HAPPY, JOYOUS 2016

To you, our beloved family and friends!

I'm sitting looking out over a snowy landscape, delighting in the nuthatches that have made an appearance at our new bird feeder, and taking stock of our lives this past year. I'm just soaking in the good memories and letting the bad memories slide down my cheeks and away. This life, this messy, beautiful life... So here's the good:

 After four, agonizingly long years, The Wood Artist was able to trade in his slick truck job  (hauling pipe in the Bakken oilfields of North Dakota) for a carpenter's belt here at home. What a blessing that, last August, he was able to get a job back at home in the construction field.  We are soaking up family time and giving thanks for every moment. He keeps busy helping me parent two lively teenagers, and getting caught up on long-overdue projects.

My year has been full of personal stretching.  Some days are best described as, "There appears to have been a struggle." But, truly, God has been so good to me! I still run my reading therapy studio and love my students.  This year I added an experimental group class in writing and literature. I'm testing the waters to see how I might expand my business as I have more time.  Another area that has been a dream fulfilled is that I started teaching at the hybrid school that our kids attend. It is a one-day school where you can sign up for various classes according to your need/interest.  The kids are accountable to the teacher, but are able to work at home within their own needs/learning styles. I get to teach humanities (a mix of history and literature) to twenty-nine 3rd and 4th graders.  I'm being stretched as I've never taught the Socratic literature circle before, but am continually inspired by the fires of curiosity that are lit in my classroom.  What an extraordinary group of kids!

My other activities are home schooling our kids and trying to squeeze in the healthy things like snow shoeing, walking, and personal education.  I'm pretty sure my posterior is welded to the seat of the car as I facilitate the myriad of activities our kids find to participate in.

 Laughing Water is 16 now. Wow! She was so little when I started this blog! She's a junior. We home school her, but really, with attending the hybrid school and taking a math class online, we really don't spend any time teaching her.  She lives in a world of books and friends, tea and conversation.  It is fun to listen as she talks about what she wants to do with her future.  Her faith is important to her and she spends much time deeply pondering it.

She has taken up writing in earnest and has her first article-for-pay being published by "Insight" magazine this month. She is involved in a journalism class and writes for our valley's home school newsletter.  This photo of her was taken on the Gulf of Mexico while she was enroute to Brazil for a mission trip.  She sailed on a mission boat up the Rio Negra and helped with health clinics and children's ministries.  Most of the trip was a wonderful experience. However, she came down with Montezuma's revenge and spent Thanksgiving Day on IVs.  She bounced back quickly, though, and returned with a plethora of wonderful stories.

She took driver's ed last summer and will soon be able to help me with all that driving.

Mr. Blueberry Eyes is 13 and in the seventh grade. He is one of the hardest working kids I've ever known. He is definitely happiest in a pair of downhill skis or on the back of a horse.  It was a year of stretching for him, too, as he spent a month working on my aunt and uncle's ranch in North Dakota.  He had just had to say goodbye to his own horse, so it was comforting to be around other horses.  He did lots of chores and helped with tack and equipment and even pulled a few weeds.  He is pretty sure he was born to be a rancher.

This boy has grown 2 inches since August, and that would explain his enormous capacity for sleep and food!  It is such a joy to watch his sense of humor grow and his curiosity about the world around him take on new levels.

Probably our best memory of 2015 was our vacation in June.  For a week, we participated in the Fort Seward wagon train re-enactment based out of Jamestown, ND. We were assigned a covered wagon with an experienced teamster and traveled 70 miles by riding in that wagon, walking, or riding horseback, all the while dressed in the clothing in keeping with the period. We ate at the chuckwagon and sang around the campfire, and soaked in the experiences that shaped our country. We had the time of our lives and by the end of the week had 150 new friends that felt like family.  I'll post more about it soon.

We send our love to you all in this new year!

-Nanette

You Can't Make This Stuff Up

Dear Officer,

You've asked me to give you a narrative of what happened yesterday in the huckleberry patch.  Here it is, as nearly as I can remember. 

