tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8086281340570397022024-02-20T20:48:26.893-08:00Freckled Henthe common good in the ordinary dayFreckled Henhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13214921876047156786noreply@blogger.comBlogger545125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-808628134057039702.post-55677209545727424322024-02-10T06:57:00.000-08:002024-02-10T06:57:13.490-08:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiJDWorG79bLsR8TOu1Euu3tzolqODKoCRHBacaKqTmJougp3jZyq1Jvsn8h05f8KERNZ13wxpd67fuRoY0I2nnuJuibPuyfTuqoR-X2bD74KwWhgwQ8obdozFbHrI3xs4QkAzLjaiJM6thoNBONNO85zL0Cn2B6hfWj63Fr2QkLdxPWzokfZu3ySM/s4032/6A0FD1F0-F027-44D8-AEA6-FF7BE8234939_1_201_a.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="731" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiJDWorG79bLsR8TOu1Euu3tzolqODKoCRHBacaKqTmJougp3jZyq1Jvsn8h05f8KERNZ13wxpd67fuRoY0I2nnuJuibPuyfTuqoR-X2bD74KwWhgwQ8obdozFbHrI3xs4QkAzLjaiJM6thoNBONNO85zL0Cn2B6hfWj63Fr2QkLdxPWzokfZu3ySM/w468-h731/6A0FD1F0-F027-44D8-AEA6-FF7BE8234939_1_201_a.jpeg" width="468" /></a></div><br /> Spring comes early here for my snowy muscle memory of springs. I like this A LOT. I don't have to wait for it, there is no series of days or weeks of my mind going to that place it tries not to, the place of flower buds and robins nests and bumble bees buzzing around on the coldest most frozen of winter days. I just go out to get in my car on any usual morning and blippity boop I see spring bulb flowers poking up. Without any whining at all! It really is a very nice thing. I tell everyone I do miss the real winter of snow and stillness, I do, right? I know I miss the process before winter, the harvest, the putting up of food and cord wood. It is such a nice feeling to feel prepared for winter. I miss those first few snow storms when we all agree "yes, gee whiz that is so much snow" and we feel satisfied knowing we did the hard work and we are warm and comfortable. That doesn't happen here but instead we have months of dark gray and rain rain rain and more rain. So much rain you don't even notice if its a light rain anymore and just do your stuff with hopefully cute raingear (that is the best part of rain, galoshes and cute hooded coats with a plaid or polka dot umbrella, no maybe a deep clear umbrella with black bias trim. See what I mean? It's a fun part of rain.) It's also an excuse to own more than one cute umbrella, because you can match your outfit and not look silly with a faded, wonky, huge golfing umbrella (been that person a few times sadly.)<p></p><p>So today, when Sawyer is done doing his project we are going for a bike ride to find sheep because this year we are going to try and see as many lambs as we can. In any direction there are sheep and we will ride our bikes to find the most we can. It wooly is nice to see lambs in spring when you're used to seeing snow and ice during this part of the year. I think our neighbors would laugh and tell me it isn't even spring really but they don't have any idea what it's like to live burrowed in a house with many feet of snow outside for months at a time. But it's a hard thing to translate appropriately without elevating my voice in hysteria. I mean they still wear wooden clogs in the garden! But that's a whole other post and Sawyer is just about done. Ewe are the best and don't let anyone tell ewe otherwise.</p>Freckled Henhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13214921876047156786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-808628134057039702.post-16409915900323858402024-01-28T07:43:00.000-08:002024-01-28T08:00:01.098-08:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqxe3Z965klLXcIvPzhOYxhMaW0ToQC3tavA9ep4Y0Rxcc50YgBR5fdfwA8-H_XSqgYlL2ujii0OebqzytIQUUTu7MEw8Mj_qfrSQIb7ZxdzMzcJWUOmOCmBYJGwWC7QZX4F-GcMmw4nBGpT95RGpEgCcwg8vYCyNFKvz_sU4yVLbz65lD4n3Ke_cP/s3715/CB504236-45ED-4211-8CF0-3061EB8EF484_1_201_a.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3715" data-original-width="2786" height="449" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqxe3Z965klLXcIvPzhOYxhMaW0ToQC3tavA9ep4Y0Rxcc50YgBR5fdfwA8-H_XSqgYlL2ujii0OebqzytIQUUTu7MEw8Mj_qfrSQIb7ZxdzMzcJWUOmOCmBYJGwWC7QZX4F-GcMmw4nBGpT95RGpEgCcwg8vYCyNFKvz_sU4yVLbz65lD4n3Ke_cP/w336-h449/CB504236-45ED-4211-8CF0-3061EB8EF484_1_201_a.jpeg" width="336" /></a></div><br /> A Weird True Story:<p></p><p>We flew to Seville, Spain for just a few days. We rented a car from a place that looked professional online but then when we got there we had to wait on a gritty street corner. A girl picked us up and drove us to the middle of nowhere. She entered a small hut walked behind a desk and became an office person. She asked a few questions (I had already paid online) and then walked around the cluttered desk again and handed us keys to a black car that was parked right outside the hut. We drove out of the middle of nowhere by ourselves and headed a couple hours to the east. When we arrived at the hotel Sawyer said "this place smells just like Aunt Mary's house". He didn't realize we were at the ocean because it was so dark out and it was the sea air he was smelling. This made me happy for some reason. Anyhow we had some scheduled things to do and soon enough we repeated the process to return the car only backwards version with the same girl. That's not the weird part of this trip, keep reading if you can. When we got home someone I speak to only occasionally said she received a box of Seville oranges. And I literally just walked in the door from there and saw a hundred orange trees. But when I said that it felt like not the truth because being back at home so fast it felt like a dream like I didn't really feel the warm sun on my face and see orange trees. Luckily I did buy a tiny little corked crock of Ibiza salt because we only had tiny baggage to fly with, so I had proof in my hand. And that's my story, I saw Seville oranges on the trees and then within two hours of being home someone that had no idea I was there randomly said how excited she was with her Seville oranges. That's the weird part, but weird in a good way I think.</p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Freckled Henhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13214921876047156786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-808628134057039702.post-90760440868665813832024-01-03T05:42:00.000-08:002024-01-03T06:00:34.805-08:00all the thinks to think<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKmPCwGvu5AbRMXPeFvPhN_R000dIOQZWYmFGWySUXwxQ0RKJsRUBm3VJukPViSLxCZtSZ-AGQChzPC5qxcuHAQg2vT-70EIhxfN8F6oFOrugnpZkBsiBoF3MhNsmX6GSQA629pCUtzv6YkKRJxpoqS2GWf7d0sXayNp7fR1SM29BYY-z5qHQlJuxr/s4032/D88632F9-31F6-452B-A312-5CA3B129D33B.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKmPCwGvu5AbRMXPeFvPhN_R000dIOQZWYmFGWySUXwxQ0RKJsRUBm3VJukPViSLxCZtSZ-AGQChzPC5qxcuHAQg2vT-70EIhxfN8F6oFOrugnpZkBsiBoF3MhNsmX6GSQA629pCUtzv6YkKRJxpoqS2GWf7d0sXayNp7fR1SM29BYY-z5qHQlJuxr/s320/D88632F9-31F6-452B-A312-5CA3B129D33B.