A Way of Life Gone with the Wind

Yesterday I was away from the boys for much of the day, working and researching online. When I got back, sweet Abraham could not get enough of hugging and kissing me. I felt almost like Jesus with the woman who kissed his feet and cried, and wiped his feet with her hair. He needed some Mommy affection. It was very sweet.

I woke from a vivid dream probably around 4:30am or so. In the dream, we finally had a home offer, but it was so ridiculously low as to be insulting. (If we started off listing our house at $159K, this offer was for $32K. I mean, really ridiculous.) In the dream, though, it was our agent’s voice and apologetic chuckle and everything.

I woke, startled to realize that we actually have had no offer yet. And never went back to sleep. Which was okay—all the family members were up by 6:15am for some reason.

With that horrid dream not yet shaken off, I think I began to panic a bit over financial issues again. I guess this is just a pattern for me, which is silly because God has not failed us yet, but the idea that we could be months or years from earning anything off the land weighed heavily on me this morning. We had begun this process knowing that, but our financial situation was a great deal more rosy two years ago than it is now (as was most of ours, I suspect).

I left to work some more at Johanna Bush’s house, and as I drove away from Isaiah, waving goodbye (and ran over several large logs as I backed poorly out of the driveway), I sobbed and sobbed. I used to be able to work at night, after the boys were asleep, or in the afternoon as they played. I didn’t have to leave sweet Abraham so he missed me, or the other boys so they didn’t get in “enough” school time. I could be productive every minute of every day, and get a lot done.

Although I don’t wish I was back in Boulder—not for a minute have I wished that—it was good to remember that there is grief in change. I grieve for my effortless internet and electricity, for my interaction with the boys, for seeing my family on a fairly regular basis.

Sometimes a good cry is cleansing, and I felt a bit better.

My boys interact so beautifully, so much of the time. I will take today as a case in point.
Denise came to see our progress over the last month. We were showing her the sheep and the goats, and there came Jadon, carrying little Jonadab down the hill to us, so Joe wouldn’t be sad. So sweet!
Or this morning, Abraham sat next to Isaiah and handed him book after book of easy readers, and Isaiah happily read them, one right after the other. So sweet!
Or today, I blew out my breath in a “phew!” type sound, and Joe imitated me so merrily.
Or Abraham, again giving me kisses and saying, “I missed you, Mommy.”

They get interaction with people, even if those people are their brothers much of the time.

It was a hot and humid day today. After glorious days in the low 70s for the last three weeks, today felt like a blazing 90 (though it was only 82, with about 80 percent humidity). The boys went swimming at the Bessettes, because we were drooping.

Phil has stalled a bit on building the metal shed. It is supposed to be constructed on a concrete slab (a flat surface), so the slight angle up at one corner makes the siding not fit. He might need to excavate it out; he might need to deconstruct and reconstruct. It is all overwhelming and sad to me.

I am not yet a pioneer woman in the sense of wanting to just get in and fix it. On days like today, I’d rather just go to sleep and forget it.

Some good things: we received our first package at our land! Yes, FedEx delivered a package to our made-up address, while we weren’t here. It was on a chair right by our door. (Thanks to my sister for the bread machine inside.) Since I have other packages on the way, that was a great relief to me.
Another good thing was that Acorn let me touch her.
And another was that the older boys are finally able to enjoy The Wheel on the School. I was ready to read that glorious comfort book to them. I had tried it a few months back, and they would not settle in to listen, but we read for an hour before bed, and they were wishing for more. (Isaiah fell asleep in two minutes after I’d finished reading.)

Phil is constantly enthusiastic over how our pastures are becoming actual pasture, with grass and low-lying plants. He managed to saw down larger stumps, and then mow the last three or four paddock spaces in only an hour or two.

Here's a quick photo tutorial on pasture rehabilitation.

First, significant overgrowth. Blah.
Next, bush hog. After a month, you have regrowth that looks like this.

Add goats and sheep for a few days. With their hay and manure covering the ground, and their delight in eating, the soil is well picked over by the time they move on.

But the oats grow back! Just a few weeks later, and the land has a green sheen.

And, finally, a word about watering. How do we water our garden, without running water? Great question!

Three ways: first, I save all the dishwashing/handwashing water, and use this “greywater” on the herb gardens. Second, if it rains even a bit, we funnel the tarp into five gallon buckets. The entire surface area of the two trailers and the tarp can fill a five gallon bucket pretty quickly even in a light rain. Third, we haul water.

That entails first filling a 65 gallon storage container at the Bessettes. Back at home, I run a hose from the container into a five gallon bucket. I pour half the bucket into my watering can, and then walk up the hill to the garden with the watering can and half-filled bucket, leaving the hose from the 65 gallon container running to fill another bucket. I sprinkle my plants with the watering can, refill the watering can with the half-filled bucket, then run back downhill to repeat the process.

I will be thankful when we have a working well.

For the moment, you can be thankful that you buy your vegetables at the grocery store.