Fresh Start with Old Traditions

Hello my fine friends. I hope this week is finding you all well. I should be out in the beautiful weather, but last night I was digging around on my computer hunting down for a photo for something, and I came across these photos that I took only two or three months ago while on a little adventure not far from my own homestead. I wandered off the beaten path and found another beaten path that was much more interesting and pulled out my camera and enjoyed the peaceful afternoon shooting and imagining the life that once was. Actually, the photos I am about to show you are all behind me, as I stand on this path. I drove up and behind me is what I found so beautiful in its own worn way. I will turn the camera around in a moment to show you what made me gasp in both excitement at the beauty and gasp at the sorrow of the abandonment. I didn't take my camera out for some time. In fact, this photo you see of the path was the one of the last photos I took right before I left my little adventure. 

As I walked around this place, first with sorrow, I began to have a different feeling overcome me. By the way, I walked around with a crowbar hooked over my arm at all times. I always have a crowbar in my car for all sorts of reasons, but mainly, because I tend to find myself in these types of situations and a crowbar comes in handy when a stray dog comes out charging and you can't tell if the charge is a happy-charge-let's-play or I'm-charging-to-get-you-off-my-land charge...and I have had both. Remember, I am from Texas, so crowbars in cars are common...but I digress.

But as I was saying...after much walking around the area and deciding that no one or nothing was going to charge, I got out my camera and once behind the lens, my sorrowful feeling went away. I began to feel completely different. And because of the way I felt, I decided to shoot my photos in a completely different mode and setting. This mode gave a touch of exactly how I felt while I was shooting - it gave the this abandoned area a lift full of grit. The good kind of grit that I will explore and explain as I share my photos that I shot in a completely different mode.

I hope you enjoy my photo essay:

FRESH START WITH OLD TRADITIONS






I drive down this very long path next to a field and just keep going. It was so wonderfully quiet, a slight wind blowing and I was lost...in my thoughts as well as off the beaten path. Potholes filled with water jolted me back to reality as the holes were much deeper than they appeared as the water hid how deep the holes really were.


As I drove further down the path, I come upon this abandoned farmhouse and broken down barn. The beauty and stillness stopped me in my tracks. 

I am realizing I am keeping my distance, but I am not sure why...

I realized that I kept my distance for a bit, not wanting to interfere with this whole area. But that wasn't like me. Usually, I just clammer for my camera, march right in and just start clicking away. But this time, I left my camera in the car and walked the peripheral instead. 

It wasn't that I was afraid...(maybe I should have been!)

It was something different this time.  

As I circled the property, lost in my thoughts, but at peace with the beauty and yet puzzled as to how such a wonderful place could end with such neglect, I heard something and I stopped in my tracks.

I cocked my head and listened some more...what was that? I put my hand on my crowbar that I hooked into my jeans pocket by now and walked around the barn...it was very faint sound, not a threat, but something...

And then I found this:

A pinwheel!

It was at this moment that I no longer saw this property as "old" or "worn" or "abandoned." I stood there watched it twirl just enough to make that little sound that had made me reach for my crowbar only moments earlier and smiled to myself. I realized that while I did find this place beautiful, I had also felt sorrow. But suddenly, that sorrow went away because this pinwheel reminded me that it perhaps this place wasn't abandoned at all...

...perhaps the residents, the homesteaders, went on to make a fresh start. It was at this point I went back the way I came and got my camera and retraced my steps and took the photos you just saw above so you could see what I saw when I first arrived, as I saw the place myself.  Well, when I got to the pinwheel and stood here to take the photo and feeling happy about my newfound feelings, it was then that I really looked up from my new angle that I hadn't seen yet and this is when I got another perspective on the whole deal:

First I will crop the photo from where I was standing next to the pinwheel:

When I first looked up from my pinwheel, I immediately saw the house and how beautiful it looked through the trees and snapped my pic. When I checked the photo in my viewfinder, I was shocked to see this giant blue "thing" in my viewfinder, and so I pulled my camera away from my face and looked over my camera to see what in the world did I miss, and right there was this giant blue trash can! I never noticed it when I snapped my pic!

And that is when I realized that this place had grit and I think I have some too. 

Grit can mean all sorts of things to all sorts of people, but  my computer dictionary basically says:

grit |grit|noun1 small, loose particles of stone or sand : she had a bit of grit in her eye.• [as adj. ] (with numeral) indicating the grade of fineness of anabrasive : 220-grit paper.• (also gritstone) a coarse sandstone : layers of impervious shales and grits.2 courage and resolve; strength of character : he displayed the true grit ofthe navy pilot.verb ( gritted , gritting ) [ trans. ]1 clench (the teeth), esp. in order to keep one's resolve when faced with an unpleasant or painful duty : figurative Congress must grit its teeth and take action | [as adj. ] ( gritted) “Not here,” he said through gritted teeth.2 [ intrans. ] move with or make a grating sound : fine red dust that gritted between the teeth.