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK_v3i2O2_gjji9uQzy1z7xy2zImbzSgN6Vgu1J1j1Sap5y4kX47AqTdMKSFE2ZtAgoE1Hv-6fDEr7ExlrJU-2j-lDyEhIgE20VIkz0vHiiQyViqgq89Sl-j5xJUoDk_2JWw7dQM7LwMMaVB50T88QbEHFbYc46J4I32ExjA96rb-ikDw9TnhYYH2u/s4032/E712D191-A014-44CE-8852-5683892A43DA.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK_v3i2O2_gjji9uQzy1z7xy2zImbzSgN6Vgu1J1j1Sap5y4kX47AqTdMKSFE2ZtAgoE1Hv-6fDEr7ExlrJU-2j-lDyEhIgE20VIkz0vHiiQyViqgq89Sl-j5xJUoDk_2JWw7dQM7LwMMaVB50T88QbEHFbYc46J4I32ExjA96rb-ikDw9TnhYYH2u/s320/E712D191-A014-44CE-8852-5683892A43DA.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbozhcsxIoNl3Ry0xR-YjKq70PK7-_-JjiaBDvGHcZ-AG8kFBNOAUIxJZboZpy4tfjWITbniwmx5Af3baI5H5r5ljcmNaeDYQgkQJta39IPyyIZES1qYl7Qtdm-akQ2IdsSJkF2cEs485HbX1aiEKmpzEy-MULF5hl0ONNC01iZj9MSxTI-C1gmBE5/s4032/8A2071A7-CE78-488C-92F0-F317E166DFD5.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbozhcsxIoNl3Ry0xR-YjKq70PK7-_-JjiaBDvGHcZ-AG8kFBNOAUIxJZboZpy4tfjWITbniwmx5Af3baI5H5r5ljcmNaeDYQgkQJta39IPyyIZES1qYl7Qtdm-akQ2IdsSJkF2cEs485HbX1aiEKmpzEy-MULF5hl0ONNC01iZj9MSxTI-C1gmBE5/s320/8A2071A7-CE78-488C-92F0-F317E166DFD5.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWyRi11j5CgngtWOzbxyxKph7g8ezkPt6mbFNAIkdgH7UdFHIJvl2AjEpWzUIdHjUWZZ0pY4efj0EdhO99u_E6O3hjDjaWX6Hmv-W8hMTTu6FFHgZMTM3BruBABHi4LVZ6d-iXOG3fbCpjKjjc_pFuXj37_FFP5qGWXYhYTfzBkdIdiqgNkyjLRsm5/s4032/5639F1A7-9EE4-4CF7-8540-DD59789A135B.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWyRi11j5CgngtWOzbxyxKph7g8ezkPt6mbFNAIkdgH7UdFHIJvl2AjEpWzUIdHjUWZZ0pY4efj0EdhO99u_E6O3hjDjaWX6Hmv-W8hMTTu6FFHgZMTM3BruBABHi4LVZ6d-iXOG3fbCpjKjjc_pFuXj37_FFP5qGWXYhYTfzBkdIdiqgNkyjLRsm5/s320/5639F1A7-9EE4-4CF7-8540-DD59789A135B.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When my son was young he said taste buds change every seven years. I think he was right, but I also think this can be applied to your life in many other ways. There are things in my middle aged life I like very much that I would have never chosen in my young adult life. The older I get the more fascinating I find things. People, places, things...all of it. I wish my mind was as open to new things when I was my younger self. The world was so big to me then, a little scary I think. I wanted steadfastness where I could find it. Childhood was chaotic and free falling. The way this affected me was to grow up very fast, creating routines that most people don't find themselves doing until they are old. I liked what I liked and didn't like what I didn't like, There was no room to consider otherwise. I wanted peace of mind, and still do. We all do, don't we?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Living in Europe gives me different feelings than living in the US. My vulnerabilities are different. I feel less judged here as a human. It's a given that people are people, that we don't have to think alike, look alike, that individually we are okay until proven differently. We matter no matter. It's a nice thing to live this way when you are a human. At the same time it can be hard as you have to speak up and make inquiries. I have heard a few times when I've said "I have no idea" about something it's because I didn't ask. They smile and say, "Oh, that's because you didn't ask." Asking the right questions to the right people is an art, and we all know Europeans are so talented when it comes to art. My brain is gaining new pathways to navigate life.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Spending many years in the depths of motherhood raising six kids, I am learning about the growth of a person from the stage of an inquisitive baby to an existential teen so close to the cusp of adulthood it is almost painful to watch. Then a beautiful thing, seeing your adult child and the floodgates of love and appreciation run so deep it's immeasurable. For so many years I've watched kids at all the various stages of their lives learning how to be independent. I even watched taste buds change. During all this I couldn't see myself, even in the mirror. I don't think this is true for most people and truthfully it's only been recently that I've realized this is unique. The last few years I've actually seen myself in the mirror. All of me, the rather large nose, the uneven freckles, the profile of a woman with slightly hunched shoulders and if I dare be proud: skinny legs. And even more than that I no longer ignore those eyes that stare back at me knowing all my details, so plain and unobstructed. Some really painful stuff from the past that was never buried but also never spoken about. Those eyes always knew that there would be a time and a place to find that peace, they didn't need to carry the heaviness. And here I am. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I don't think it's a midlife crisis or menopause, nor an awakening like books describe. I think simply, I looked up. The emotions I was carrying around in such heavy bags were physically making me ill. I couldn't smile and offer to make another cake, or do another favor, or gloss over so many life details. I looked up and recognized a person that wanted to belong, to feel safe, to feel wanted. That wanted to wake and go to sleep without feeling at fault for something. I can vouch each child is born with different traits. It's up to the parents to admire those and teach around them, through them, in the most lovingly way. It has been my favorite part of life to do this as a mother. Maybe not always in the right ways, but even trying was fun. Loving is my favorite. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I don't have anger that my traits were out there blowing in the most vulnerable winds. It would hit as a raw emotion when I'd see my child do something so precious and beautiful and realize no one noted those things in my life. It became a sadness I wanted no part of recognizing, so I'd put it in a box alongside all the other boxes. I'm really organized with storing things! Then officially I paid people to help me learn about myself. My intuitions were right: I am unique. But guess what, so are you. I am a person wandering around life just like all the other people. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It's the New Year and I do enjoy seeing and reading the renewal people are holding themselves to. A healthy outlook is a positive. My own healthy outlook isn't the old days of exercising more. It's being more natural with who I am. Finding love, forgiveness and gratitude in my life each day. This reminds me to say thank you for reading this rambling of words. All my best to you and yours.