So it took me a few hours, but I got over yesterday's post.
Many thanks to the Lind and supportive commentary from those of y'all that offered it.
And many thanks to my oldest son. I called him this morning to give him a heads-up. He reads his mom's blog with about the same consistency that most teenagers complete their homework, but I didn't want him blindsighted, either.
For the record, he is MAD. He found it unbelievable that someone would dare make assumptions about his family or his feelings.
In his words, "Yeah, I'm totally cool with what you wrote though, mom." Then he gave me a stern lecture about really needing to know how the Internet works, and how some people ON PURPOSE find blogs to disagree with and start cyber-fights.
"Seriously?" I asked him.
"Um, yeah, mom. Some people just don't have anything better to do with their time."
I suddenly felt a little better about having kids that "waste time" playing video games. At least they aren't picking cyber fights.
Back to farming.
I meant what I said last night.
Farming doesn't hurt as bad.
I was feeling a bit deflated last night as I tucked the girls in and sent the chickens to the coop. And lonely. J is off hunting again. (No luck on last week's moose hunt, and this week was the subsistence caribou opener.) I generally don't mind the hunting trips (can't complain about free, organic, free range food, really). But feeling small and lonely stinks.
I'll admit, I stuck around in the chicken coop looking for a little company. At least until the fumes got to me.
I watched an Alaskan late summer version of a sunset. By sunset, I mean I watched the sky look a little like rain was coming. I scanned the garden for signs of life or food. I looked at the temperate gauge and realized that the chill in the air wasn't just hurt feelings- fall is in the air.
I took a deep breath of crisp, cool air. I saw the sun poking through the tree line in that way that confuses you for a moment as to wether it's sunrise or sunset. I zipped my jacket and headed back to the house, kicking loose rocks down the driveway as I went.
The warmth of the house hit me as I walked in. I'd been canning all day and the house still had a good steam built up. 7 pints of blueberry syrup, one pint canned blueberries, 2 pints of raspberry-rhubarb jam, and a half-pint of fresh blueberries sparkled like jewels on the kitchen table. I set the fresh berries in the fridge, contemplated a cup of coffee and some knitting, then accepted defeat and headed to be instead.
Morning found me in better spirits. Apologies at once to those of you suffering from heat waves in the lower 48, but I woke in a chilly house at 6 am to girls bouncing on the bed demanding breakfast. A quick check of the thermometer outside confirmed it. It was only 48 degrees outside.
I grinned in spite of myself. I always get a kick out of Autumn. Anything that even remotely feels like Autumn gets me feeling pretty zippy. I handed the kids bananas and prayed they wouldn't kill eachother as I threw on some day-old jeans (the best kind!) and a sweatshirt before ducking out into the morning air.
Oh! Fall! It felt like it. It smelled like it. The air even tasted like it. I grinned at the sun peeking through the tree line in that way that confuses you as to whether it's sunrise or sunset. I dialed my son's number as I fed and watered birds.
I made gluten-free, dairy-free blueberry muffins that didn't suck. (anyone interested in the recipe, post in the comments. It's easy and hot skippy! They were good!)
The aroma of hot coffee and blueberry muffins mingled in the air. I surveyed the day's work and after downing a few muffins, got to business.
A mid-morning break and I called my mom to chat. We aren't "every dayers" or even "once a weekers", but it sure was nice to hear a voice from home.
I wondered how hunting was going.
I read stories to the girls.
At nap time, I lingered in the chicken coop, trying to see if any of our new hens are acting like they might want to lay. This is the time of chicken season where you want to start seeing results. It coincides with the time they start eating about 40 lbs of organic feed a week.
The chickens are now 17 weeks old. We should be getting eggs any day now.
The rest of the day passes uneventfully.
I am relieved.
The girls get tucked into bed.
I wander outside to the homemade bench we have by the chicken coop to watch what J calls, "The Chick Channel" (haha).
I watch birds establishing peck order. I watch then do the same things they do every night- peck ground and preen feathers. I watch another late summer Alaskan sunset, and linger for a few minutes even as it starts to rain.
Tonight, I no longer accept defeat.
I brew a cup of coffee.
I listen to rain hit the metal roof.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails