Honestly

Finished hibernating

I walk back into our house, with sun-kissed skin and wind-whipped hair, and a basket overflowing with outdoor scented shirts and pants fresh off the line. That comforting old-farmhouse-wood smell has returned in our front entryway. There is green grass beginning to grow around the yard. If my windows weren't all caulked shut, I'd have every one of them wide open. Barefoot mud-splattered kids shriek as their bikes whiz down the driveway. I convinced one boy to take his training wheels off yesterday and he is proud.

It hardly seems worth mentioning this weather anymore. These oddly warm days that feel like May (or even June?) have become such a fixture that they almost feel normal. February, really, was the only month that looked and felt like winter. It's easy to endure one month. It's easy to forget that this weather is an unusual gift.

The frost is already out of the ground, and with it, a gigantic beetle that had had enough of hibernating.


I have no fear (unless spiders are involved).

Those of you who live in more... ahem, tropical climates, may not agree that this is a large beetle. It's all relative, I guess. Around here, they don't come much bigger than this. We were sufficiently impressed.

We proceeded in the way my Dad always did with me. He gets the credit for my love of small critters. Ye Olde Insect Identification Book failed to deliver what we were looking for, though. Thank goodness for The Great Internet.

It's a Large Diving Beetle, we decided. Not to be confused with the Small Diving Beetle. Yes, we measured him. With a florescent yellow ruler that didn't make it into the picture. And yes, we're pretty sure he's a boy. And these pictures look like they could use a bit more red or something, no? Oh well, I'm not gonna fix them now.



All the kids held it (even if one held it very briefly and screamed - it still counts).

We even had a bit of drama. It was swimming around in our tub (you don't let gigantic beetles swim in your tub?) until somebody pulled the plug. Luckily one of the boys was quick to snatch it out of the water, although I have my doubts that it would have fit down the drain anyway.

A lot of the bugs from my childhood ended up pinned in a display box.

Not this one.

Sister was concerned that the stinky slough wasn't a good home for him.

The boys convinced her it was okay.



It's mid-March, people. In North Dakota. I looked a year back in my blog just to remind myself of what we have. I should be close to going stir-crazy, exhausted with this frozen tundra. Instead? We're soaking up an amazing early Spring.

Spring, at last

Imagine this.

An entire week of depressing gloomy weather, with my attitude to match. I blamed the weather and my thyroid, which are both equally good excuses. Finally, after a particularly rough day, I told my husband that once our crazy monkeys were put to bed for the night, I was outta here. By myself.

He didn't argue. Perhaps he was glad to be rid of me for awhile?

But you know... the most amazing thing happened.

The clouds parted.

And the light? Like honey.

Pure sweet thick dripping golden honey.



The deep hum of spring-time life vibrates it's way into my soul. Even half-way through May, it's still a shocking change from our long stark quiet winter.

Somehow, Spring has arrived.



Out here, even if I attempt to, I never go off exploring alone.

God's creatures find me.



And the truth is, I kind of prefer it that way.

KinderGARDEN week 2

The almost-done-with-Kindergarten KinderGARDENer ran out to the old cattle corral with me. It was a special gardening date, just the two of us. We were on a mission. Would there be any un-swamp-like conditions to be found?

Fail.



But the sun was shining, and we have hope that things might dry enough to start planting later this week.

We weeded the asparagus bed.



It's barely a year old. We won't harvest any until next year.

We found the garlic looking very handsome.

Success!



I'm thrilled about this because they were given to me by a fellow gardening fanatic (which makes them immensely more exciting), and I planted them way way too late last fall.

Since our gardening took all of twenty minutes, and most of that was spent stomping through mud, we decided to go exploring. Snails, mosquito larvae, and tadpoles... Oh my!

Peace in the flood

This morning I was boiling over with sarcastic joy for Spring.

It went something like this... Scrape a two-inch thick layer of ice and snow off my car. Bundle the kids up. Drive across this extremely safe-looking section of highway to take the Kindergartner to school.



The school bus couldn't get through. From the other direction, the direction behind where I stood to take that photo. Because a gigantic car-sized pothole opened up just a bit North of the exciting waterfall you see here, only hours after I drove across that very spot yesterday.

Knowing the road was closed in that direction was weirdly nostalgic for me. Should I have warm fuzzy feelings remembering being in labor and walking across a washed-away road on planks in my quest to get to the hospital in time? Maybe yes, if the story ended well.

So this has become our Spring these last few years.

The snow melts. The water rises. The Bean has her birthday. Our roads disappear.

Not necessarily in that order.

But, you know, a funny thing happened to my day. It warmed up enough to make the snow drip off the trees.

I found beauty in my flooded backyard.



Stillness and peace.



Amid the brown there was hope of green things to come.



Spring will arrive here, after all. Eventually it has to.

We may not drive on our roads confident that the road is actually beneath us. We may not have a County that has the resources to fix things properly the first time so they don't wash out again and again, however ridiculous that may be... but Spring will come.

You Capture "Spring"

It snowed. A lot. Again.