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><br /><br /><br /> <p></p>Freckled Henhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13214921876047156786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-808628134057039702.post-45954190303448549302023-08-27T11:33:00.001-07:002023-08-27T11:43:00.071-07:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho5tMQr2oFi0efgUrHqeol_7qAsE0pWU6Jw2YoUgK07CrSBd0jNHPffWy8Us6DJcT0hz3E8UKgoi_9NEHyK4DrwI_6NYyH7JJ3Hwl2WlwMrhy2k5Q1DyEtOyYm6BHr_tKYNl1n2UmX3pg6GSdQDYBqwCdi7oJVEU1u5YhTTXBJVDXX2j1llJtu_PoF/s541/A58E15E0-D981-4C3F-9805-297F2F0031BA_1_201_a.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="541" data-original-width="422" height="408" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho5tMQr2oFi0efgUrHqeol_7qAsE0pWU6Jw2YoUgK07CrSBd0jNHPffWy8Us6DJcT0hz3E8UKgoi_9NEHyK4DrwI_6NYyH7JJ3Hwl2WlwMrhy2k5Q1DyEtOyYm6BHr_tKYNl1n2UmX3pg6GSdQDYBqwCdi7oJVEU1u5YhTTXBJVDXX2j1llJtu_PoF/w319-h408/A58E15E0-D981-4C3F-9805-297F2F0031BA_1_201_a.jpeg" width="319" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Yesterday my daughter and her husband drove a few miles from their house. They waved bye to their kids and their dogs and Marc's mom and dad who are visiting. Then they got checked into their little hospital and Maggie birthed a baby. A beautiful baby girl. Backing up my story to just before they drove a few miles from their house, Maggie and I were video chatting. She had just woken up from a nap and I mentally noted to myself that she resembled the Maggie that was four or five years old and woken from a nap. That was many moons ago (though it seems like yesterday) But she sat up and felt weird and looked dumfounded. She broke her water, slowly at first and she was confused. Neither of us knew what was happening. Well, yes, we knew she was pregnant and due any day (oh boy that would really be a story if she didn't know) She was asking me if this could indeed be the time, and this is a legitimate question as I am her mother and indeed I have birthed six kids myself. She was asking in the manner that can only be written as COULD THIS BE IT??????? But I really didn't know. The only time I broke my water it happened like POP, like it literally made a very loud noise. Just imagine what that noise would sound like in an exaggerated way and that is definitely what it sounded like, and then a huge waterfall followed. But Maggie had neither the noise or waterfall so I told her to walk a bit and lo and behold just a few steps and yup, she broke her water. We both laughed and weren't sure how to say bye and good luck and love you, really how do you do that? Especially because a few years ago when her first two children were born I lived 10 miles away and could say see you there. We now live 3451 miles apart. That is not an exaggeration at all, and when your child is having a baby it seems even farther than that number. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The picture here is from my walk after Maggie had her baby, I felt so grateful. It had been a rainy, stormy day (Maggie's favorite) and the sun tried to filter through, it was so pretty. My heart is so full even still. The world is big yes, but also small when your grandchild is born far away and you already love her so much. She is one day old but I already know her deep in my heart. She will have a natural smile and be happy with who she is. She has two older siblings that figured things out for her already so she will have a real <b style="font-style: italic;">vivre la vie </b>type of personality. Which is fitting with her beautiful french name...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">Clèmentine Lorraine</span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMyXIxejEPGZ9R1fzzhf5YY2ALtFtFNOFVCjAzLXezGepDNNdzXKNZm-Ujy01DuMvGRjPqji3aQY7XTPHTV7_LGwWKV7QEx1jQbCqfwBvT26KO-e_3IujdWqcWCMIZwmzumNlK1Zhm_LgDc4ZjEw9AG-QlO6xSGEaOpXwbz-aD0_Udfom1DSyn-t6F/s4032/4C033F3A-B48A-4E59-8297-34FE4F420196.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="516" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMyXIxejEPGZ9R1fzzhf5YY2ALtFtFNOFVCjAzLXezGepDNNdzXKNZm-Ujy01DuMvGRjPqji3aQY7XTPHTV7_LGwWKV7QEx1jQbCqfwBvT26KO-e_3IujdWqcWCMIZwmzumNlK1Zhm_LgDc4ZjEw9AG-QlO6xSGEaOpXwbz-aD0_Udfom1DSyn-t6F/w387-h516/4C033F3A-B48A-4E59-8297-34FE4F420196.jpeg" width="387" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></i></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /> <p></p>Freckled Henhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13214921876047156786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-808628134057039702.post-35364971476990074582023-08-25T02:34:00.002-07:002023-08-25T02:34:36.365-07:00<p> School has started. They packed their supplies and climbed aboard the dutch bus. It felt weird like it's not really time. I wanted to say haha and let them stay home. But I stood awkwardly and waved with that feeling of laughing or crying, I'm not sure which. Some other random kids also waved back which I thought was a very sweet thing to do. This is my favorite time of year, mostly because of school supplies. who doesn't like the thrill of sharpened pencils and white cap erasers? The air is crisp and the start of school kind of makes me feel refreshed. I miss my kids now that they are physically in a school but I guess it just feels optimistic? New classes, new friends, new goals. Henry is grade 11 and Sawyer grade 6, their school is an international one, lots of kids from all over the world, and yes, they are taught in english.<br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUYeIiwsksffxgYP6lnY1PnivL0Bo2QydtEUXUfVKrxvO2vdwEIK8Rt68AVmRai7KfC-iTjbemgf956I6HE0k68suOnvCyazw4dl0LsxGRK1P_MpYfR5dMxIcCw_R7JApNZoOdxZcyBzbrJnt4qhssb3GbZiM_2yDhz-vdN5Zk5jQ-ky9VrdvY_8zg/s4032/AC58D376-FF7A-4002-81FC-21070BDED862.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="481" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUYeIiwsksffxgYP6lnY1PnivL0Bo2QydtEUXUfVKrxvO2vdwEIK8Rt68AVmRai7KfC-iTjbemgf956I6HE0k68suOnvCyazw4dl0LsxGRK1P_MpYfR5dMxIcCw_R7JApNZoOdxZcyBzbrJnt4qhssb3GbZiM_2yDhz-vdN5Zk5jQ-ky9VrdvY_8zg/w353-h481/AC58D376-FF7A-4002-81FC-21070BDED862.jpeg" width="353" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The boys grew this summer and I didn't even notice during any of the summer days, not until they let me take a picture. It is noted now in my brain, the summer they grew up.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4ae5nALeGIxg1x3jcl9mb3BSYstz6Du1PMsyeTORuKpzDGQELOIVAhy-d5bHw6Cu_JcWz-utqrENZZriZRmBFVVDuluKDbZssnRbS2I_vofUosQc4h3DoGKv5uHuVpRbG7ZtU5_LTb7yA3oqOCbglOZXFe4Pd8yrCkKUDR_OOHVoG_SCr9sxzBZGP/s4032/95E7DA68-66E9-4374-816B-B3788CD4584E.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="357" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4ae5nALeGIxg1x3jcl9mb3BSYstz6Du1PMsyeTORuKpzDGQELOIVAhy-d5bHw6Cu_JcWz-utqrENZZriZRmBFVVDuluKDbZssnRbS2I_vofUosQc4h3DoGKv5uHuVpRbG7ZtU5_LTb7yA3oqOCbglOZXFe4Pd8yrCkKUDR_OOHVoG_SCr9sxzBZGP/w299-h357/95E7DA68-66E9-4374-816B-B3788CD4584E.jpeg" width="299" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Today has been full of storms, the house is so dark. I cleaned then cut out a few patterns while watching Little House. Mary wanted to get married at age 13, seems so ridiculous to imagine that ever happened. My great grandmother got married at 16. Her name was Daisy. She was born in 1890 and while I lived with my grandparents Daisy came to live with us. She was so old to me at age 96. I was 13 and wish I was mature enough to have asked her about her life. Anyhow, Mary didn't get married in the end (shocking) but was so sad to watch her love chuggity chug away on a train.