My eyes went automatically over the trash, right to the beauty and I think that takes "resolve when faced with an unpleasant or painful duty." I was determined that this place was meant for beauty and not trash. And I think this homestead, and thousands like it around our country are full of beautiful grit because they show the resolve and strength and character of the residents who lived during a time that comforts came with hard work. Disaster was met with dignity. And fresh starts might meant abandoning an old location, but not old traditions. 

I feel very at home with homesteading and doing things with tradition. If you have been following me for some time, you know I am big believer in fresh starts too. Whether that fresh start is by choice or circumstances, we still will always be free to take along on our new journeys our traditions. 

I come from a long line of homesteaders. My forefathers arrived here from England in Boston, MA in 1634. Richard Maxson and Mary Mosher arrived for a fresh start when they landed so long ago. How they must have felt. I can't imagine. I walk around and snap photos and think.

Everything my forefathers left behind to start fresh again. It was very hard on them. Along with other settlers, while gathering goods and food, Richard Maxson and and his 13-year old son were killed by Indians. His wife, Rebecca and a few others, managed to get back into the boat and landed on an island, now known as Rhode Island. Shortly after, John Maxson was born. Rebecca was pregnant at the time she lost her husband. John was the first white child to be born on the island.

I think of the hardships then and the hardships we all experience now. And yet, we still move on, move forward, and somehow, with grit, we start again. I said we start "again" and not "over" because "over" sounds like doing the same thing twice. "Again" sounds like a second chance to me. A chance to do something different and to see things with a fresh eye. Like how I saw the house, and never saw the blue trashcan.

We may uproot our life, but we carry on our heritage and can still find beauty with the grit. My forefathers came over on a ship called "Griffin." And he then became a blacksmith. I can't even begin to imagine that long voyage and then immediately start working over heat and iron day after day. That is grit.

And I wonder about these homesteaders. Did this tree happen after they moved on? Or was this the circumstance that caused the move? Either way, it is a fresh start, whether they chose it or not. Just like my ancestor, Rebecca, who lost her husband, but then shortly after had his son, John. She lost, then gained. She moved on. She obviously did what she needed to do because her son, John, grew up and he moved on...but took his traditions with him.

I liked looking at these stairs. See the scuff marks on the kick plate? I wonder who kicked it as they went up and down and how often did a mother yell out, "Quit running down the stairs!" to her children? 

The pinwheel didn't get out to the barn on its own.

And speaking of barn, I make my way around the house and start to head over there to get a better look as I turn and get one last look at this beautiful home that once took care of its residents. It almost looks like a movie set, I think. Except, this is real life, no play acting here. Real love, real heartache, real mourning, real laughter, real pain, and I bet, a lot of real joy...

The joy of sunsets and sunrises..

The joy of fresh bread baking...

The joy of hearing the kids laughing in the yard...

The joy of fresh rain after days of hot weather...

The joy of seeing a loved one arrive home safely...

The joy of napping under a shady tree...

The joy of secret kisses when someone isn't looking...

The joy of bringing in sun-dried sheets and their scent...

The joy of watching the trees' leaves change colors...

The joy of a good meal with good friends...

The joy of thanking God for blessing us with so much...

The list goes on and on.

But that is what I mean when I say that we all get fresh starts, but that doesn't mean we can't keep our traditions - whatever they may be.

Joy is wherever you choose to look.  Even over a yucky blue trashcan. Just got to see it.

And now, I will leave you with a few more photos, and no words. I will let you find the beauty yourselves. 

This little adventure with my driving off the beaten path was good for my soul and I hope for you too. It reminded me that no matter where we come from, our circumstances, or if we are where we want to be in the first place...keeping our traditions close to us while going forward takes grit. And grit is a good thing because it keeps the blue trash cans of life out of view.

We need to remember that trash cans are really for just that: trash. 

They are a necessary part of life, a real part of life, and we can't avoid them, nor should we. But it doesn't mean we have to stick our head in it and smell what's inside of them!

We can stick our head out the window and get a great view of life if we choose too..no matter what the window looks like. Remember, we ain't looking at the window, it's our view...point.  :-)

From my house to your house,

Back to the Basics and Having a Ball...

Hello!

I hope everyone is doing well and enjoying the spring weather. We just had a huge hail storm, and our cars got a good beating, but other than that, the weather for the most part, has been just beautiful.

