The Simple Woman's Daybook 3 February 2014

 

Outside my window...there is a soft rain falling.  This rain seems like a blessing on the grass seed that Doug planted on Saturday.  We will see if the effort that he has put into sprucing up this place take hold.

 

I am thinking...about building.  It has been emotionally difficult to begin doing anything around here to affect a permanent change because the hand of my father can be seen everywhere.  It has only been since I have come to the conclusion that what we do has got to be considered building onto the foundation of what he began that I am able to begin planning for the next steps. 

 

I am thankful for...the constant hand of God in every day of our lives.  Sometimes I can feel him gently leading us and sometimes I feel him slapping me in the back of my head but I still know that his leading is in love.

 

From the kitchen....something is going to happen I just haven't been inspired yet.  There is laundry and grocery shopping to do first before any meals can be thought of.  First and foremost a bread dough has to be set since Doug informs me that he is about out.

 

I am wearing...cozy jammies.  It isn't cold out but the dampness compels me to snuggle up today.

 

I am going...to get a lot done today. (I'll let you know how that pans out later) I always have big plans on Monday morning until reality sets in. 

 

I am reading...Cranford by Elizabeth Gaskill while I am waiting for the new book I ordered to come.

 

I am hoping...that packages come in the mail soon.  I am waiting on a ruler that I need and some printed interfacing that I finally found and ordered on Saturday.  I got big plans and even bigger projects in the works.

 

I am hearing...the sounds of the red birds outside in the yard calling to each other.  I haven't identified all of the visitors to the feeders yet, some of them being new to my eye, but the red birds and the jays are old familiar friends.

 

Around the house...things are coming together nicely.  Doug has established his little corner of this world and I love to watch him there like the master on his throne.

 

One of my favorite things...listening to the water go over the wheel at the mill that we visited yesterday.

 

A few plans for the rest of the week...more of the same and a little of the extraordinary.  Thursday I am going to spend the day with my sister-in-law Sharon.  We will spend the day chatting, sewing and just plain being away from the cares that follow us the rest of the week.

 

Here is a picture thought that I am sharing with you...

We visited this mill yesterday and I can already tell that it is going to become a favorite for both Doug and I. 

There's ownership and then there is ownership.

When we left home to come down here it was a big step. It wasn't quite as large a step for me as it was for my husband.  The house that we left behind, all of the land that surrounded it, had been his home since he was five years old (he is now 61).  Every fiber of my husband's being was integrated into the land, the climate, and the surrounding countryside that he had know for all of his life.  This is my witness to the magnitude of the gift that he gave to me by giving it all up to come and help care for my mother.

 

Now here in the south everything is foreign to him. From the orientation of the land that we reside on to the accents of those who populate the area it is all like moving to another country but this week my man has begun to take ownership of our home.  No, I don't mean that the deed is being turned over to him in his name.  There are other ways of claiming ownership, ways that are more basic and fundamental.  Kinship with the land is one sure means of making a mark. 

 

This week Doug has cleared the brush behind the house making the hill accessible to us as a more useable part of the property.

He has trimmed trees and the shrubbery that have long stood neglected due to my father's illness and death.  All the leaves have been raked into a huge pile to be composted and turned into rich soil to grow vegetables for our table and he has plans to fence in the rest of the property so that we can have a dog in the near future for some much needed company.

 

Even the porch has gotten a thorough sweeping and there is a coat of sealer in its future. Doug's mark will be all around the property, hand in hand with my father's.  I think daddy would be pleased for the help that he is getting around here.

Reflections on snow days

     It snowed here in the south last week.  In anticipation of that event the schools and businesses were closed and people were sent home.  The governor even declared a state of emergency, advising motorists to stay off the roads unless travel was absolutely necessary.  Much joking went on, at least in my little corner of the world, about the extreme un-hardiness of southerners but it has set me thinking about the whole concept of snow days.
     The appeal of snow days seems to be the fact that they force people to slow down, take time off, and do something other than their normal daily activities.  Kids get to stay home from school, play games all day, maybe go sledding, spend the morning staying in bed, and otherwise not being in school.  Adults, when they are freed from the grind of the office get to over sleep without guilt, hangout online, and generally spend a day playing instead of earning their daily bread.  Snow days are special because they don't happen every day that is true (though if you ask southerners the consensus is that northerners have three a week in the wintertime.)  It is also true that they wouldn't stay special if one declared a day off every week but my question is, why wait for snow?  Why not schedule a snow day without the snow?
     When my kids were growing up they were homeschooled and the thought of not having a snow day in the winter was out of the realm of possibility for those who didn't homeschool their kids.  Little did they know.  We had snow days even when the public school kids were at their desks studying hard.  We had snow days in the summer if we so desired.  The secret ingredient was not the snow it was the switch from the norm and the everyday to the out of the ordinary and unusual.
     Even now, as I contemplate the school kids across the road trying to sled down a small hill barely covered in a light dusting of snow, my brother and his wife and children curled up by their fire sipping hot drinks and enjoying a rare interlude of family togetherness, I am inclined to take a day off from the ordinary and everyday.  Perhaps an old black and white movie would be just the thing.