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfP-SIp8IQiYKb31i6Q-Hu8EjTO7Oh85v3EpPxatcedIprN99y5AfoWaR28xC_AVrgB90sSmzFnNUt2QgqCH_afWHpHSZCmVpoPzC_PKJMxSyqPw93bUTYSWBs0uiyJ24YukppJbB9LpOvp4LacUYPf_ypKbrjIwpCWr-Sm9e_zZjk5RwxfEnbv4Su/s4032/5AA193D7-67F2-4E51-A005-C4DAB01742F8.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfP-SIp8IQiYKb31i6Q-Hu8EjTO7Oh85v3EpPxatcedIprN99y5AfoWaR28xC_AVrgB90sSmzFnNUt2QgqCH_afWHpHSZCmVpoPzC_PKJMxSyqPw93bUTYSWBs0uiyJ24YukppJbB9LpOvp4LacUYPf_ypKbrjIwpCWr-Sm9e_zZjk5RwxfEnbv4Su/s320/5AA193D7-67F2-4E51-A005-C4DAB01742F8.jpeg" width="240" /></a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Our backyard is rather large considering where we live, it's nice to have greenspace to look out on. The neighbors have domesticated deer and they frolic and run so fast around. I love watching them.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZspWaRpuUSI1Bu8XxWclzYm6A0ImACUzwnRJHHQsOOwdIQvXWmB8orilCxuLPpYqFyC9edIKcfKFP3p3-ImTRl-lmBY9nGH-x7WAjh_G30G2sndQZn6WDiKuOTs7y9g6j0FhVCxfhVROQg_PrJnsZI1GiJgkijGLZV13AOG2jSCyF3U08sRvwqVQG/s4032/F132863B-2EB1-4A69-B099-CED001548B96.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZspWaRpuUSI1Bu8XxWclzYm6A0ImACUzwnRJHHQsOOwdIQvXWmB8orilCxuLPpYqFyC9edIKcfKFP3p3-ImTRl-lmBY9nGH-x7WAjh_G30G2sndQZn6WDiKuOTs7y9g6j0FhVCxfhVROQg_PrJnsZI1GiJgkijGLZV13AOG2jSCyF3U08sRvwqVQG/s320/F132863B-2EB1-4A69-B099-CED001548B96.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p>Freckled Henhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13214921876047156786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-808628134057039702.post-4025089401975506652023-03-21T06:23:00.002-07:002023-03-21T07:00:18.525-07:00Abrupt<p> After three years I'm pretty rusty, both with blogging and with age. Things are very different from the last time I wrote on here. We sold our house and did a 180 with our lives. Maybe it was the pandemic or maybe it was just life. Anyhow, we moved across the sea back to the Netherlands. It was a difficult decision. Hindsight will only tell us if it was a good one, needless to say the perks are obvious with the youngest two kids attending a school unlike anything they've experienced, the endless history and travel and most importantly: the cheese. With family coming and going our time together has highlighted the phrase quality time. </p><p>All my words these last few years have been ink to paper. My mind has had an outpouring of thoughts, observations, opinions, frustrations, and now strangely a degree of calmness. These new routines of the last six months are a comfort. They feel nice and the boys seem to be thriving. We were stuck with few options of a change that we were willing to climb aboard with. So we did the extreme. And yes not living near our adult kids and grandkids has been the hardest thing to not let sink my ship, so to speak. It's a physical pain that bubbles up to boiling from a simmer with just a slight trigger of a memory or holiday. (Insert extremely long, exhaling sigh here.)</p><p>Today is half over and it's just a regular old day. Boys at school, husband at work, third load of laundry spinning in the world's smallest washing machine. I road my bike in the sprinkling rain to get schnitzel for supper and came back with some flowers to arrange. I pulled out all my half finished sewing projects and thought I was filled with determination when I glanced at my morning list of things that really can't wait one more day. So I did them and for some reason that inspired me to log in here so I can start writing again about the everyday of this new location and all the trials and rejoices of new language and customs and how my dorkiness knows no borders. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi82MIo6aaaeQ3q14ipxy6IuFBiciCd0KG8utyHXGeWfv_Fh1eZRTsY5Et_lZB5JLfjvFEd_GwOr6Khow-5iqze8E3uTNOd85UBYRfc2oDgVKQFfM-kLY8MNnZYRgDEI5PGuaVKztj5eTBMkArgd9vu1XXaxxFBNRjAPif3scSlBxQYvTvbALmLzw/s3840/94909ACF-789D-4584-939F-EC6AF51FA28C_1_201_a.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2880" data-original-width="3840" height="498" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi82MIo6aaaeQ3q14ipxy6IuFBiciCd0KG8utyHXGeWfv_Fh1eZRTsY5Et_lZB5JLfjvFEd_GwOr6Khow-5iqze8E3uTNOd85UBYRfc2oDgVKQFfM-kLY8MNnZYRgDEI5PGuaVKztj5eTBMkArgd9vu1XXaxxFBNRjAPif3scSlBxQYvTvbALmLzw/w688-h498/94909ACF-789D-4584-939F-EC6AF51FA28C_1_201_a.jpeg" width="688" /></a></div><p></p><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p>Freckled Henhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13214921876047156786noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-808628134057039702.post-91407027090735334772020-04-05T19:50:00.000-07:002020-04-05T19:50:49.946-07:00the days<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQcyO4c9E2SKxYJg7TAgtHQeb3rPZ58wf3Zv8PHlZviy6wQ3-9wijqq8hHrpUQzo7tEoVQ73CHU9RbKwvC7PhEJnFt129kEsIZyJD-wMh4xJMMzdQzasSIkMH9063VsW7sR4nkC5cp6w/s1600/IMG_0014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a>
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It seems like another lifetime when I would walk outside and look at the flower gardens. I am anticipating doing that so very much. The whole world has gone askew. It doesn't feel level and because of that even a short walk takes so much energy. My prayers have been so emotional and full lately. It is my one true comfort....to pray. I can be in any room of the house, wearing any half pajama type outfit, doing any menial task and I feel overcome to pray. I used to feel guilty to heartily pray in my hour of need, why didn't I pray that way when my life was chugging along just fine? I've tried to be better at that- hearty prayers of gratitude because truly I am grateful for so much, much more than I am distraught about. That saying about how it's the simple things in life really resonates now. I hope I don't take for granted the noise my daughter's car makes when she drives in the yard and I hear the side door bang shut and my little granddaughter squeal with excitement as she comes in the mudroom waiting for her gaggle of aunts and uncles to welcome her. </div>
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We all have so much emotional weight to carry lately. Everything about our routines has been affected. It's hard to imagine life returning to how it was. I hope we all come out of it more appreciative. The lessons I learned growing up with my grandparents (who would be over 100 years old now) make so much more sense. They did things because they made sense, to be efficient, to be wise, because of the appreciation they learned along the way. It became inherent to not waste, but as time went on and generations replaced theirs we became entitled. It became too easy to complain about nonsense. These are my feelings and I recognize not everyone feels this way. </div>