I thought I would share with you something I've been enjoying all winter long (well actually for many years, but recently picked up pretty much full time again).

And now that it is spring, going into summer, I find it harder to spend time in the kitchen with such beautiful weather. So to keep my love of cooking on the front burner (yes, pun intended), I decided to pull out some oldies, but goodies...Ball canning jars...and Atlas as well. I use these jars all the time to hold buttons (as you have seen), paper scraps, and all sorts of simple things that just seem extra special when viewed through the bubbled colored glass of these old favorite jars. So I decided why not use them to hold my ingredients that I use so often when I am cooking? I know, not an original idea, but for me, it felt fresh...and it keeps my ingredients fresh as well. Sometimes, going back in time feels right because, stepping back helps to slow things down a bit.

As I pulled out these old jars and gave them a good wash, I couldn't help but admire how they have held up over the years and how they must have served so many. I especially liked the wording on these jars....Strong Shoulders and Perfect. Just like the women who so long ago must have been...strong women who worked in the horrible heat (no comfy A/C) as they canned, and how they did it perfectly so to have wonderful, unspoiled fruit and vegetables in the cold winter. What creative talent combined with hard work.

I like how these very old jars not only did the job, the job was usually done by women. And I really enjoy the fact that way before the feminist movement, these women worked their butt off, working the garden, harvesting and canning to provide food for their families, and yet somehow, generations later, women who chose to stay home instead of working for an employer, were not revered as part of the "workforce." I am shaking my head with that last sentence in amazement. Women have ALWAYS worked...I think it is up to us (as individuals) to define for ourselves our own definition of "work" and not mix up "work" and "self-worth."

Those are very two different topics for another day.

Today, I just feel like showing off my jars and talking about jars and some bread....  :-) 

So, like I was saying, I love to cook. And I cook from scratch. And for me to do that, I need to have some very basic ingredients on hand and I have very little pantry space and it is very dark to dig into it and see what's what when I do my marketing -which I do once a week. So, here is my solution, borrowed from women of long ago and probably from some of you out there who already do this...you creative cooks...and so I will show you my little stash:

I like tying twine around the lid instead of the jar, if possible. That way, when I take the lid off, it is out of the way as I make my mess and the tag doesn't get messed up had I tied it to the jar itself.

Some of my everyday ingredients that I always have on hand are: organic natural white flour, organic whole wheat flour, bread flour, steel oats, long grain brown rice, local bread crumbs from the Italian bakery, powder sugar, cane sugar, and corn meal. I also always have olive oil, kosher salt, pepper corns, real vanilla, and many other things I will cover in another post some time soon.

I know you eagle eyes out there spotted my very cool blue/teal scale in the photo that shows the dish holder on the counter...

This little beauty came from a beautiful friend, Gretchen. She is one of those friends that always seems to know exactly what to get you when you least expect it. And best of all, it is ACCURATE! So, I can't blame the scale when my creation turns into cremation...hahahha!  But ain't she wonderful...old, worn, and just the right amount of rust (I'm talking about the scale here, not Gretchen....)

Well, did all those ingredients make you a little hungry? No? Well then, did the scale make you at least want to weigh something? Yes? Well, one thing we don't buy a lot of over here is bread. We try not to eat too many chemicals and bread is filled with preservatives. My barber husband loves my buttermilk biscuits and I even make the homemade buttermilk that goes in the recipe. Sounds all fancy-schmancy, but it isn't. Super-duper easy and will share that too, but not today.

But for now, here are two loaves of whole wheat bread. I had made so many loaves and finally took time to take a pretty picture for you and someday, I will remember to take the "process" photos of how it is done...when I think about it, I am usually half way finished and my hands gooey. But I need to take photos...I use a very old tin dough-rising bowl with a tin lid...which really works! I love my tin dough...now that I think of it, I should have taken a photo, it was just on the next counter. Oh well.

Here is one result that comes from the ingredients out of the old Ball jars sitting on my counter:

Whole wheat bread...very moist and slightly chewy when cut right out of the oven!

When taking a photo of the Ball jar you see in the forefront on the left of the photo, I noticed in the background our two cats, Tia (mamma), and Zoe (daughter). They are always close by, watching my every move - when they aren't busy boxing for the warm spot by the window. Never mind they always end up in the same position anyway...curled up into one giant fur ball.

But when I look at Tia and Zoe so content by the window, sleepily peeking their eyes open at me now and again as I go from room to room and about my business, there is a level of comfort in the house. Or as Tia sticks her head into the kitchen (she isn't allowed in the kitchen, but will crank her head aaallll the way in as far as she can to get a whiff of whatever I am making), she feels assured that I am there, and more often than not, she gets a treat, then heads back to the window seat...for... a cat nap.

