My newsfeed today was filled with children in new clothes, most with stiff backpack straps over their shoulders and many holding up fingers or signs to indicate their new step in the journey. So many happy faces.

Our own journey begins on Wednesday. We are venturing into strange and uncertain territory that I am not entirely sure I want to explore. Swee will be attending pre-K at the local public elementary school, and she is so pumped. It’s a small class – only nine students, and two teachers who seem really sweet. There will be ample time for play, and my smart, assertive little miss is showing no signs of anxiety. That’s all me.

I haven’t done any school shopping yet, and she needs a haircut, badly. No idea what I’m going to pack for her lunch (they eat as a class, though it’s only a half-day program). I’m not even sure where I stashed her backpack. It can wait. I’ve still got time.

Instead, we’re playing hard, and I’m trying to keep my nerves from fraying. I shouted today, which did nothing to improve the nasty little moods both girls woke up with. None of us are perfect. But we flew the kite and played tag with the grasshoppers. We dug in the sandbox and slurped up the last of the peaches given to us at the library this weekend. We baked biscuits for the dogs. We read stories and picked flowers and did much snuggling.

And now that they are finally asleep, I’m drinking mint tea while I click through all the photos that never make it off the camera card. I’m soaking my tired, garden-stained feet and soaking up the images of summer sunshine before everything changes again and we’re forced into another season of the unknown.

Commit.

It came to me on my mat. Flat on my back, as shavasana was coming to an end. Commit. Imke – our instructor, our guide – encouraged us to revisit the intention set at the start of our practice, and to release it if it no longer served us. I hadn’t really set an intention at the beginning, but here it was. Commit, and commit fully. Commit to myself, commit to those around me.

I have long lived the habit of keeping my options open, perhaps as a defense mechanism, for if you don’t commit, you can’t get hurt, right? I’ve puzzled through the years at the feeling of disconnection I carried as a teenager and young adult, and over the last week or two since this intention presented itself to me, have begun to consider that perhaps I held myself too closed off from people, even friends, not quite committing to my relationships and yet always stunned when I got left out or let down. That changed a bit in college, thankfully. 

To commit, to be vulnerable. To not live as though I am always waiting for something or someone better to come along, but to welcome opportunities and not hold them at bay. Not at the exclusion of all else, but contrariwise, being honest and open and accepting of the good things that come my way, with confidence that it is ok to do so. The idea of keeping my options open was always meant to provide freedom of choice when in actuality, it kept me from really and truly choosing anything.

And so, two small steps.

Bread. I have now made bread by hand. I have also accepted a friend’s invitation to learn. To join her in her kitchen, to listen to her instruction, to be open about my own ignorance on something and allow myself to be taught – not by a subject-matter expert, but by a peer. Why is it so difficult to admit what we do not know?

Kayaking. Yesterday, I went kayaking. One-on-one with another friend. A week or so ago, I boldly asked if she would take me, and she enthusiastically agreed. I was not immediately coordinated (the fear of ‘not being any good’ has held me back from so much, too much), but got the hang of it by the end of the outing, and it was a beautiful experience – talking, paddling, enjoying the sun and the breeze and the water. Why is it so difficult to ask for what we desire?

I don’t know what will be next, but I hope I remember to say yes. Yes to the invitation, yes to myself, yes to all of the options that will help me grow and connect and be real.

Oh my, it is hot here, and not just by Maine standards. We hit 97* today, maybe higher. Everything is parched and crackly. I’m trying to carefully water my plants in the mornings and evenings, and when I forgot to water altogether several days ago, I thought all was lost. Thankfully most things bounced back, though my pumpkins have a few crispy leaves that won’t recover.

The tomatoes are loving the heat, though I do think they’re the only ones right now. I need to scout out some taller stakes and retie the long drooping arms. They’re trailing along our paths and are in serious danger of being trampled.

I’m told to expect three days of rain starting tomorrow, and while I am hoping that’s true, I’ll believe it when I see it.

The blackberries along the edge of the yard are still producing like crazy, and my girls are scarfing them faster than I can pick. My triceps and shins are scratched and scabby from the brambles, but I can’t pass up free fruit. Swee ate that entire pint above in the time it took me to water the rest of the veggies. It’s no wonder blackberries command such a price at market.

I’ve always been a hobby gardener, planting mostly tomatoes and peppers. I did two short rows of rainbow carrots one year, and the entire crop was just enough to use in a shepherd’s pie. That was eye opening. However, this year I’m truly getting a glimpse of how much space and work would be required to actually farm and produce enough for us to eat. This is the biggest garden I’ve ever had. We harvested the broccoli from five plants last week and it was barely enough to feed all of us at one meal. How many rows of broccoli would we need to plant in order to have several side dishes worth, and then put some in the freezer for winter? I don’t know the answer to that.

Our chickens are almost 16 weeks old, and from what we’ve read, could potentially start laying any time now. We’ve opened up the nesting boxes, though I haven’t seen any of them show any interest in exploring as yet. They do, however, like to snatch grasshoppers out of my hand and run away to devour them. June bugs and ants are also favorites.

So there we are. We didn’t produce nearly what I thought we would at the start of the season, but still more than we ever have before. I suppose that’s the way of it, hmm?

What are you bringing in from the garden this week?

 

 

 

1. Roosters. Plural? Maybe. I think there’s still a teeny chance that Dottie is a she, but (s)he has been making a noise that sounds an awful lot like a traditional cock-a-doodle-doo. I’m way bummed, and can’t imagine dispatching either (s)he or Pansy. Maybe we shouldn’t have named them, because goodness, I do like them both.

2. Bread! I’ve still not attempted my own by hand (meaning sans breadmaker), but we checked out the Maine Artisan Bread Fair last weekend, and interacted with a lot of people who know what they’re doing. As usual, I’m glad we took the girls because they need to be out and about, learning how to handle themselves among other people, but really, I feel like we missed a lot because we were chasing and instructing and parenting.

3. Sunshine. Lots of it lately, and not much rain. The gardens are dry and the ground is cracking. Our lake is so, so low. All that sunshine makes for gorgeous days however, with puffy clouds and big happy flowers. Our first sunflower opened yesterday, and the rest look ready to burst.

4. Fall? Maybe soon. Yellow leaves are drifting down onto the town beach, and the nights are crisp. My girls are back in long-sleeved jammies with pants, and there’s a scent to the air that makes me think of football. I’ve been watching our pumpkins swell and grow (gardeners: do I need to do anything with them other than make sure they stay on the vine?). Our apple tree dropped a lot of fruit during a rare storm, so I’ve gathered it up for the pigs next door. We’ve been budgeting for snow tires, and talking about how to get the snowmobile running for this winter. Seems odd to have such conversations in 87* weather, but we know the cold is coming.

And that’s all I’ve got right now. Balance has been elusive this past week, and I’ve been left feeling like I’m burning the candle at both ends. I suppose that if there’s food in the fridge and on the table, and if my littles are smiling and (somewhat) clean, then it will all iron itself out in the end, yes? Of course it will. And a little seasonal shift to refresh us all might actually be most welcome.