We didn’t do Earth Day this year. Not really.

Yes, we read The Lorax and another eco-conscious book from the library, but that’s not really out of the ordinary. We made sure to schedule in a trip to a local e-waste recycling event, but we had stuff to discard that couldn’t be put in the landfill, and we would have done that even if the event wasn’t held in conjunction with Earth Day. We combined that trip with a run to the grocery store and remembered our reusable bags, but living in the country has already made us more conscious of our gas usage, and I always take my bags.

The point is that we try to do Earth Day every day. Which is really the overarching point. “Make every day Earth Day.”

I say try because we are human, and we don’t always succeed, but we keep trying. We make small changes, all the time, and those small changes compound to effect big change on the part of our family. I believe that everyone can do something more, that there is always room for taking that next step.

I’ve written about the things that we throw away, and assessing your own garbage is a great place to start. Sending less to the landfill overall is important, and it’s also important to be aware of the kinds of things you do or do not throw away. We’ve had a small pile of busted electronics growing in our laundry room for quite a while. J’s propensity for acquisition extends to useful tech (he’s super skilled at troubleshooting and repairing), and while it’s really nice to have my own IT guy around, it does mean that we have to be aware of the electronic discards: the worthless laptop battery and power cord, the unreliable external hard drive, etc. This stuff not only resists decomposition, it can also leach nastiness into the ground. It’s our responsibility to be cognizant of these issues, and take appropriate action.

I personally feel that our responsibility extends to an awareness of the community around us, and what we can do to help. On one of our visits to the nearby spring, we saw that someone had dumped an old television down the hill and into the woods. We didn’t dump it, and it was heavy and dirty, but we hauled it out and took it with our own pile of junk to the recycling event. As the Once-ler says, “unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It’s not.”

Our family has also been making a bigger effort to consume less plastic. I haven’t gotten to shopping in bulk just yet, but three very intentional changes to the way we operate have already made a big difference.

1. I don’t use plastic in the produce section. I have three washable, reusable mesh bags, and one cotton bag, all with drawstrings that I use to bag loose fruits and veggies at the store. They’re lightweight enough to not add to the cost of my food, and super strong, and you would not believe the number of conversations they have started with cashiers and other shoppers. I toss them into my tote of regular shopping bags so that I always have them. As a result, I’ve eliminated those filmy plastic bags, as well as the cheap twisty-ties provided by the store.

2. I buy our spices in glass jars. This is a relatively new development for me. When we lived in Baltimore, the price of spices was crazy high, and the need to cut costs outweighed my eco goals. It was so exciting to arrive here and see that in many cases, the spices in glass were less expensive than the ones in plastic, even the organics. Next time you need to restock, check the price by volume. If it’s comparable, or just a few cents more, this might be a simple change you can make. I’ve got a couple of different brands in my cabinet right now, though you can see I’m still phasing out the plastics.

3. We no longer use liquid hand soap. Well, we still have a pump and a big refill bottle in the girls’ bathroom because at 2 and 4, tidiness and ease of use for my kids are the deciding factors. However, we use bar soap and hand towels everywhere else. It’s just as effective, and creates so much less waste. It also gives me the opportunity to support small businesses. I’m having fun trying different kinds, but my favorite bar soaps are made by my dad’s Cousin Janis and her son Brian, and sold in their Country Cottage Etsy shop. In fact, I need to re-order. I love the Gardener’s Soap, a clean smelling exfoliating bar that helps get the dirt off. .A close second is the Patchouli, because…patchouli!

**And, to help you get started, Brian has offered a 20% discount on their soaps by using the code COUNTRY20 at checkout. Tell him I sent you!**

What small steps have you taken to make a change? I’d love to hear what has or hasn’t worked for your family!

 

I have six chickens in my bathtub.

Pinky and Cinderella are Red Comets, and were named by Beanie and Swee. The other four are yet unnamed: two Silver-Laced Wyandottes and two Black Australorps. Swee has asked J and I, and Gramma and Grampa-rampa if we “have any names in mind,” and is set on boosting Cinderella’s self-esteem as only an almost-four-year-old can (“Good girl, Cinderella! Good girl!”). I’ve read time and again that you shouldn’t name your birds if you have any plans of dispatching them to the soup pot upon retirement, so I suppose that decision has now been made.

April has been a bit of a difficult month for us. We’ve experienced more than one setback, each of a different sort, but together bringing us to the same result: we will be renting longer than we had hoped. And so in a desperate move to avoid that feeling of being stuck and helpless and lacking forward momentum, we texted our landlord to see if he minded a few chickens in the yard. The response came swiftly:

“No problem.”

