A Bit More Orderliness

As I continue to try to juggle my life, sometimes less successfully, Phil has had two brilliant breakthroughs for me. First, he has started to enforce an 8:30pm bedtime. I read to the boys in bed until about 9:15. This is shockingly different from what we've been doing. I found myself last week reading to them until 10:45. It was a good book, and we were having a good time, but that is really late if I want to get any productive work done after they're in bed.

After three nights of this, I can't say I've noticed much earlier rising, so it could be that they actually have needed an extra hour or so of sleep.

The other breakthrough has to do with the dishes. Much though I like having a clean kitchen, if the option for twenty minutes is to either clean the kitchen or play the piano, I opt for piano every time. My pattern throughout married life has been to have a kitchen that is never fully clean and never fully messy. I'll get to 80% and lose interest or need to sleep or get called away to a sad baby. So Phil is instituting an every other day cleanup plan for the boys. Jadon and Joe took today, and they did a reasonable job. I was amazed that while I worked and ate breakfast, they spent that 15 minutes cleaning up 100% of the way. Excellent!

Phil took the boys on errands today. I had a gift certificate for the almost local Edible Landscaping nursery that expired today. Phil bought a lemon tree and a coffee plant, both of which we had bought the year we moved here, and both of which have died some years since. It was a good day to run errands because we were in our third day of deluging downpours, which has made the land a muddy morass.

Our local hamlet of Esmont had several fields almost entirely underwater.

While they were gone, Caleb took advantage of the silence and took a four hour nap. This from the child who took three cat-naps yesterday on my back, each about 15 minutes long. Maybe a white-noise maker is in his future, as apparently he has no ability to sleep if there is any sort of excitement going on. And with four brothers, there is always excitement going on.

The cows were bawling all afternoon. Although Phil had brought them two hay bales on Sunday afternoon, those were long since pounded into the mud, and the cows, cold, wet, and hungry, spent their afternoon yelling at me. When Phil got home, he realized there was no hope of a hay delivery today. Thankfully, the grass has begun to grow, so he wired up a lane and the cows eagerly went to start grazing. It's earlier than we'd prefer, which will necessitate further adjustments in the days to come, but for today, we're thankful they have pasture provision.

And I, once again, was thankful to the depths of my soul that I have not had to go back and forth between trailer and RV these last three days of monsoon. I can prep food in dry comfort, and that is a treat.

***


In other news, Phil finished emptying the construction trailer, and it is ready to go. Phil managed, on his own, to push it backwards, but with the rain, it soon sank down in a soft spot. He'll need some help to get it out.

Another thing he's accomplished is electrification of the milking shed.

I joke, without too much bitterness, that it took a week to get the milking shed electrified, but more than two months to get our trailer electrified when we first moved here.

I do realize that the level of complexity is not identical.

Caleb Is a Praise Sponge

It's been raining the last two days. Phil spent some time researching how to prevent the driveway from washing away any more. I don't know that he found answers, but it's a reasonable question.

I've been reading Cheaper by the Dozen to the boys, about the family with twelve children and unconventional parents. There are times when the boys laugh so hard they can hardly breathe, and I laugh so hard I can't read. It's dated, and not overly well written, has some mild profanity and off-color humor; but for all that, it is a hoot.

Caleb started to crawl today. I suspect he'll still ooch around on his belly some of the time, but we praised him for his crawling, and he is a sponge for praise.

Last week I taught him to raise his arms at the question, "How big is Caleb? Soo big!" He always smiles a beatific smile, impossible to resist. But if I'm holding Caleb while Phil and I are talking, Caleb puts his arms up. We are easily distracted. The baby gets his fill of praise.

After a couple of weekends of such excitement and rich interaction, I'm finding myself compulsively checking email, and counting down days to the next party, the next social gathering. I had friends in Boulder who would stop by and see me every week; I would go down to see my family a few times a month; we hosted people weekly for four years, and had others over regularly.

As long as we were in cramped quarters, I didn't notice the lack of visitors so much: I was staying sane in slightly insane conditions. But now that I've had a taste of interaction, I crave it and long for it. And without it, I feel, dare I say, lonely.

I wasn't expecting that.

An Interlude: Flower Photos from This Last Month

Soccer Fun and the End of Bullfights

I haven't watched a soccer game since 1998 World Cup. I guess I still haven't, actually, but on Wednesday Phil headed up to town to spend an afternoon with friends watching the Madrid-Munich game. He arrived late, with the score 1-0. Although the score didn't change until the end, he said, "It was so much more exciting than I thought." And then he stayed after and talked, and generally had a pleasant day.

He had tried again to milk Fern. Tuesday had been horrible enough, he confessed later that he was ready to shoot her. Calmer heads prevailed, and he managed to get her in the milking station and massaged her udder.

Thursday Phil ran errands, and spent an hour and a half in the evening milking. Fern seemed a bit more tractable, though he still hadn't managed to get any milk.

Friday or Saturday, Phil finally decided that life is too short to try to milk such a cow. Really, life is short enough, there is no need to shorten it further by risking life and limb every milking. Once wrestled into the stall, she stood moderately well, and perhaps eventually would even give milk. But grabbing her lead rope was a daunting task every time: with her forward-facing horns, and her over-protective personality, the intensity didn't seem like it would ever diminish.

So he turned her back in with the rest of the herd, and again resolved, with a measured, thoughtful cost-benefit analysis, that she will go to the butcher's.

Other tasks undertaken and accomplished this week: fixing the leaking bathroom sink. Wiring the milking station so it has light and power for the milking machine. On Saturday, a friend came and took away the storage trailer. It is surprising to have that space empty again, as it's been almost five years since we got it the first month we were here.

Rotten Fern

Monday passed in a blur. The nine hours of sleep over the entire weekend was not enough, and I cat-napped throughout the day, seven and twelve minute naps rudely broken off by tears over spilled bubble solution or hungry baby or other unexpected difficulties that demanded a mother's attention.

Phil proudly finished his milking station as dark fell last night. He pulled it down with the tractor. Clara and Charity did not have much issue with stepping in for milking. In fact, when Clara saw the door open this morning, she stepped up into the station herself. The allure of alfalfa cubes runs deep, apparently.

Sadly, the allure of alfalfa pellets did not tempt Fern. A day after being separated from her calf, we had hopes that she would submit to the milking machine. Phil did (finally) manage to get her into the milking station without being gored, but she struck out viciously with her hooves. An hour later, after patiently giving her time to relax, spritzing her with Arnica to reduce the trauma, and generally being as understanding as he could be, he came to the realization that I have known for some time: she has no place on this farm.

Really, as he said, "She hopped the fence when we went to pick her up. I should have declined to buy her right then." It's easy to say that in retrospect. But after a full day's drive, and the deep desire for heifers from this particular farm, we hoped for the best.

And Fern has been nothing but a pill. From the day she gored me after her first calf, to the constant horns she throws around when Phil gets close, she is not a safe animal.

But it is a bummer. Body-wise, she looks great. Her udder is lovely. Phil said yesterday how excited he was to milk her.

So to have that entirely denied him is a blow. He was bummed enough that he took a midday bath to soak away his sadness.

I'm thankful that we have enough margin in our life now that he can take some time to grieve a bit over that lost hope and expectation. It seems we've had so many instances of disappointment but not the space or time to really enter in to that sorrow ... it is good Phil can do so now.

Resurrection Sunday Awesomeness

Resurrection Sunday was one of my favorite days ever. After three hours of sleep, I woke up. Rather than trying to go back to sleep, I indulged in pleasure reading, the fourth book of Megan Whalen Turner's The Thief series. I was no where near done by the time I needed to get up to make chili and bread for a potluck. But that was fine. The boys were so handsome in their new spring outfits. Phil finished the milking (not a good day of milking: the calves are not trained to the electric fence, so they eat from the milk cows rather than staying in the herd where we would like them to be, so there was little to drink and one cow peed in the bucket).

When we walked into the gym some minutes before church began, the people leading worship were practically vibrating with joy. It was radiating off the stage. It was a good day to praise the Lord.

Then we went straight to our friends' house, where we stayed for the next six hours or so. So many jokes, so much sharing. We talked about sports and penal substitution, about how culture affects church style, fast food, Bible translations, home buying. It was deeply satisfying to my soul. (And I made my own latte, with coffee with enough ice cream added to make it sweet.)

Caleb ate beef. He liked it the most of any food so far. No sign yet of how well he digested it, if at all.

Back home, Phil had to round up cows. And I had a friend come for three hours to talk and pray.

So that was a day of about twelve hours of fellowship. How awesome is that!

Two Most Excellent Celebrations

For most of last week, I suspected I was pregnant. The test I finally took said I'm not, but it was an interesting week of introspection. I have had bad morning sickness five times. But I realized that, besides the physical, I've never had a healthy pregnancy mentally and emotionally. I faced that darker side of me, the side that would wish for a way to end the unending sickness. That is ugly and not maternal. I'm not proud of it. But it's human. And there's grace for me in that, too. Or, as one friend said, "It's interesting that we like to own our good points, prefer to disassociate from our bad points, without acknowledging that all of it is wrapped up together and just makes us who we are. In need of a Savior."

The boys and I have a pleasant time these days: we do schoolwork, I work, we enjoy the kitchen. They do art and play games. The amuse the baby and sometimes get frustrated when he ooches to the Legoes. When he gets on his hands and knees and rocks back and forth, they cheer. When I put him on the potty when he wakes up from a nap, and he goes, they cheer. Isaiah "taught" him to blow raspberries ("taught" because I suspect Caleb would have done it anyway). Then they laugh.

Last Friday we hosted a Good Friday gathering. It was such a blessing to have over 30 people come down. The fourteen children all sat in the center of the group, and our worship leader from our church in Boulder (who lives nearby), and our worship leader from our church here, both led us in some hymns. We read the story of the crucifixion. Several people shared about suffering. There is a lot of pain in this broken world.

And then we had a party with root beer floats from our own cow's milk and cream. Most people left by 10:45, but we managed to persuade one friend to stay until after midnight. It was another seven hours of fun and fellowship. I wish I could think of an excuse for a party a couple times a month, I find it such a pleasure and a joy.

Saturday was a celebration of a different kind. Some years back, a college student came and studied the first part of the book of Mark with us and a few other married older people. He and Phil had several good conversations, and he came down and helped process a pig. With great celebration, it was finally his wedding day, so we left the boys with friends (where they were thrilled to play croquet in the sun among the flowers) and drove up to northern Virginia. It was a beautiful day for a drive, up through Virginia farm country. We laughed that once we reached NoVA, everyone started driving over the speed limit (Charlottesville drivers tend to drive under the speed limit). The wedding was at a vineyard overlooking a valley, and when we got there, we actually got to talk to the groom for five minutes or so right before he went to his place. What an honor!

Caleb was mostly quiet during the ceremony, though he did get frightened by the cheering after the kiss and during the recessional. Despite having four older brothers, he doesn't like loud noises!

And then, in a special surprise, we found that we knew one other person there. In Boulder, we had one couple that we would sometimes go on double dates, the couple that asked us to pray about our mission the summer before God told us to start a farm. I've known their daughter for about seventeen years, though I haven't seen her since she graduated from high school five years ago. But she was there! She was a good friend of the bride, and was shocked to find that Phil had mentored the groom.

So during the photos, when we would have had to just mingle, instead we got to talk to, and catch up with, an old family friend.

The food was fabulous and didn't make Phil sick; our table was fun, with four of the groom's cousins (one of whom has a master's in cello performance and actually makes his living playing the cello—it does the heart good to hear that, I think), and two young ladies connected with UVA. We met the groom's parents, and they knew right away who we were, and thanked us for pouring into their son.

It was a blessing to me to hear that, despite the overall lack of hospitality and connection that I might project on the last few years, God was still at work, and we were part of what he was doing.

And thankfully we hit Starbucks on the way home just before it closed. The lattes kept us awake.

Two different parties, two different purposes, two nights of great blessing.

Happy Spring Days

We had two couples (one with three children) come for dinner on Saturday, and managed to have them stay almost five hours. They are all moving in the next couple of months, and it struck me anew how very precious every visit is. Even with my closest friends, there is such a finite number of conversations in a lifetime. I long to make the most of every one of them.

Sunday after church many of us stayed and had a picnic. We sat and talked to our friends for two and a half hours. I asked one of our single friends if he had any physical contact. I have sons I can pat on the back every day, and a baby to squeeze all day long, not to mention a husband. Like many mothers, I have sometimes reached a point where I just don't want anyone touching me any more!

But for our single friends ... their sole physical contact might be a handshake in a business context. The Bible does say to love one another with brotherly affection (depending on the translation, that phrase comes up in various places, likes Romans and II Peter). Is there a way to do that more? I would love to hand Caleb around to be squeezed, but he's become quite the mama's boy, and, really, that's a temporary solution at best anyway.

I talked to my sister for a couple of hours. She's expecting right now, and we have talked about pregnancy. She had a rough first trimester, but had the interesting point that, although she was more sick physically with this pregnancy than last, she is much better emotionally and mentally. She isn't living in fear, for example. It is interesting to be physically bad off, but still feel like overall you are a more healthy person.

That was a striking thought. By that measure, though I didn't leave the farm for four months when pregnant with Caleb due to horrific morning sickness, it was the first pregnancy I had where I didn't feel like the essential Amy vanished for 18 months or so. Besides the months of incapacitation, the worst part of the first four pregnancies was losing myself, feeling like my brain was operating at about 40%, that my sense of humor was gone, that I was missing.

If only there was a sure-fire way to not be sick. It would make pregnancy a whole lot nicer for a lot of us.

Monday was an ice cream making day. Phil made over a gallon. We did the same thing again today, but he figured out how to streamline the process and get a more uniform product.

Phil said today that he feels bad that I milked the cows for so long. He has a system that he likes; he feeds the cows alfalfa cubes and they line up for milking; he manages their udders and their feed and the jars of milk and the cleanup.

It was pouring for much of the middle of the night and this morning, the kind of violent squall that sends sheets of water on the earth that erode sheets of red clay. I was up early and heard a steady drip. When Phil got up, he knew exactly where it had come from: he had noticed last week that the high temperature sealant around the chimney had already cracked. At the time he thought, "If we get a heavy rain, I bet we'll get water right down."

He said ruefully, "Why didn't I fix it right then?" Well, there is always something else, some other bit of more pressing maintenance, or at least, so it seems.

No permanent damage done: the water was nowhere near any drywall, and hit only on the wood stove and the hearth. But I sure don't like drip sounds!

The Person I Aspire to Be

The boys and I finished The Second Mrs. Giaconda today. I have read this half a dozen times or more, but not since moving to Virginia. And I was struck again by the ending: if I had to come up with a secular description of who I strive to be, this is it.

This was a woman who knew that she was not pretty and who had learned to live with that knowledge. This was a woman whose acceptance of herself had made her beautiful in a deep and hidden way. A woman whose look told you that you were being sized by a measuring rod in her head; a measuring rod on which she alone had etched the units. A woman who knew how to give pleasure and how to give pain. A woman who knew how to endure. A woman of layers.

Phil Goes to a Lecture

One of Phil's favorite educators, Dr. Tom Woods, was speaking at Liberty University this evening. Phil enjoys listening to economics and history lectures while he works (we have very different interests), so Phil took Jadon and headed down this evening. He had a great time, and asked Dr. Woods, who has five daughters, aged 11 to newborn, what his thoughts are on arranged marriage.

We were all a little sad to have Jadon gone for the evening, though. We started reading another of my favorite books today, The Second Mrs. Giaconda, and we couldn't keep reading without him. I loved watching the boys laugh out loud, and exclaim, "This is a really good book!" Abraham got up at one point and thrust both fists in the air, he was so enthusiastic. Tomorrow we'll get to finish it. I can't wait!

Phil finally found the last bit of plumbing necessary for the vanity sink. So that task is done.

Caleb army crawls all over, moving from room to room. He broke his second tooth earlier this week, and with that process finished, he is ready to explore and examine. The boys are not overly enthusiastic about this new found mobility, though. It cramps their playing style.

Five-Month Photos

Phil and I spent some time today trying to figure out what cows gave birth last year. I realize I was sick for a good portion of the year, but it is a bit embarrassing to me that, between my calendar and my blog, I somehow missed mentioning a calf (or two?). I don't know.

Phil tried to repair the tractor tire. It wouldn't repair. So we bought our third new tire in the last twelve months. "You should stop driving over stuff," said the tire repair man.

The boys and I had a marathon of reading. I have been focusing more on math and writing lately, at the expense of reading aloud. But I got started on The Great and Terrible Quest last night. We read until after 10:30, and then finished the book today. What an ending! What a story!

Caleb and I went to town today to see the proofs from his five-month photo shoot. I was pleased with how the black and white portraits turned out. It was interesting to talk to the photographer about her husband's work, too. He's a psychologist and studies relationships, and how, for example, if a wife holds her husband's hand during a counseling session, he can make more progress with less stress. We are social beings, and want to be close to one another.

It was interesting to see that in the photos. The five brothers together had a really hard time posing so there would be a photo that looked good. Add Phil and I: there are seven people, settled in together.

So, for anyone in isolation: even if you just watch a game on television together, that can be enough of a connection to maintain mental health.

Phil separated the calf from Clara yesterday, so today he started to milk three cows. I was in town, so didn't see how long it took. But I am so thankful not to have that additional task on my plate. I feel like I mention that almost weekly. It is truly a great relief for me.

The Rain Held Off

As I mentioned, we were blessed with perfect weather on Friday and Saturday. I only slept three hours on Saturday night because I was so deliriously happy with fellowship and good conversation and general hospitality. A young friend gave me a thank you note that said, in part, "I haven't felt that happy and had that much fun in a really long time. Oh it was so great! I'm having trouble expressing how I feel, but I just want you to know that it was AWESOME!!!!!"

Exactly.

I did manage a nap Sunday afternoon, and then we had another five hours of fun fellowship. And once again I was happy, happy until 1am. Three nights in a row.

Do you know about love languages? There are, apparently, five basic ways that people show love: acts of service, quality time, gifts, words of affirmation, and physical contact. As a quality time gal, it makes sense that I would be so happy with over twenty hours of interaction in a single weekend.

When we got married, we thought Phil was an acts of service guy. We were talking recently and we think he's probably a quality time person, too. Which is why we talk to each other all day long, and go around feeling happy.

Today we woke up to steady rain. Rain and grey all day. High of 46. We got the heaters back out. I took three naps. (Two of them were very short and repeatedly interrupted. It's always surprising to me that a fifteen minute nap can be interrupted two times, but that's standard.)

It was a mellow day, with some school work and indoor work and cleaning and reading. A good day to be indoors.

Fourteen Hours of Party

When Phil turned 40, I was too sick to care much. Happy birthday and congratulations. Leave me alone.

But that is a big milestone and worthy to be celebrated. So we had a small and intimate dinner party this year on his birthday. We put all five leaves in the table for the first time in a long time. It fit!

Phil pulled the shoe bench over, and we even had seating sufficient for twelve, without resorting to plastic buckets or anything.

We cooked up all the filet mignon from Clover. The nine small packages were enough to feed us all, along with five pounds of mashed potatoes (with half a pound of butter), Greek salad, a couple homemade pizzas, a gallon or so of rich chocolate milk, and a chocolate sheet cake. We didn't quite eat all of that, but we came pretty close.

I will say: filet mignon is outstanding. I hadn't ever cooked it before, but I smeared the pieces with olive oil, then sprinkled good salt, ground pepper, and powdered garlic on all sides. Broiled for about two minutes on the first side and three minutes on the second, we were all in beef paradise. I will be excited to process another cow. Yum!

To continue the celebration, we had a big blow-out open house on Saturday. We had almost 50 people make the drive down that day! What an honor!

(And, because I am so pleased with how it turned out, we had good eats that day, too: three types of good chips, two platters of roasted vegetables from Whole Foods, the bread that came with those platters and butter on top, carrot cake, and the amazing chocolate sheet cake again. And for those who stayed for dinner, steak and leftover potatoes, along with sparkling wine to celebrate.)

I have mentioned before my friend's observation that American parties last three hours. That's not the end of the world, just a cultural expectation, but I was so gratified that our guests stayed five hours for dinner and a stellar nine hours on Saturday! Score!

We had prayed for fine weather, because while I can grit my teeth and handle mud for six (Caleb doesn't get in the mud much yet), the idea of mud for sixty was more overwhelming. It rained briefly in the middle of the night this week, and no more. And it was sunny, warm, and gorgeous. The boys who hiked down to the creek had a good time and didn't fall in. No one fell off the trampoline.

When we got married, I took the Myers-Briggs and I scored as a mild introvert (1%). Phil scored as a mild extrovert (10%), so since we were both near the middle, needing neither to be alone much nor to be with people much, we were good.

I think our long sojourn in the country has made us both crave fellowship on the times we can lure people out here, as that was so energizing for me I had a hard time sleeping before 1am either night. How have I survived without much hospitality for the last five years? What a dry season of life for me!

Now the only challenge will be to figure out how to lure people down again. And how soon can we manage it.

In other news, we had a heifer due on Sunday. She birthed a bit early, so we welcomed Felicia the heifer calf on Friday. Four years to the day after we first brought Milking Devons here, we have 21 living. Phil and I had a tricky time bringing the calf and mama up to the postpartum pen that Phil built, but Phil carried the baby and the mom was directed, eventually. The first day that baby was covered in flies, but the next day she was clean.

We suspect that maybe she just needed more of the birthing fluids licked off her coat. That seemed like a crummy way to enter the world, though. Happily for her, biting flies haven't made their appearance yet.

Phil put the haybale for the milking cows up into the feeder again.

Phil made two trips to the hardware store on Saturday morning. The vanity sink still wasn't quite functioning perfectly (the first water line he bought was not the right size, and the second was not the right length). He managed to make it all work, cobbled together. But he did get to shave for the first time at a bathroom sink. The mirror belongs in the bedroom, but for now, we can move it while we wait to find a good mirror for the space.

Exterior Improvements

This series of photos is too great not to share. Abraham was holding Caleb for me, and he said something that made him laugh. He usually smiles a sweet, but mildly insipid, smile for the camera. This was a great capture.

As he came out of the belly laugh, he was still cheerful.

Then he kissed Caleb.

And waved a shockingly filthy hand. I love it.

The last few weeks, Phil has gone grocery shopping after a Thursday morning meeting in town. I so appreciate being able to come home after church directly, rather than take an hour or so of my Sunday to pick up needed groceries. That was Phil's morning: pick up a faucet for the vanity and some other small supplies, go grocery shopping, get more alfalfa cubes for the cows and a new halter because we are expecting another calf in the next few days.

The alfalfa cubes are such a hit with the two milking cows that they now stand by the milking station, waiting for their turn. Today, since Phil had all those errands, they stood there for quite some time. Bribery: we're pleased with how it's working.

It was a good day to get tasks done. We received a load of gravel so that we shouldn't have any more muddy sections of driveway. How amazing to be able to drive all the way down now!

And then there was simply a lot of creative earth moving: grading on the south, cutting a swath near the door and then putting down leftover peastone in order to help it stay level; a layer of dry-stacked retaining wall.

Daffodils are out in full force now. Phil had hoped to mow, but ran out of time.

After it was too dark outside to work, Phil cut out a bit of the back of the vanity drawers so that they'll close all the way. And he installed half of the faucet (the supply lines he'd purchased turned out to be the wrong size. He had one in the barn that was the right side, so we have hot running water there).