Around mid-morning I was following my brother, Schnicklefritz, up a mountain road where we were to meet some friends to pick huckleberries.  Schnicklefritz was riding on a moped.  The moped began having mechanical trouble and we decided to tow him behind the car.  It seemed like a good idea at the time.  After driving this way for a couple of miles, I noticed that there was an old Jeep behind us.  Since this mountain is rather popular among pie pickers, I didn't think much of it.  Presently, however, I noticed a red, flashing light on the dash of the Jeep.  I stopped.  The driver commanded me in a very authoritative voice to pull over at the next wide spot.  Being a law abiding citizen, I did.  At this point the driver pulled up beside me and asked if I was okay.  I told him I was.  I noticed that he was one of three males in the Jeep.  He said they were rangers from a local ranger district and proceeded to pass me.  Immediately, I said to my children, "They are not rangers.  The are not in an official vehicle.  They have no government plates, or uniforms."

I didn't think much more on the subject because it quickly became apparent that towing a moped was not in Schnicklefritz's best interest. (He nearly catapulted over the embankment.)  We determined that he would push the moped the rest of the way up the mountain and I would go on to find our friends. Along the way, I passed a lady and a teenaged boy who looked like huckleberry pickers.  Their eyes, however, were a bit wide and they looked slightly rattled.  Again, I didn't cogitate on it.  Now, I have to say, I have a great weakness.  When I set out to pick huckleberries, I'm, shall we say, focused.  Knowledge of this will help in understanding my response to the rest of the day's events.

Presently, I came around a corner and spotted a tent and a car.  In front of the car was a gentleman who was a dead ringer for Bilbo Baggins.  He was short, had curly, mouse-colored hair, wore only summer shorts, no shirt, no shoes.  Apparently this Bilbo was feeling deeply connected with his Took side, as he was pacing back and forth in a guard-stance.  He had an AK47 slung over his shoulder and puffed smoke rings in the air..  He flagged me down and asked if I was a commercial picker.  I said I wasn't and he stated that there were rangers checking permits.  I then discovered that Bilbo was in our group of pickers.  He politely laid down his weapon and we introduced ourselves.

We began to compare notes and he stated that the "rangers" flashed a badge at him and said they were under-cover, checking permits.  (That covert operation didn't last long.  "Hi, I'm under cover.") I was busily pulling out buckets and bear spray and was listening with mild interest.  He repeated another tidbit or two that sounded downright unprofessional of them. They had frightened the other pickers so badly that they left. I raised an eyebrow when he said they all had shotguns lying on their laps.  "You know, Bilbo," I said casually as I tromped over the bank for the first purple gold, "I don't think they are rangers."

By this time, I was beginning to realize that Bilbo was a slightly paranoid soul.  It occurred to me that  I shouldn't have pointed out the fact that these undercover rangers were likely just bullies armed to the teeth. At this point I did notice that I was in a rather interesting situation, but, the berries are really good this year, and I was focused.  Besides, there were others there, whom I knew, and I felt safe enough.  After some chatting, Bilbo's brother, Lundy Taylor, decided to check with the police.  (Think Lundy from the tv miniseries, "Christy".  He isn't at all like Lundy, but Laughing Water's first siting of him was through the berry bushes and he gave her that distinct impression.)  The police confirmed that they had no compliance checkers in the area and were keen to check up on the story.

The berries really are amazing and we were in some good patches.  When the real ranger got there, I gave him my story.  He gathered Bilbo's story, too, though I noticed that the AK47 was no longer slung over his tanned torso.  I went back to picking.  Presently, I heard the officer leave.  Then the  Jeep.  The Jeep however, began driving back and forth by our area and I began to worry about my car.  I left the most amazing bushes to check on my car.  About the time I arrived, the Jeep came back, with only the driver.  I was wondering where Undercovers II and III were, when Undercover I stepped out of his vehicle and tried to engage me in conversation.  I noted that his side arm was, at least, in its holster.  Bilbo and his reappeared AK47 were on my other side. (My bear spray was feeling slightly anemic.) We chatted briefly about lies for a moment and I decided to move on as it appeared that he was trying to escalate the situation, and, frankly, I had berries to pick.