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Change is hard. Fear is even harder. But in the end nothing feels impossible, we can climb this mountain. Optimism has a pilot light that is willing to grow into a flame to light our way if we let it.</div>
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Freckled Henhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13214921876047156786noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-808628134057039702.post-67346032204671730612019-11-22T11:38:00.000-08:002019-11-22T11:38:13.086-08:00all mineWe had a rare day when all the kids were home. We sat around our ever growing dining table and celebrated a couple birthdays. It was fulfilling in the most ordinary way. Though too much time passes between each get together I love how the kids just pick up right where they left off during their adolescent years. It makes my heart warm to hear their laughter and snide comments. They recount stories that I never knew happened under my watch. Where was I? Maybe folding 5 loads of laundry???? While the older kids have achieved celebrity status with their younger siblings, it is interesting to watch the younger ones interact with their adult siblings. What they choose to share with them will always be a fascination to me.<br />
We decided to attempt a picture with everyone, husbands and kids and the grandbaby. Then a few with all six kids together. It is nice for the younger ones to see themselves in the line up, kind of like where they stand in this family. Of course the pictures didn't really come out. It's hard with so many people, it is never possible to have everyone not blink at the same time the camera clicks. In this case these quick pictures I took as they were trying to line up are just as wonderful to me as if they were all standing perfect. I love their love for each other. I love their craziness, their jokes, their happiness, their fierce determination. My cup overflows.<br />
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<br />Freckled Henhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13214921876047156786noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-808628134057039702.post-35492881486382161362019-09-23T11:21:00.003-07:002019-09-23T11:23:49.307-07:00of sunrises<br />
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When I began writing this blog all those years ago I was reckless with my thoughts and couldn't seem to focus on what to share. I feared sharing too much and yet it felt empty to share too little. I never really did settle on a theme or even a direction and just hit "publish" when I had the time to write or share anything. I'm grateful I did that as those were some busy years for me and to scroll back and read through those days makes me appreciate them, most of those regular days I fear I wouldn't have retained all those bits and pieces about. Since the first post I have shared so much growing....both the physical growth of my children and the growth of me as a person. The latter was unintentional, but to see my family and myself through the eyes of who might be reading my words helped me to stop being so self deprecating. To read your comments on days when I needed a boost was so rewarding. Thank you for that, wherever you are. <span style="text-align: center;">All those years ago there were five children, now there are six. They were all shorter than me, now only one is. Two are married. And now the sweetest of sweet things: a grandchild. A darling little girl that sends me to the moon with love. </span></div>
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Freckled Henhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13214921876047156786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-808628134057039702.post-48313609374270478442019-09-10T12:42:00.000-07:002019-09-10T12:42:41.379-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We went on a trip this summer to watch our daughter get married in France. It was so lovely and my heart is full of happy wedding memories. It has been a while since we have been to Europe and though I was very excited to return I felt more nervous to travel than I ever have. There wasn't a reason in particular just overall jitters at disrupting my daily routines at home that my mind conveniently mistakes routine for comfort. Yes, I like routines but it is a very nice thing to step away from them for a time, and equally to return to them with vigor and appreciation. But why is it so hard to convince oneself of this before the trip?<br />
We decided a trip to France could also include some traveling to places we wanted to bring our younger three kids to, as their older siblings have many memories of living overseas and these little guys have really only experienced New England. It was a lot of traveling and driving and walking and flying. But there was so much to see! <br />
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<br />Freckled Henhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13214921876047156786noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-808628134057039702.post-51742218752885516412017-07-26T15:25:00.000-07:002019-09-10T12:46:25.306-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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There are so any favorite things to be listed! A rainbow after a summer storm? Yes. For sure!<br />
Johnny-jump-ups that keep reseeding and staying in bloom...very much, please and thank you.<br />
We have some renovating going on with our old home and the light is beginning to shine. The mess is telling me "see, I told you it would be worth it." And humbly I say thank you as I eternally shop-vac up the saw dust.<br />
I hope your summer days are ticking along with happiness and an ice cream cone or two.Freckled Henhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13214921876047156786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-808628134057039702.post-88194085364720962822017-04-03T13:45:00.000-07:002017-04-03T13:46:09.037-07:00exponential capacity<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Oh dear. Look at that boy holding his stuffed chicken while his dad holds a duck. Another memory to store away in that special place in my heart. Freckled Henhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13214921876047156786noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-808628134057039702.post-66238938402230374992017-03-23T14:33:00.001-07:002017-03-23T14:33:31.934-07:00a tea time check inI have been missing my blog lately. So today I am here. Everything is busy in life and my children are growing as much as ever. I miss the timeline of looking back and reading those silly posts when I wrote about the simplest of days. Can I squeeze my blog in my daily list of priorities? I don't know but hopefully this can-do attitude will stick around and I will sneak in some posting time here and there.<br />
