one day at home
It's a strange and lonely time, with everyone in the world under a stay-at-home order. To say the least.
We are all adjusting to isolation and uncertainty and anxiety and a feeling of scarcity. Our family is overwhelmingly grateful for this space we have, of nature and breathing room and beauty and possibility. Abundance. We are so thankful to be "stuck" here. I see the silver linings everywhere, of our time together and the focus on this place we have wanted to transform and make our own. It's challenging all the things I said I wanted, as only life can do. Investing the energy and love to help our dream grow. To garden and grow the homestead, which is the only thing that isn't weird right now! We are dreaming of an orchard, a chicken coop, puppies, and a tree house. Big stuff that is possible when we are all at home.
We also have to take it one day at a time. It is too much. The pressures of our daily work, with no childcare or other outside support, plus the care and feeding of the household with strange grocery situations and shortages, and attention on our own health and sanity. Layering on big expectations for how to use our land is just... a lot.
It's important to us to do it right, little by little. So if I think beyond today I feel overwhelmed. If I focus on today I know I have everything I need and the next steps are clear.
Today, get up. Eat Phoebe's biscuits for breakfast. Make eggs. Let the boys play (no "school" today). Plant blueberries. Mow. Eat lunch. Take naps. Mow some more. All the boys go pick up beer at the pallet sale while I do yoga. Play outside. Eat dinner. Bedtime battle. Quiet. Blog post.
So here we are.
Kevin and I have been dividing up our days-- weekdays and weekends so far-- to tackle all that has to be done and keep some mental breathing room. We've been great partners, as usual, and keeping our compassion. The other night he suggested I go for a walk outside while he cleaned up the kitchen. I said, yes.
I followed deer tracks in the cove to a beautiful view up the gulley and across the field to the sunset.
What a gift to step outside in to this light.
In the garden, sugar snap peas have are growing. Beets and parsnips and lettuce have sprouted. Kale and herbs are doing well in the deck planters. And tons of seedlings are waiting patiently in the sunroom for the warm weather that has finally arrived. April will no doubt be a time of growth and hope right where we are.
But I am only thinking about today. And today, I am grateful.
We are all adjusting to isolation and uncertainty and anxiety and a feeling of scarcity. Our family is overwhelmingly grateful for this space we have, of nature and breathing room and beauty and possibility. Abundance. We are so thankful to be "stuck" here. I see the silver linings everywhere, of our time together and the focus on this place we have wanted to transform and make our own. It's challenging all the things I said I wanted, as only life can do. Investing the energy and love to help our dream grow. To garden and grow the homestead, which is the only thing that isn't weird right now! We are dreaming of an orchard, a chicken coop, puppies, and a tree house. Big stuff that is possible when we are all at home.
We also have to take it one day at a time. It is too much. The pressures of our daily work, with no childcare or other outside support, plus the care and feeding of the household with strange grocery situations and shortages, and attention on our own health and sanity. Layering on big expectations for how to use our land is just... a lot.
It's important to us to do it right, little by little. So if I think beyond today I feel overwhelmed. If I focus on today I know I have everything I need and the next steps are clear.
Today, get up. Eat Phoebe's biscuits for breakfast. Make eggs. Let the boys play (no "school" today). Plant blueberries. Mow. Eat lunch. Take naps. Mow some more. All the boys go pick up beer at the pallet sale while I do yoga. Play outside. Eat dinner. Bedtime battle. Quiet. Blog post.
So here we are.
Kevin and I have been dividing up our days-- weekdays and weekends so far-- to tackle all that has to be done and keep some mental breathing room. We've been great partners, as usual, and keeping our compassion. The other night he suggested I go for a walk outside while he cleaned up the kitchen. I said, yes.
I followed deer tracks in the cove to a beautiful view up the gulley and across the field to the sunset.
What a gift to step outside in to this light.
In the garden, sugar snap peas have are growing. Beets and parsnips and lettuce have sprouted. Kale and herbs are doing well in the deck planters. And tons of seedlings are waiting patiently in the sunroom for the warm weather that has finally arrived. April will no doubt be a time of growth and hope right where we are.
But I am only thinking about today. And today, I am grateful.