But I think with my cooking by scratch, and seeing the ingredients on hand in glass jars, I am are forced to slow down. The jars are heavier, and made of glass, so I must carefully pick them up and carefully put them down again...no slippery hands allowed. And wiping them down is a must. Unlike the paper flour store bag that is so easily grabbed, dug into and then carelessly tossed back into the pantry. Time... just... slows... down naturally...and it feels wonderful (never mind the wonderful smell of fresh baked bread)!

And the time spent while the dough rises...is a time not to multi-task, but now it is MY turn to peek around the corner and look at Tia and Zoe curled up so tightly. I very often find myself walking quietly over to them and sitting next to them and petting their soft fur and enjoying the sound of their purring without them even opening their eyes. I realized one day that is why I rarely have the radio or TV on the house...

...it is in those moments when the dough is rising, I like to be able to hear their purring. And sometimes, I think as I sit and pet Tia and Zoe, I can hear myself purr with contentment too.

May you find your contentment during your day and find a way to make your heart purr with happiness. Who says we are too old to play with dough? And if dough isn't your thing, then I hope you find some time to figure out what simple thing makes your heart purr with contentment and then I hope you come back and share it with me. I would love to hear about it...and hear you purr too :-)

From my house to your house,

Urgent Serenity

Hello!

I hope this posting finds you all well.

I hate that I waited so long to write again, as that was not my plan. But lately, a lot of things have not been "my plan" and although I try to go with the flow, I just haven't been flowing so easily lately.

As exciting as life can be at times for me, I have noticed for quite a while now that something is amiss. 

No, "amiss" isn't the right word, because the word "amiss" means, that something is wrong. Nothing is wrong in my life. But lately, for many months actually, my life has felt ....hmmmm....what is the right word?

I can't think of just one word to describe how I have been feeling for some time now, so I will borrow a phrase of how a good friend of mine is feeling as well: I am feeling of late like a square peg not fitting into a round hole.

And the thing is, I don't really care about fitting into the round hole. In fact, the round hole doesn't even really interest me at this point. I am not even sure I am square shaped...but whatever shape, it ain't fitten'. And that is what is throwing me off a bit, I think. I've never been one to try to fit in a group, but I usually find some joy in going with the flow, so to speak. But for some time now, I just find myself not really going with the flow, nor really wanting to. Sorta feel like bucking the system...

I find myself more and more lately enjoying being on the sidelines, doing my own thing and not really wanting to participate in keeping up with the group. Whatever that "group" may be. 

At first I thought maybe my interest were changing (or evolving), but after giving this some great thought, and time, I realized, that wasn't it. I still enjoy what I do and I still write and photograph, create, and so on.

Then I thought maybe I was feeling like a square peg not fitting in a round hole because of quite a few big disappointments in my life lately and some major hurts. But that wasn't it. And then I thought, hormones? Maybe...but it is more than that. I then really hurt my knee, and I am getting an MRI, and I haven't been very mobile, and I thought, maybe that put me in a funk mood, but then, I realized it wasn't that either.

It wasn't those things because I am looking forward, not backwards. Like I said, nothing is amiss. I am just feeling like I don't fit in anywhere. 

But you might be asking, "Where is this 'anywhere' she keeps talking about?" By "anywhere" I mean anywhere that is out there in the world. I know I must not be the only one who has felt this way at one time or another. I know there are times we may feel melancholy for the "good ole days" and feel like we don't fit in. Or maybe we don't feel like we fit in sometimes because technology has taken over and we just miss having front porches where REAL people actually walked across the street and sat down and spoke face to face...those  moments I get and understand, and I think we all have those moments of not feeling like we fit in and feel disconnected with the world.

But those are not the feelings I am describing when I tell you that these past months I feel like a square peg not fitting in a round hole; nor am I interested in the hole itself. 

The feeling I am talking about when I say I am square peg that doesn't fit in a round hole has taken me quite a few months to finally pinpoint it, but I think I got it. What I finally realized is that the "hole" that I am no longer interested in, nor fitting in, is the supposed urgency of it all...

...there seems to be (to me at least) a relentless urgent energy "out there" to be fresh, to be new, to be "it" and to just be, be, be....and everything is just so urgent. All the time. And I have no interest in this constant urgency. 

Am I crazy? Or does anyone else feel this negative, urgent energy?

We, as a culture, talk all the time about slowing down, but in reality, we never do - ever. And in our arena (creative arena...crafts, design, art, cooking, writing, photography, sewing, ....) it seems that there is always, always something going on that someone (everyone!) must be a part of (to get our name out there) and to get our product/idea/name known. 