After that, it seemed best to remove the children, so I offered to take a Grandmother, and the four children between us home - just in case.  Bilbo magnanimously offered to patrol ahead of me for a bit, which did not set my mind at ease.  As we rolled slowly down the road, Bilbo sauntered back up to meet us and only then did I realize that he intended to go with us.  Now, we were crowded.  Every seatbelt was used up and my son was sitting in the way-back with my berries.  Bilbo graciously showed me how he was unloading the AK47 and then jumped in the back of the car and we drove the 45 minutes down the mountain trail.  We didn't see Undercovers I, II, and III, but we were told they left the mountain about 10 minutes behind us.
 
After taking everyone to safety, I returned to mountain and had a peaceful evening picking huckleberries with Schnicklefritz and Lundy.  I netted about three and a half gallons. - Nanette

A Twilight Walk Through the Garden II

The brassicas are growing nicely.  They are large enough that I can take the chicken wire off of them.

I can already taste the pickles....

Mr. Blueberry Eyes is particularly excited about the garlic scapes.  He likes them pickled with the cucumbers.

The herb garden...

The elderberry plant is setting on quite a few berries.  I hope to make elderberry syrup for medicinal purposes.

A baby Bartlett pear!  It will be my first year for pears.

A first for golden delicious apples, too!

The three currant bushes are getting large and lush.

The grape vine is starting to twine up the fence.

Emmert wheat.  This should be a fun experiment.

There is so much more, but that is for another post. - Nanette

A Twilight Walk Through the Garden I

Come walk with me through my garden.  Evening is my favorite time to check the progress in my plot of Earth.  This is a cold, rainy year and some of my crops are doing great and some are not very happy.

I think this is the best year I've had for spinach.

I planted about 4 kinds of kale.  This is "Ragged Jack"

Snow peas in the making...

I'm so excited over the progress of the asparagus patch. 

Blueberry crop in the making....

I had to replant the zucchini, so it is a bit behind.

I'm trying a new potato method.  I laid the seed potato on top of the ground and covered it with straw. As the potatoes grow, I layer compost, leaves, etc. on it.  If huge green plants are an indication, it will be a good harvest.

Good Mother Stollard pole beans will grow on the fence.

Splendid, For Short

 I've wanted to try my hand at bee keeping for a long time.  I know NOTHING about bees and wasn't at all sure how to start.  But, about a year ago, we had some great, new neighbors move in.  Mr. Blueberry Eyes was delighted because they have kids he can play with.  I was delighted because they enjoy experimenting with plants and creatures like I do.  And they keep bees. 

 This spring they offered to help me start my own hive and I was delighted. So now we're on a learning curve.  I have a little hive tucked in by the corner of the garden.  We have plans to paint cute things on the hive, but we'll see....

 

 This is the queen as she arrived.  She took to the hive and it is now thriving.  Like most creatures around our place, we felt compelled to name her.  So, I'm pleased to introduce to you Her Majesty Lady Regina Maria Elizabeth Splendidopolous LXXVIII.  We'll call her Splenda for short.

Life is Like That

      I'm sitting at a new coffee shop in a strange town that oddly feels like home.  I've brought my kids here to see their friends and to participate in spiritual refreshment and community service.  I'm supposed to be in a meeting, too.  But I'm playing hooky.  Today didn't suit sitting in a meeting.  It called for soul nurturing. So I'm reflecting.  I'm thinking about my garden and what a metaphor for life it is.
      This is a particularly yummy year for my garden.  Some of my perennials are starting to flourish and I'm realizing some long held dreams for this spot of earth.  My pear tree is blossoming (above).  I bought it as a spindly little thing a few years ago.  Now every graft has set on a flourish of blossoms.  I'm told I'll have to pick off much of the fruit this year.  Its best for the tree to put more energy into the roots.  It also makes the fruit that is left bigger.  I don't like culling and thinning.  Its not in my nature, but it is an important skill every gardener must develop. How like life!

 My apple tree also blossomed.  Those are golden delicious apples in the making.  I got so excited I popped down to my favorite local nursery and bought two more. You can roll your eyes.  Its okay.  I know I need help.

 We found some great sources for garden amendments this spring.  A local dairy boasts hormone/antibiotic-free, well-aged manure, so some gardening friends and I lined up trucks to be loaded.  Then Brother Schnickelfritz found a great source for llama manure.  We hauled a lot of wheelbarrow loads of poop onto the garden.  One day you are wallowing in poop.  The next, good things are growing.  Life.

 My strawberry patch is having mixed results.  Half of it is crazy productive.  Within a week or so, we'll have a heavy crop of juicy berries that are completely unmatched by anything you can find in the supermarket.  Half of the patch got a bad start last year and I had to replant.  Life is like that.

My father-in-law gave me a large amount of raspberry canes last year.  I planted them and watched them anxiously while they decided whether (or not) to put down their roots.  I couldn't be sure.  Last fall the visible part was so-so.  But in the turning of winter to spring, life burst out of them You can't be sure what is going on underneath, you know. Life is like that, too.

A Place to be Safe

I'm slipping and sliding my way over the constricted snow-turned-ice when I see him.  I'm heading toward the chicken coop to put the girls to bed and gather the white and brown orbed gifts they left for me today.  He is coming toward me from the opposite side of the coop, a young teen with nice clothes and a popular hat.  He's been crossing that neighborly fence for a lot of years now, though with decreasing regularity. He's a little older than my son, but they spotted each other, two little towheads, when they were quite young and he was drawn across the fence by the promise of play. Many were the happy hours those two spent playing in the garden mud hole.  I can see them now, freckles sprinkled all cinnamon like across their noses, robbing my carrot patch, washing the dirt in the sprinkler.  They ate so many carrots that summer I thought they would burst. I won't forget the delight in their faces as they helped husk the painted mountain corn, oohing over each new collection of jeweled colors.  How they played! 

 

 He seemed content to stay with us for long periods of time, cheerfully pitching in with the chores.  He was polite and loved eating the healthy fare I fed them.  Yet he was a mystery. His parents never came over to meet me.  His grandmother and I had chatted over the fence, but no one in his family bothered to check if he was in a safe place.  He would go home reluctantly, as late as possible, often after our northern summer sun had set.  Mostly he came in the summer.  He lived elsewhere during the school year.

 

As time went on, he seemed to find other interests and visited less often.  I heard rumors that made me worry a bit.  A dad with a hair-trigger temper. A devastating accidental death in the family that broke his little heart.  Each spring, he would arrive a little taller, always adorable, but a spot of sadness on his little face.  We just tried to welcome him.  It was a puzzle.  A clean, well dressed, polite boy, but clearly at risk, he was.

 

Tonight, he made his way into the house, obviously feeling welcome. We hadn't seen him for months and he had grown tall.  He made small talk and I probed gently. I was met with the briefest of answers.  He joined us for Scripture reading and I prayed for him and his family.  I prayed peace and joy for them.  I sent my son to bed then.  It was bedtime and he was exhausted from a long day of skiing.  But still the boy stayed. He seemed reluctant to leave. He joined our banter about remote countries in Africa, diamonds, industry and we made guesses over some of the vocabulary words in Laughing Water's geography text.  It was dry homework.  But he stayed.  I wondered.  What is he avoiding?  Why is this more interesting (more safe?)?  He finally stood to leave and slowly made his way to the door.  Using his cell phone for a flashlight, he moved silent across the field of ice between our homes. 

 

I've always fancied that I should be in a foreign land, spreading the Gospel.  But tonight, I had a deep sense of knowing that I am right where I am supposed to be - even if it is just to provide a boy with a soft chair, a little laughter, and a prayer. - Nanette