A few weeks ago I went to a spring fling. One of my friends, a nurse, mentioned that her baby, only a few weeks older than Caleb, was eating nut butters. That surprised me, as I thought peanuts and tree nuts were a late-introduction food because of the allergen possibility. She said, though, that peanut allergies are unheard of in Israel, and when some commission examined why that might be, they found that the teething biscuits were baked with peanut oil, and so early introduction is now supposed to be preferable.

So Caleb has had some peanut butter. He has had a bit of cooked and mashed carrot. A mashed kidney bean. And, today, he got to try banana. As always he made a funny face at first.

It looked like he was adjusting well.

Isaiah was proud to capture the next moment (not shown): projectile vomit. I'm not sure if that was because of an actual allergy. I suspect the issue was that he choked.

I gave him another tiny piece, I think.

That one he spit out immediately. I might have a negative association with a taste that made me vomit, too.

Overall, though, good day!

Our Dumpster Goes Away

I mentioned to Isaiah this week that, when I was a girl, sometimes I would put Elmer's glue on my hands, pat the hands together until it dried, and then pull it off and see how large a layer I could get. With the rise of glue sticks, that's no longer possible, but Isaiah came up with his own method of peeling: the mud bath.

Let's just say that I washed those clothes in a load with only diapers and other items hidden away. That Isaiah—he is a creative thinker! Perhaps not always the most common sense, but I think his dad had a similar creative but no common sense mind as a child (and maybe still, a little).

The dumpster was scheduled to go this morning. At 5pm, it was taken away. Good thing Phil was working outside all day, not restlessly waiting!

It is odd to have the entire length of the driveway visible again. That's been a long time coming.

Phil had a good day of outside efforts. He cleaned up the exterior. He put up the rest of the flashing above the windows. He did some re-grading, especially to get rid of two large puddle areas.

The exterior layout is gradually coming together. Phil was initially going to use concrete blocks to stabilize the area in front of our door. But after tamping and trying to level them, he realized this would be a long, thankless task, and so he is thinking maybe a deck would be a good option.

He also dug a trench in order to begin a retaining wall.

So the day was mostly creative earth moving. Better him than me.

Cleaning Up

We were heading off to a friend's house on Sunday when Abraham spontaneously stated, "I love our family. It's good to know there's at least one good family."

Our friends are teaching a parenting class currently, and they had just suggested, that day, that parents might want to introduce the concept of a family culture. "That's the Lykosh family culture, apparently: the good family."

In another funny Abraham statement, he and Joe were wandering around with the machete yesterday, hacking down some dried weeds. Phil took the machete away when Abraham held it up and said, "Kneel" to Joe. That was a little too much verisimilitude. We don't need any knighted youths, and the ordinary boys we have, we'd like them to keep their heads.

The older two boys spent many hours yesterday carting cardboard boxes down to the burn pit. We had boxes all over, from moving and shipping and unpacking and gifts.

Phil worked on general site cleanup, like hose that's been unused for three or four years.

Today was more site cleanup. Well, until he drove the tractor over something that popped a tire. The new tire, sadly. The older front tire has had a slow leak, so he took both tires off so they could be repaired in Scottsville. Sadly, the tire fix-it shop had gone out of business, but he bought a plug kit and managed to get both tires fixed once he got home.

Then he did more: the mineral feeder down to the cows, who were fighting over it to get the nutrients they need.

Trash into the dumpster.

The dumpster gets picked up tomorrow. I am going through withdrawal, I'm afraid: what a great couple months it has been, being able to throw a bag of kitchen garbage away and know that the dogs and cat won't get into it! It is filled to the brim, so it is time to go. Phil even put in the mattress we used in the house trailer for more than four years. We are clearing out our life!

When evening fell, the four older boys were all outside playing frisbee. Phil and I walked around the orchard a little. He wanted to show me the general cleanup he had managed. The daffodils have really opened up the last two days, and we are hopeful that by the weekend, spring will really be here. Phil saw the first forsythias in bloom today; the redbuds and dogwoods won't be too much longer, I hope.

We have a Caleb Kilroy.

And we have a Caleb artist.

These last two days with weather around 70: so glorious!