A Glorious Day

After so many days of cold and grey (which, really, isn't so hard when I don't have to go outside for each meal), today's sunny weather in the upper 70s was a glorious hug.

Yesterday the ground had firmed up enough that Phil was able to move his tools and such out. He walked out at one point and looked up: Shadow on the roof, just overhanging a little.

We haven't had a day yet without tools in at least one room, so to suddenly have more floor space—it was a revelation. Without the excuse of construction tools, I made an effort to clean all horizontal surfaces and actually sweep up all floors and such.

Phil took apart a shotgun shell to show the boys how it's made. Isaiah said, "This is a great homeschooling lesson!"

Phil had a solid day cleaning out his office trailer. We are getting rid of it soon, and he has been waiting for both some spare time and some dry weather: it's disgusting to transport boxes in rain and mud. He moved a filing cabinet by himself and hung shelves. He needed to organize his books (yes, he needed a whole shelf for steel and a whole shelf for concrete, as he found after some rearranging). He said, a bit ruefully at the end of the day, "That was productive, but if I just look at what I accomplished, it doesn't look like much." True. But organizing is a big task, so good on him for persevering.

Today, with my space cleaned and the sun shining, I brought down all the pictures and other wall decorations that I have. I scrutinized each one, to make sure I loved it, or had a story behind it. There were a few cards and such that I have had on my wall since high school; some I still love, and some I have outgrown, or have faded too much over the years. So I reframed perhaps five things, and then began the many hour task of determining which items should go in which room and which wall.

After a few false starts, and many attempts and rearrangings, I have determined layouts for every wall. Some walls are actually hung, but the exterior walls, with their concrete block, need special hangers and help from Phil, so not all pictures are quite hung yet, but the boys went from room to room, admiring what we have up. It's quite a different feel!

Between the doors to the play room and the boys' bedroom, I love that the mirror reflects the books on the opposite wall.

Above the piano I have a practical clock, and some classy, fun things.

The four beautiful line drawings my sister has done of the four older boys are on a wall of the playroom.

On the wall facing the kitchen, between bedroom and bathroom: birds' eye maple salad tongs and a lovely juniper trivet, among others.

On one bedroom wall, for now nothing but a mirror and the elderly Japanese couple on a dresser. Simple.

On another bedroom wall, right above my dresser, a collection of happy, lovely things.

Including this super cheerful little chick! So cute!

And the boys' room is done, too.

It includes a card my Dad found for Phil last year that says, "Noah's Facebook status for the last month: 'Still raining, cleaned poop.'" How apropos.

Phil found that almost all our stock tanks have pinhole leaks, so he got another one. He said that even if that was the only thing he did all day, that would have been a good day: taking care of long-time stresses is always a good thing.

We all spent some time cleaning up outside, Caleb on my back for the first time. I had hoped to use cardboard to go under a garden, and so stacked cardboard in various places. Over the last year, though, the cardboard has been scattered, been rained on, had muddy silt cover it, been scratched to shreds by Bitsy. We piled sodden, filthy cardboard, often no more than scraps, onto a pallet on the tractor and Phil drove it the pallet to the burn pit, over and over. Isaiah helped him once.

I appreciate anything that makes me feel less like we live in a trash heap.

The biggest grin of the day? The pig stock tank that has been down slope and unused since, what, September 2012, Phil finally brought up slope with the tractor. No longer is there a white tank to draw my eyes and my ire when I look down slope.