (Videos are on Facebook and Instagram – they would’t load properly here)On the left is where I sat embodying “the fifth hay bale.”
My life has had a very large number of transitions and life events that feel beyond my control recently. And so, taking more control over my yard and garden has been especially satisfying and energizing this spring.
As the spring unfurls, I’ve been taking great pleasure in bringing the yard and garden spaces back into order after they were minimally tended for the last few years. Though I would love to think that I could do it all by myself using no till methods, that is not true. Several garden areas had reverted fully back to field and the lawn was slowly shrinking as edges were reclaimed by nettles, goldenrod, and sumac.
There are many things with motors here, none of which I prefer have anything to do with. And yet, when one needs to turn field back into garden and push back the encroaching shrubbery from a lawn, tillers and weed whackers are incredibly useful tools. Much to my surprise, I was successful in getting the tiller and weed whacker started and keeping them going all the way through to the end of my projects. It is a bit flabbergasting and awe inspiring to see what can be done in an hour with the help of a machine. It’s a reminder that help can come in many forms. And one way is not always the best way in all circumstances.
I accomplished tasks in areas where I have very little experience or confidence – areas I’ve always had others take care of for me. I’m well on my way to reclaiming the edges and borderlands and feeling nearly ready for the big garden planting effort that comes, in this cold little pocket in Vermont, after Memorial Day. And it feels so good.
This is a truly beautiful place and I’m grateful to be settling in as the (dirty and sore) Queen of this little magical kingdom.
P.S. Yup, there are three large veggie gardens here!
P.P.S. Nope, I haven’t brought my controlling and organizing energy to the indoor spaces! Yet. As you might have noticed, there is EVERYTHING in that barn! Be in touch if you want fencing, tiki torches, or anything in between 😂
It was a joy to know that what I actually wanted for Mothers Day was simple, and then to have the wisdom to ask for it, and then to enjoy the sheer delight he took in preparing it.
My request: a bouquet of flowers from the garden
Today marked L’s first Philo summit on his own two feet.
We had a lovely day together.
A lesson in finding joy in what IS for this Mama, whose walking-with-my-young-child expectations were off by a lot. Also gratitude for what IS for this Mama will never be taken for granted, having come so close to losing him on the same day I lost both my parents. Life and love are the scariest and most amazing things, and I’ll choose life and love every time.
Growing Stories 