We struck out at Tractor Supply yesterday, despite them having dozens of peeping chickies just two days prior, so scoured Craigs List last night in search of someone local. J hit the jackpot when he found a guy not far from Swee’s nursery school who hatches several breeds in his garage. I’m far happier having supported someone in the community, and feel good about the little birds having been cared for in a clean, healthy, and low-stress environment before coming home with us.

We did things slightly backwards, and got the little critters home and into the tub before having a completed coop. Granted they’re too small to be in the yard just yet (it SNOWED most of the day today), so I suppose it’s not such a big deal. We do have the coop started though, and I’m excited to share it with you when it’s done. It’s certain to be an original!

My husband tends to acquire things. This habit of his often comes in handy, as he’s drawn to useful items. Yesterday he went on a mission and came back with enough of those useful items to create a chicken coop using only salvaged materials. We sketched out a rough plan based on some Pinterest ideas, and I think we will only have to purchase a few things to enclose the run.

Until then, I’ll be researching chickens a little more in depth than the light reading I’ve previously engaged in, and coaxing Beanie to be “so gentle” as she pets Pinky and Cinderella, teetering over the edge of the bathtub.

 

I’ve been dabbling in the use of essential oils since last summer, though timidly. I diffuse almost constantly, enjoying the aromatherapy benefits and the way it changes my mood and balance, but I hadn’t gone much past that. I was nervous. These things are potent, and I didn’t feel that I had the time to devote to intense research on how to safely use them in other ways. And then two things changed.

My oily mentor sent me an amazing packet of information on the oils I already have. I’ve read it through several times – everything I needed was in one place. It was like a primer for my starter kit, and I really wish I’d had it from the beginning.

And then I attended an incredible class at the Silo. Several of the wonderful people I’ve met here are really well versed in the world of oils already. They held a make and take class last weekend: discussion and an intro to oils, wine and cheese, and the chance to make two products with essential oils to take home for personal use. We learned to make a room and body spray with Lavender and Geranium, and a sugar scrub, for which I chose Rosemary and Peppermint.

Self-guided instruction is wonderful in many ways, but I still prefer, and learn best in-person. I like to hear the questions and comments from others, particularly when their perspective is different from my own. And I find the nuance of facial expressions and intonation of the instructor to be amazingly helpful to my own learning process. I came away feeling relaxed, and also confident that I can experiment and learn how to make these oils into tools for myself and my family! I guess I just needed some in-person encouragement.

My girls are loving the spray as perfume, and ask to use it in the mornings. The scrub is invigorating, and was so, so simple to put together. Best of all, I’m excited to learn more, and maybe help others cross that hurdle as well.

Do you already use oils in your home? Why or why not? Would you like to learn along with me? I’d love your comments and input!

The weather is going to be beautiful this weekend, and into next week. I did our meal planning and grocery shopping early this morning, and filled our menu and our cart with produce and dinners on the grill. In fact, I think fully a third of our grocery budget is spent in the produce section anymore. I’m going to be running the numbers on a new CSA option in our area to see where I can make cuts and squeeze it in because 1. I’d love to support the local economy even more, and 2. I can’t grow/produce everything we eat.

I’ve been thinking a lot about FOOD: what we eat, how and when we eat, where I source our meals, and even our neighbors who don’t have enough to eat. My selections for you this week seem to reflect that line of thinking…

So much interesting stuff out there, my friends. Enjoy, but don’t forget to go out and play in the dirt too!

– A food forest, feeding the community for FREE! Amazing.

– Edible teepee playhouse: so simple to DIY!

– Dinner in a box: the NYT looks at cooking with meal kits

– Check your food privilege: let’s all be a little kinder to each other.

– How millennials faked the food movement

I was invited to a very exclusive picnic yesterday. We gathered all of the bears in the house (and one German dollie) for a carefully orchestrated mid-morning snack of fruit, veggies and tea. It was delightful, and we had a most gracious hostess.

Among the books that survived my childhood is a copy of The Teddy Bears’ Picnic. It’s become a favorite here lately, and this version has the most wonderful illustrations. My vintage edition has a pocket in the back for a record that was misplaced somewhere along the way, but thanks to YouTube, we’ve been listening to Bing croon the classic tune as we brush our teeth for bed.

For the most part, I was very gentle with my books as a child, and still have many of them to share with my girls the way my mother and grandmother shared favorites with me: Nancy Drew and Helen Keller, Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm and Elnora of the Limberlost.  I’ve enjoyed revisiting the stories that helped guide my own adventure, and am looking forward to introducing Swee and Beans to Laura Ingalls and Anne Shirley as they get older.

