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.

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