Our yoga studio is quickly becoming the gathering place in tiny Mount Vernon, coming into its own as a true workshop for all kinds of living. This past Saturday night, the Silo hosted a beautiful outdoor event, complete with Tumbledown beer tastings, the new El Toro taco truck, and the Fresh Ella’s ice cream bus (a local fave).

It was a nice little break from our crazy stretch of days, even if it wasn’t quite silent. Our girls ran around with a pack of kids, sharing fruit pops and getting filthy. It was a lot of fun to watch them interact the way that little ones do, holding hands and making friends. And the food? Oh my. That roasted pork burrito bowl was incredible. Fresh, locally sourced, and delicious.

One of those rare quiet moments… Thanks for catching it, Mariah!

 

Yesterday I was feeling frazzled, and wishing desperately for some silence. The level of input over the past week has risen to the point that one evening, I physically put my hands over my ears and put my head down on the table.

Our life right now is filled with the joyous noise of little people, and it truly is wonderful. I don’t wish it away. I am so grateful that they are happy little people, and I love the songs and silly noises and even the endless questions. Usually the constant nature of the noise is manageable, and had it just been actual noise, I think it would have been business as usual.

J got a new job, a good job. To further his goals of working in medicine when he finishes school, he’s joined the health system here in a position that not only offers advancement, but is second shift, four days a week. It’s the perfect complement to my position working from home and will match his course schedule really well. Our girls will still be home with a parent for the majority of their week, and maybe we can make a dent in our larger goal to be debt-free.

We didn’t anticipate that his training would be on day shift. Why, I don’t know, because thinking about it now, it makes sense. But for the past week he and I have both been on overdrive. Between learning a new system, working handyman jobs in the village, responding to a forest fire call (oh yeah, did I mention he joined the fire department?) and trying to complete the chicken coop, my hardworking hubby has been stretched thin. And in trying to support him (clean work clothes, packed lunch, picking up his half of the chores, listening!), stay on top of my own paid work, and be a patient mama and homemaker, I haven’t had a moment of true silence in many, many days. There are so many needs to fulfill.

Silence. No noise, nothing going into my brain, zero input is what I’ve been craving.

Tonight is his first real night at work. My girls didn’t nap today, so they went to bed at 6:30pm and I went and scrubbed the sorely neglected toilet. It took me a few minutes of wandering aimlessly afterward, but I finally cracked open the last beer in the fridge and just stopped. I’m sitting in the kitchen, looking out at an almost finished chicken palace, listening to the peepers in the bog and the washing machine rolling around and around and around.

 

We’ve had visitors recently, of the brightly feathered variety. About a week ago, we were joined by a rose-breasted grosbeak. He helped himself to a leisurely lunch at our feeder, and has returned daily. He prefers a private table it seems, and shoos away any other birds that arrive while he’s indulging. He brought a friend today, and I stood at the window watching the two of them pick through the seed, bright red hearts glowing. I’d never seen one before, my only knowledge of them coming from A Girl of the Limberlost, though I couldn’t have asked for a more accurate description and knew at once who he was, even without referring to my friend Sibley.

Now that gorgeous cobalt fellow above, he was a different story. I had no idea what he might be without asking my dad, and then looking him up to confirm. He is one of a trio that has taken up residence in our backyard, swooping around with a flock of goldfinches like so many tropical fish. They’re indigo buntings, and they’re just beautiful. I’ve never seen a wild bird so vibrant.

Our chickens, on the other hand. They’re entering the awkward tween phase, I think. They’re not very attractive right now, all spikey feathers and long necks. They’re gangly. We think that a pecking order is already being established, and my girl Dottie seems to be on top. She’s the biggest of the bunch, with Buttercup close behind her. They turned three weeks old yesterday, and from everything we’ve read, will be ready to move outside somewhere around four or five weeks old. We’re ready to have them out of the bathtub. Our Schnauzer Stubby has taken personal offense to having them in the house; he goes a little bonkers when they make a ruckus, and upon introduction, attempted to decapitate sweet Cinderella. So! We will all be happy when they’re out and in their own space.

And what a space it’s shaping up to be! J is crafting a definite chicken palace, complete with barn board siding and salvaged windows. You should have seen us trying to get it into place (because of course he didn’t start building it in its final location), backing the truck down into the yard with me crouched in the bed, holding it in place by the rafters. We’re planning to do a little video tour once it’s complete.

I’m excited to move them into their home, to get them settled, and eventually enjoy their contribution to our little homestead. In the meantime, I’ll gratefully accept gifts of eggs from our neighbor’s girls, left for us on the porch in a coffee can.

One year ago today, we crossed the state line and took a selfie. “Welcome to Maine. The way life should be.”  It’s not perfect, but it’s pretty damn close, setbacks and all! 

You are all so kind. Really.

My intention was to simply acknowledge that yes, even though simple, sustainable and authentic are my heart’s goals, some days I still wish for the big house and picket fence, the brand new kitchen and the finances to splurge, should we so choose. Just to have the option, really. Some days, it takes some serious work to remember that having those things does not actually mean success. Instead, I should assess my situation in a smaller frame. Was I kind and forgiving today? Did I remember to breathe before reacting negatively? Did I choose healthy foods for my family? Was I a good steward of our resources, be they financial, environmental, or emotional? If the answer is yes, then of course. I am successful.

Thank you for showing up. I didn’t realize I needed the morale boost you so graciously and freely provided, but I am grateful! And I am glad that you’re here.

To the mamas: I wish you a beautiful day tomorrow, in whatever form it may take. May it be free from expectations, and filled with love and sloppy kisses from your littles.

One year ago I sat down and wrote in this space for the first time. Life as I knew it was about to take a huge turn, and we were filled with equal parts stress and hope. Today, nothing in our days looks like we planned then except for the fact that we are all together under one roof. And really, that’s the most important part.

It’s been a lovely year, really, in spite of and maybe because of our setbacks. We’ve met some amazing people, and had many adventures. I’ve been able to focus on being the mama I want to be, and finding a rhythm that works for our little family.

I’m still struggling to define success for myself without basing my criteria on anyone else’s prescribed goals and benchmarks. I have to remind myself that balance  is the keyword, and when looked at with a critical eye, we are truly achieving balance on a daily basis: neither of us waste hours on commuting, we are all home for dinner six nights out of the week, and we are enjoying more flexibility in our schedule than ever before. We have so much going for us, and yet I still get frustrated sometimes at our seeming inability to attain that pesky American Dream, even if we don’t really want it. It would be nice to feel like we’re getting “ahead.” I don’t see how I could possibly be alone in that.

It has been a year of adjustment and revision, of leaving my comfort zone in the dust and finding a new little place to settle into to be more fully myself. I’m finding my voice again, and have been gratified to receive your notes of enjoyment and encouragement here.

As I mark this first anniversary, and make some internal evaluations, could I ask a favor of you? Leave me a comment below. Let me know why you join me in this space, and why our adventure speaks to you. If you’re so inspired, if there’s a post that has spoken to you over the past year, would you share it with your friends in some way?

Thank you for being here, and for joining us on this wild ride. I am grateful for you.

 

A trip to a local greenhouse this weekend with Gramma was just what the doctor ordered. It was positively exhausting to keep little hands from touching everything in sight, but still so, so good to get out and see something green. They were holding an open house, and had a cookie table and activities for the youngsters, both of which were a hit. Especially those cookies.