It's been a long winter, but we have had no trouble filling these cold days up with our busy schedules. It's time to take a step back while we await the arrival of spring and readjust. I like adjustments, they usually make everything even better than it was to begin with. <br />
Just to make sure it is still winter at the shoreline we occasionally pop in and walk until the whipping wind hurries us away. <br />
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Snow at the ocean seems like such a travesty, doesn't it? It is surely the thing that doesn't belong in that preschool game of What Doesn't Belong Here.</div>
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So with some positive thoughts I will be back to visit soon. Cheers to you and yours!</div>
<br />Freckled Henhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13214921876047156786noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-808628134057039702.post-50978405141937197152016-10-22T07:09:00.002-07:002016-10-22T07:09:11.626-07:00It's the Fall<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Our Saturday walks are incomparable. Henry brings a sketchbook and I collect leaves and acorns.<br />
The kids are getting so big, only three are left at home and I can't seem to stop making giant meals and do a double take each time the laundry is caught up. <br />
Today is gray and cloudy and the kitchen is calling me for some baking. A slow kind of Saturday, which is the best of all the kinds.<br />
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<br />Freckled Henhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13214921876047156786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-808628134057039702.post-11829600815264251592016-08-14T18:28:00.000-07:002016-08-14T18:28:11.690-07:00during the warm weather<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It is almost as though the apprehension of the heat has fired up something within me. Dragging my children all over, we won't waste a summer day! I finally realized two days ago that it was very hot. I kind of forgot to complain about the heat, but I think there is still time as it's only mid-August.<br />
We went into the city on the train. It has been a very long time since we walked around nyc. Our three youngest had never been, I think they were shocked at the amount of people there and truthfully so was I. So many crowds, so many smells (bad lol) and our youngest came so close to stepping in a giant poo on the sidewalk. Oye. I was watching him in slow motion and did a running grab to sweep him off his feet. Three cheers for mom! It was all a little overwhelming, I have streamlined my family life so much, it is efficient and organized and chop chop we get where we need to go. The city was too chaotic, I felt tired of it. So yes, I guess I will toss my dreams of being a stock broker or a dancer in the NY Ballet. Kind of like the board game Life...I will retire to the country now, plz.<br />
I guess I am trying to procrastinate my children going back to school, the school routines make me a crazy mess. I like having them here {usually}. It's like we just got a good thing going at home...why do we have to mess it up with<i> school</i>? Oh, bother.Freckled Henhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13214921876047156786noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-808628134057039702.post-6756129424117748772016-08-04T09:25:00.001-07:002016-08-04T09:25:45.132-07:00ye olde stuff<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It is enough for me to collect things and later resell them, just having them pass through my hands for a bit. Less often lately do I feel the need to own something. I do enjoy repurposing an item or cleaning it up and making it worthy of ownership again. It's funny to me as I overhear my kids claiming items as their own, it is so important to them and I know I was the same way growing up in a large family. I guess we are lucky as rarely do we have to live without, maybe if used books and household items weren't so readily available we would all cling to the stuff we have. As a hobby business we have several auctions a year, we will occasionally buy out an estate. I think this is what is helping me realize stuff is just stuff. One can look at it, buy it, and own it...but it becomes a problem when the stuff owns you. Use your fine china! Use your linens! Use your things! What if you grew blue ribbon vegetables in the garden but didn't eat them because they were too pretty?<br />
Just a few thoughts on Thursday :)Freckled Henhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13214921876047156786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-808628134057039702.post-8368345040134290172016-07-24T15:15:00.002-07:002016-07-24T15:15:41.078-07:00inside the garden fence<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The garden is growing at a steady pace. Though it has been a dry summer the constant watering (ackkk the watering) and the humidity have created some sizable plants. We are about to bust open with tomatoes as the plants are heavy with fruit but are taking painstaking time to turn red. It's a slow crawl to harvest then boom it happens and then summer quickly winds down. I'm trying to be careful what I wish for as I am enjoying these summer days and am in no hurry for a change.</div>
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This year we tried potato boxes, as the plants grow in height, wood and soil are added. Little did I know the plants would grow so fast, I am behind the adding wood and soil part. After 50-60 days of growth the bottom boards are removed and potatoes are dug out. As time passes more boards are removed and more potatoes dug out. I'm still not sure about this system but if it is successful I'll probably talk about it again in the future. We have a short growing season this far north, I imagine this system would be great a couple zones to the south. <br />
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The zucchini and summer squash are making up for last year when I got two measly zucchinis. We eat a lot of these and it was painful last year to have to buy them after I had hauled a zillion gallons of water. Sweet victory this year in the form of zucchini breads and cakes :)<br />
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Sweet corn is hard to grow here, but oh the rewards of a fresh piece of corn! Though it is definitely easier to get some from the farm stand there are few more satisfying garden fares than picking your own corn and steaming it for dinner.<br />