Scavenger Hunt at Ashley's!

1. Time

There is about 2.5 seconds of time between when the Bean wakes up grumpy from her nap...



... and when she decides to "Eee Heeeeeeee!?" (see kitty)



2. Poetry

I could post a self portrait where I pretend that I have quiet moments to read.



Or I could be totally honest and get out my word magnets, and make up a fantastic little poem straight from the depths of my heart.



Really. We got another twelve or so inches of snow. It's the middle of April.

Enough already.

3. Outside

Assuming all this snow melts and we don't get any more, and assuming my garden swamp dries out sometime before July, my seedlings will go outside.

I realize that might be assuming too much.



More likely the Bean will see them from approximately this angle as she decides to grab one and dump it all over the floor.

Don't ask me how I know.

4. Zoom!

From my archives, taken the end of February.



5. Isolation

I can't decide. I can't decide.

I'll post them both.



Both taken Friday evening.

Peace Like a River

Our snow melted. Most of it. There is still a surprising amount left in the tree rows. All that melted snow? It's less than ten feet from our house.

My kids have been boating.



Wood Ducks have moved in.

The roads are a mess.

Our neighbor was moved by the Spirit to request the song "I've Got Peace Like a River" during church on Sunday. It was only the day before, on his birthday, that he'd been standing in waist-deep ice-cold water trying to unplug a culvert with my husband. As we were singing, I was moved by the Spirit to turn around and look at him in disbelief. He was grinning from ear to ear and waving his arms around doing the actions to the song. Clearly, in my professional opinion, he was still suffering from hypothermia.

Peace like a river?

The minute I saw those ducks in our backyard, I should have known what kind of day it was going to be. A Monday in every negative sense of the word. I should have known.

So it was that our power went out on a beautifully sunny day. And our sump pump, and our drain tile pump, and our septic tank pump quit running. And our sewage came pouring into our house like a river.

I sacrificed The Bean's squishy pink ball and shoved it down that ancient crusty shower drain in the basement, with a stick, and wedged it in with a concrete block. Apparently I'm not superwoman, because the pressure change caused a geyser of poo water to shoot straight up from a crack in the floor beside me.

Peace like a river.

I made an executive decision that the situation was out of control, and slogged my way back through three inch deep sewage in my rubber boots.

Peace like discovering that by some miracle, the cell phone actually had good reception without having to climb the windmill. My lucky day, indeed.

Peace like good neighbors who dropped a driveway/culvert project to rush over with a generator.

Peace like a quick lesson on how to use the shiny new generator my husband raced home with.

Peace like a few Japanese origami cranes to remind me that others need my prayers and truly, I have nothing to complain about.



Oh, Japan.

I have. Nothing. To complain about.



Peace like knowing He will Never Let Go

Depth of field

If you've followed this blog for any amount of time, surely then you know that I am a narrow depth of field lunatic.


What does depth of field mean?

Pay attention, I'll make it so obvious that it hurts.


That shot makes me want to watch Dead Poets Society. I'm thinking that I might have forgotten to take my medication this morning.

Don't worry, I'll be fine.

Look at this perfect, creamy smooth background. I want to lick it.


I can force your attention to the pathetic drowned earthworm that had such a great afternoon with us. At least it's not in five pieces like the other one was.


This next photo, I love it so much. I love the lines, the tack sharp focus on the vertical brace, the angle I grabbed it at... and did I mention how yummy that background is?

Have I totally lost it?


Can you even tell what it is?

The blurred lines and colors really fascinate me in this last shot. It looks like a magical forest just waiting to be explored.

Nope. It's only a tree row where I buried my dead cat, but that could have been my secret.


Depth of field? The nearest to farthest area of a photograph that has an acceptably sharp focus. I prefer narrow. It allows for such an artsy interpretation of what I see through my lens.

You Capture - "Depth of Field"

By the way, that was a corral gate. Did you guess correctly?

After the storm

Deja vu.

This weeks You Capture assignment is "Spring". Again. Just like last week.

Beth said, "TRY HARDER! What does Spring really mean to you?".

What does Spring really mean to me?

Woodticks.

Try again?

Okay. How about the magical beauty that follows an evening Spring storm?


When everything is saturated with rich blue and green colors.


The wet grass soaks through my shoes.


Some of my very favorite things come out to play. I can't keep my hands off them.


I almost forgot! My new header photo was taken that same evening. The plums are flowering! Mmmmmm....

You Capture - "Spring (again)"

Green

Mmmmm...

I love that green, green grass.


I want to fill my fists with it's cool moist freshness, and throw it at the sky. I want to run around barefoot and feel it's kiss between my toes.

I want to rub it in my hair.

What's that you say? I have loose chickens?

I nearly forgot about that.


Okay, an occasional chicken poop aside, that beautiful soft green blanket just makes my heart sing.

It turns our harsh winter into a forgotten dream.

It creates magical little spaces to search for hidden bugs.

Oh dear.


Yes, it also makes me want to kick my boys out the back door. For hours at a time.