Trust me, I totally get it, understand it, done, know it, and am not blind to the reality of the business. And there is nothing wrong with that at all; I will still continue to involve myself in  projects or events that I find interesting or want to fit into my schedule that I enjoy. 

But I guess where I don't fit in (nor want to) is this ridiculous sense of urgency of constantly wanting/needing/hoping/looking/digging for the next whatever. It just doesn't fit with who I am at this season in my life. What I have learned with time is that there is absolutely nothing wrong with reaching for the shiny stuff (or in my case...the distressed stuff... :-)

But it just seems to me that while reaching out for the shiny stuff, there is all this constant supposed urgency to get more, do more, be more, have more, no matter what! It seems to be "out there" all the time and I find it draining, while it used to energize me as it does so many other people - hence the square peg and round hole. I feel this urgency is somehow so different now than it was several years ago on a different level. It has a draining, pushy vibe to me...

For a long time, I used to think that maybe I was just burnt out from it all. In fact, I had several people tell me this, and I began to believe them. But I knew better. I knew the difference between tired and burnt out. But I wasn't tired either. I was happy...but just not interested in fitting in anymore and I was definitely not burnt out. Then I thought maybe it was my age. But then last summer I worked long and hard hours on the book in the heat, and I was so passionate about it, I knew I still had the energy and excitement that I did 15 years ago, so it isn't an age thing...

So what was going on? I pondered for months.

I am not one to accept not knowing what is going on and not one to sit around without answers. I very much lack patience. That is probably my worst character flaw, I think. I think God is really working on that flaw these past months. I sorta feel sorry for Him...I am a tough case.

So if you stuck with me this far, then I am guessing you either are going through something similar, or, you are just curious to what I finally am going to end up saying....me too. I am curious how this post will end as well.

Well, the title of this post is: Urgent Serenity

Serenity means: The state of being calm, peaceful, and untroubled.

And that right there, folks, is where my living is incongruent with what I am feeling is "out there." I have no interest in the moment in being a part of all the urgency of doing, being, reporting, and becoming whatever the next best latest and greatest whatever "out there" is dictating, proclaiming, or exclaiming "it" to be. 

The title of this post is an oxymoron.  My life these past months, I believe, has been one as well. I believe, after much pondering, I have been urgently seeking serenity in my life.

Now, aint that a kick in the butt?

Urgently seeking serenity?  That is like planning spontaneity. 

So, why am I sharing this? Well, for a couple of reasons. First, I like you. No, actually, I really love you (a lot) and I figured that if I am feeling this stuff, then maybe someone out there is too and they won't feel so alone and may actually be okay with being a square peg right now as well. 

Also, not wanting to "play ball" with the group is okay too. Whatever or whomever that group may be, they can go hang on their own for a while. You can go do your thing and feel really good about it. Who cares what is supposedly so urgent "out there" that you supposedly must do to keep up so you will fit in...you may want to slow down and think if you really are still interested in fitting in with that group in the first place...you decide, not them.

Secondly, I am sharing because during my months of wondering what was going on inside my peabrain, I did discover several neat things along the way.

Like I said in the beginning, nothing is wrong in my life. In fact, things are very good. I just felt out of sorts, as I tell my barber husband, when I don't have the words. "Out of sorts" to me is when things are okay in life, but you don't sleep well. 

Well, on my rapid road to serenity, (that is hilarious) I rediscovered my love for cooking from scratch and discovered some new things about living very simply. Yes, I did happen to document some of these things that I will share later.

I discovered ways with my barber husband in which we are making a new journey in how we live and we are loving it and I will share those as well as time goes on. It is nothing new, but new to us and that is what makes it exciting. I also realized that there are some things I never shared with you that I do in everyday life that a friend pointed out to me. She was shocked that I never once posted about these things. It just never occurred to me you would even care, but she insisted, so I might post those things as well.

So in the meantime, if you find yourself not as interested in things or needing to be involved as much as you once were in a group of friends, activity, or a community group....don't just automatically brush it off as you no longer "fitting in" or don't just think that you are just burnt out.

No, maybe your mindset is seeking a little serenity from all of the supposed urgency of what you now decided is really not so important after all. Maybe it is time to really pick and choose how your precious time is spent. It is a tough economy, might as well cut back on your time spent and budget it well. :-)

It is so very easy to allow our time to be dictated by what we thought was so urgent, when in reality, we thought our need was to fit in some group.  

I am finding that my needs are changing and I am excited to share with you over time my new adventures. My hope for you is that you find peace and harmony as your needs are met as you see fit.

From my house to your house,