We’ve been breathing deep here. Eating the last of July’s blueberries from the freezer. Winter hogs were slaughtered this morning. Tree forts are in the works. Anticipating warmer months to come. Skipping screen-time for sun-time. Making the most of every day together. Learning hour by hour how to love well and speak life. Showing up and abiding next to one another. Messing up and asking forgiveness and trying again. Every. Single. Day.
I didn’t realize after handing over the garden to the kids last year, they would assume ownership again. But I’ve found them outside many an afternoon, hands covered in soil,mapping out their plans for their raised beds. I am happy to defer to them on the matter of growing things. They blew me away last year with their initiative and effort. No good reason not to let them go at it again. I overheard sibling talk like this the day the seeds came “Now remember Audrey, when we transplanted the cucumbers, they all DIED. In ONE night. SO, I think you should start them outside later on or grow them in peat pots so you don’t have to replant them.” And of course talk like this too “You can’t plant your pumpkin THERE. It will RUIN my garden because it’s so huge. Go ask mom for another garden bed but you are not planting pumpkins next to my peas.” Or this, all spoken in one long breath from the four year old, “Mom, you have to choose one, if you could be ONLY one person, who would you be? Henry the Navigator or Ramses the Great? YOUHAVETOPICKONE!”. Oh the sponge-like nature of the younger, not-really-yet-homeschooling-but-absorbing-tons-every-day life of the Finn.
I need to check on the chickens…last I heard was a hearty “Ay friends, we’re going to catch us some flappers for dinner!” Apparently a thriving game of pirate mixed with frontier life is taking place in the back yard at present. “What are flappers Kyler?” “Chickens of course mom, don’t you speak pirate-ese?”.