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To save space we are using a couple large triangular frames. The lower one for cucumbers to grow atop while beets and radishes grow beneath. The taller one is for green beans to climb while kale, spinach and swiss chard grow underneath.</div>
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Clover and Mabel grew so fast out of their brooder. I am hoping they think I am their mother, they are still so fun to hold and cuddle. Their quacks are still babyish soft squeaks. Unlike the loud QUACKS their parents do. Their dad Frank below is so loud and always following me to see what I am doing then has to announce it to the whole neighborhood. </div>
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Outside the garden fence we are having a banner year for wild raspberries. Every chore outside calls for a break along the property edges eating berries. </div>
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The youngest is officially too big for me to ride my bike with. I imagine the trips my husband takes with him are numbered as well. It is so hard to see your baby grow up!</div>
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The flower beds are hanging in there. The japanese beetles have liked my zinnias this year, and the delphiniums were short lived. I am hoping for a speedy recovery as I can't imagine August without cutting zinnias for the house. Fingers crossed...<br />
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Thanks for visiting my garden!</div>
<br />Freckled Henhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13214921876047156786noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-808628134057039702.post-71737598859236515632016-07-15T09:17:00.000-07:002016-07-15T11:33:16.343-07:00steadfastOccasionally I stumble upon a vignette and my mind takes a photograph. I want those photos to stay in my heart forever (and a day). I love it when my kids are being kids, when nature abounds in all its glory, or even when I see the chippy picket fence down the street. Usually my camera isn't in hand or I hesitate too long to run and grab it, but as hard as it feels sometimes, I am learning to appreciate the moment. We snap so many photos within our lives, no more precious film to waste to help us determine if the picture is actually worth it. Everything is a picture now! When I upload pictures it is hard to even delete the outtakes, sometimes even years later they are greatly appreciated.<br />
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I remember seeing this picture and thinking "Oh Henry..." (That really is a worn out phrase around here.) I didn't even doubt that one is one for the cutting room floor. Luckily I kept it and can hopefully save it for his wedding :)<br />
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I print some pictures, but gone are the days when I carefully wrote the location and date on each one and put it in an album. Now here I am in 2016 with an occasional printed picture and thousands sitting in hard drives, memory cards, back up websites. But my favorite will always be the pictures in my heart. Hope you are making summer memories today.Freckled Henhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13214921876047156786noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-808628134057039702.post-44616185021016774262016-07-01T16:57:00.000-07:002016-07-01T17:31:50.072-07:00In June<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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In June we finished school with a cheer and a smile. We clipped as many peonies as we could and brought them in the house. Some of us ran races and played in baseball games, and some of us watched. We all planted things and pulled weeds and hauled watering cans. We went to book sales and book stores and the library. We read quietly and we read out loud. We stacked books on our nightstands, we read at breakfast and sometimes we even offered to share the hammock to read outside. This is when I realize the stress of the school year has worn off and my kids become carefree friends again. One of our older hens once again graciously sat on someone else eggs for 28 days, only this time they were from a duck...she doesn't realize they aren't chicks and the ducklings don't realize she isn't a duck. Four of us went to swim lessons every morning. Every. Morning. We went to see big brother working at the golf course and rode golf carts for a couple hours taking in all the views of the mountain. We went to Vermont to see the biggest sister's house. This is where the youngest child asked me who is the mother of the oldest child. I am you silly goose! We were entertained by the best magic show yet. We went to parties and ate yummy foods. We stayed up late to see the full moon and catch fireflies in our pjs. We had ice cream two days in a row. We woke early and swam in the sea, sigh. Each day of June we filled with prayers of hope and gratitude. We watched the days unfold and then we watched them fade away into the dark of night.</div>
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<br />Freckled Henhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13214921876047156786noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-808628134057039702.post-68892435102705399462016-06-05T16:02:00.002-07:002016-06-05T16:02:15.744-07:00green and gray and blue<br />
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I love the ocean during the day but I especially love it during the early morning hours when the sun is barely rising and the air is gray and sleepy. I selfishly feel like it belongs to me during that short window of time--the quiet right before the lobster boats chug out of the harbor and the sea gulls screech to them. Soon after that the world awakens and the quiet disappears with the morning mist. </div>
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*Happy day wishes to you and yours*</div>
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<br />Freckled Henhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13214921876047156786noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-808628134057039702.post-78950623537844420972016-05-23T12:01:00.004-07:002016-05-23T14:33:55.066-07:00every single timeOne would think after four+ decades of life the transition of winter to spring would seem a little ordinary and matter of fact. But no...oh gosh it's amazing! Every single year things grow and birds sing and it is all so beautiful. I would never feel this way if it wasn't for The Long Winter (both the actual physical thing and the book...) The winter is full of its own chore lists and I get so wound into it-- I kind of try not to think about the beach and mowing and gentle, warm breezes. If my mind is clear and focused and I am feeling grateful watching the spring emerge can make me cry. I live in a place where there are so many trees and hilly, mountainous roads. Plants pop up everywhere, everything it seems has a flower- even if it's just for a moment. There is green everywhere. Light green, dark green, pine green, yellow-green, emerald, olive, and 100 more. People announce their appreciation by putting potted pansies out, often just a small pot on the doorstep, perhaps doing their part in aiding mother nature. Or maybe it is just scratching that itch of planting and waiting for picnics and just being outdoors. Either way potted pansies are just the thing.<br />