Do you have a favorite book or story you’ve saved? 

 

When we first began sharing the idea of moving to Maine, and specifically to this little town, my parents discovered that they already had connections here as well. The best man in their wedding had moved up here with his entire extended family and made a life in little Mount Vernon twenty-some years ago, maybe more. He has since passed, but the family is still here, including his sister and brother-in-law that my dad also knew in high school (insert comment here about it being a small, small world…).

Those hometown friends run a sheep farm, and this weekend, they held their very first Open Farm Day. We had such a good time meeting the mamas and babies, petting and snuggling them. They were so gentle and personable, leaning in to sniff the kids and nibbling on anything and everything including J’s boots. Our girls giggled and laughed, and we all enjoyed the chance to be outside in the fresh air, connecting with friends – new friends in our case, and old friends for my parents.

I am cautiously optimistic. The pediatrician found no sign of a secondary infection and declared that poor Beanie just has a wicked cold. And as these things go, the day after the doctor visit, we saw marked improvement. Swee unfortunately wound up with a fever yesterday, forcing us to skip a birthday party we were all looking forward to. She seems right as rain today, naturally, and everyone’s appetites are beginning to return!

Some signs of spring this weekend, and though it was still chilly, we didn’t see any of the snow our family and friends experienced in Pennsylvania. I got some seeds in the ground, even: peas, spinach, swiss chard. Handsome Fixer Man installed a clothesline and tonight we will sleep in fresh, line-dried sheets. The forecast finally predicts several days in the 60s! Cautiously optimistic.

Wishing you all an easy start to your week.

I thought we kicked the sickness. I was so hopeful. Swee’s fever was gone, and so was her congestion. J felt normal. Beanie was her usual happy self. Until she woke up today. Our littlest one spent the entire day in someone’s arms, drifting in and out of sleep. It was difficult for us all – for Beanie, of course, but also for J and I to watch her and worry, and for Swee to alternate between attentive sister and noise-making preschooler.

After today, I’m tired. I’m tired of being hopeful, and perhaps that’s the lesson here: to just. slow. down. Everything will run its course, sickness included. Because of course these spring colds aren’t the only things keeping us down and there’s always something else to work through, some setback forcing you to dust yourself off and reevaluate. Adulting is hard.

So I have houseplants. And tea. And oils. And an early bedtime. We will focus on the simple things until the complicated ones work themselves out.

 

I sat at the kitchen table tonight and wrote a letter to a friend. I suppose you could call her an old friend now, because we were both much younger when we really became friends, before houses and kids and responsibilities much beyond taking the dog out before going to bed. We were young twenties then, everyone coming together over six packs and cards, and slowly, we all moved away and now no one lives close enough to just drop in or make plans for the same evening. We’re close in a different way now, as young-ish mamas and old-ish friends, sharing and commiserating sporadically but earnestly.

As I sat and thought about what I wanted to tell her that hadn’t made it into a text message, I could hear the spring peepers from the bog down the street. They’re loud tonight, even through the closed windows. The last time we visited our friends in the springtime, I was pregnant with Beans. We took the bigger girls out to see the tadpoles in a marshy area not far from their house, and slopped around in the muck. Beanie joined us almost a month later. I think she will enjoy learning about tadpoles this spring.

“There is this to be said for writing a letter instead of having lunch downtown: when you are writing a letter, you are thinking only of the person who is going to receive it. Nothing else is bidding for a share of your attention – neither the funny hat on the woman at the next table, nor the quality of the service, nor the nagging worry as to whether that odd sensation around the calf of your leg a moment ago was or was not a run starting in your new stockings. In short, there is no static.”

– Louise Dickinson Rich, We Took to the Woods

Writing a letter, a real letter, provides such a break for me: the act of sitting down away from the electronics of my day job and away from the beautiful distractions of my life. I enjoy everything about it, from selecting the paper and pen, to concentrating on my handwriting and the words I’m sharing, even to choosing the pretty stamps at the post office. My friend Emily wrote to me once that she stalks the mail carrier, hoping for a letter, and I had to laugh because I do the same. Writing to someone means you have the chance of getting a letter in return, and in reading it, knowing that for that moment, your friend was thinking only of you.

Now the rain is thumping hard on the skylight in the bathroom, drowning out the peepers, and the dog is chasing bunnies in his sleep, whimpering and snuffling on his blanket. My little ones are also asleep. We are coming off of several weeks of serious spring colds around here, hearing them cough in their beds after dark. They’re quiet tonight, thankfully; all I can hear is the rain and my own jumbled thoughts at the end of a long, long week.