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After driving by <a href="http://www.louisamayalcott.org/">Orchard House</a> all winter and seeing it so stark against the hillside I often have the urge to wave like its an old friend. Now it is beaming with lilacs and lily of the valley and so many pansies smiling up. I had to stop and breathe it in. Sawyer knows I love this section of road, he knows I love <a href="http://www.louisamayalcott.org/">Orchard House</a>. But I don't think he quite understands why. And do I? Neither of us question it. So sometimes we stop and I take 40 pictures and we get back in the car and go on our way.<br />
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<br />Freckled Henhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13214921876047156786noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-808628134057039702.post-87860232944601073632016-04-06T05:09:00.001-07:002016-04-06T06:20:24.865-07:00fancy free<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We have had mighty winds lately, they whistle through the corners of the house and impress us as they whip against us as we venture outside. They add drama to even a simple trip down the driveway to get the mail. Though it is still snowing occasionally I feel as though winter is through. Looks like we made it. {again}<br />
The days here have been well spent. My husband has retired and started a new job. We also started an <a href="http://www.oldironsidesauctionco.com/">auction company.</a> We recently had our third auction, each one has been a learning experience and it is most definitely exhausting but it is great fun all rolled into one. My husband has had auctioneer dreams since childhood, he went to auctioneering school 10 years ago. We merged that with our love of antiques and history and now we have a business. {boom!}<br />
This morning is sunny and the blank slate is filling up. It is a satisfying way to start the day to type a few words as the crows are crowing outside and the teapot whistles. {happy}<br />
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<br />Freckled Henhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13214921876047156786noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-808628134057039702.post-23766796443731269362016-03-28T14:32:00.001-07:002016-03-28T14:35:42.840-07:00Greetings to Spring<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The grass has the faintest hint of green peeking through. That fresh new green that seems vulnerable but gutsy enough to seek the sunlight. The spring here in New Hampshire isn't as springy as other places we have lived. In fact the last few years we have still had a substantial amount of snow on the ground in late March. To have a real, outdoor Easter egg hunt yesterday seemed like the best treat. The older kids were happy to fill the eggs with treats and hide them outside. The younger kids were thrilled to find them...and I was a happy mother watching it all. I ran behind Sawyer with a few hidden eggs in my pocket to set near him when he wasn't looking. He is still three and being the youngest of the bunch I am finding it hard to let him grow up and be as rough and tough as he wants to be. He is usually 50% mud puddle and 50% dirt pile.<br />
There is abounding good in my life, I love the cusp of spring. All the winter plans are about to be set into action. Hope you have a "spring" in your step, too.Freckled Henhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13214921876047156786noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-808628134057039702.post-25443499401898036122016-01-30T16:14:00.000-08:002016-02-01T13:23:16.708-08:00The Sugar Maple<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Nearly 200 years ago someone planted two sugar maple trees when our house was built. I can easily imagine the holes being dug and the saplings carefully placed. They knew how much and when to water, those saplings really took off and grew steadily for so many years. One tree was lost before we moved here, the stump is still visible. <br />
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The remaining tree was magnificent. It was so real to me, I fell in love with it! Like a person! It was so <i>historical</i>...witnessing all the marvels of time. I know I am not alone in this as my son Henry admits he has many tree friends. Henry is a good friend to trees and people.<br />
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So as you can see above the tree had to come down. Every bit of wind would take down a branch. It was getting dangerous, even though it had cables running within it to kind of keep it together.<br />
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I watched as they took it down. I felt some relief as I didn't realize how much I thought about it falling on the house. Time sure changes things. I wonder if someone said to the person who planted it if they thought it was too close to the house. "Oh well, we won't have to worry about that...not for like 200 years" Then they went in and had a good laugh about what it would be like in the 2000's.<br />
It's okay they laughed...at least we are smart about some things, like running water and electricity. We are lucky people to have showers built right into our houses with hot water even!<br />
<br />Freckled Henhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13214921876047156786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-808628134057039702.post-81782350709853763032015-12-24T18:27:00.000-08:002015-12-24T18:27:20.755-08:00silent nightIt isn't exactly quiet here with all the kids home. It is rather noisy and high energy, but now that the nine o'clock hour has hit and the little ones have been tucked into their beds with the visions of sugar plums (and legos) there is some warmth and magic brewing at the wonder of this night. It is such a beautiful thing to feel and be a part of. <br />
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I wish so much for everyone to have a happy, warm heart tonight. I lit a candle and gazed at the bright sky saying a thousand wishes and prayers. I feel grateful to have so many people and memories to love. Happiness to each of you wherever your little corner may be.Freckled Henhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13214921876047156786noreply@blogger.com1