Hello friends! Here’s what I’ve been up to or what I plan to be doing the last week of this month:

• Walk bear foot around the yard until my toes tingle

• Weed out the last of the summer clothes from the clean laundry — I’ve made the swap for all of the children but there are always some stragglers.

• Minimize my wardrobe and sell worthy items on Depop — I quite like Depop. It’s basically like having a yard sale, you won’t make much but you feel better about seeing your clothes off. I hear Vinted may be even better?

• Prepare for St. Nicholas day - obtain chocolate coins, wool socks, books, etc. — I’ve completed this task and feel quite triumphant. St. Nicholas day has a way of getting away from you, what with following right after Thanksgiving, so planning ahead is a must.

• Lay in an open field and stare at the bright blue sky — so little rain this month, the sky has been magnificent.

• Finish reading Frankenstein and The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion: Vol. 5 — Frankenstein is November’s book to discuss in my Literary Ladies group. I haven’t read it since college, and apparently I hardly paid attention when I did, because it seems like a first read for me. This book will complete one year of our book club and it’s been such a joy. Book clubs are the best; I can’t think of a better way to spend an evening with ladies. I’m finally really enjoying the EML series, it took five books to accept that it’s ridiculous and that’s ok.

• Mourn the impending loss of my favorite 180 year old tree — My neighbors are planning to take down a beautiful maple that I enjoy from my kitchen and dining room, as well as our upstairs guest room. Daily I admire this tree. All the birds love it too. In fact, two summers ago we had a Northern Flicker family that nested in a cavity of the tree. Anyway, I really get upset about trees coming down, in general, and this especially feels like a blow; a bright spot in my life being taken away.

• Beginning my first ever knitting project — for years I’ve claimed that I would begin knitting in earnest in my 40s (I’m 37, for reference), but then a dear friend of mine began knitting, and she’s our pew buddy at church. Each Sunday I watch her happily knit socks, hats, gloves in the brightest hues. She radiates pure satisfaction. So I said, forget it, I begin this Autumn. Another friend of mine simultaneously decided the same, so we have declared ourselves knitting buddies. Just today we went to a massive yarn store to buy our supplies. Stay tuned!

A few other things:

1. Towards the end of September I was able to host my Charlotte Mason book club ladies at our family lake place in the Northwoods of Wisconsin. Sharing such a special place to our family with my dearest friends was such a gift to me! We went on nature walks, ate tons of delicious food, took the canoe and kayak out, discussed this Parents Review article, did our respective handicrafts, and chatted away. All of the photos in this post are from that trip.

2. I’ve purchased from Quince and I quite like their items. So the Substack post, Is Quince the new Target for the 5%?, caught my eye. And hey, she’s got a point: “We have optimized consumption so successfully that we can increasingly skip the process through which preferences used to form.” I often ponder the process by which one’s beauty sense is formed…it seems that preferences are down-stream from beauty sense. Is the lack of formed preferences then the result of a non-existent beauty sense?

3. Beatrix Potter: Living proof of the Charlotte Mason Method…The lives of Charlotte and Beatrix touching is a wonderful thing to think about.

4. I own a small jewel green 1869 copy of James Russell Lowell’s poetry. He really is an American treasure! I believe I was first introduced to him through The Cloud of Witness. Here’s one of his poems fit for this week.

All-Saints
One feast, of holy days the crest,
I, though no Churchman, love to keep,
All-Saints,--the unknown good that rest
In God’s still memory folded deep;
The bravely dumb that did their deed,
And scorned to blot it with a name,
Men of the plain heroic breed,
That loved Heaven’s silence more than fame.

Such lived not in the past alone,
But thread to-day the unheeding street,
And stairs to Sin and Famine known
Sing with the welcome of their feet;
The den they enter grows a shrine,
The grimy sash an oriel burns,
Their cup of water warms like wine,
Their speech is filled from heavenly urns.

About their brows to me appears
An aureole traced in tenderest light,
The rainbow-gleam of smiles through tears
In dying eyes, by them made bright,
Of souls that shivered on the edge
Of that chill ford repassed no more,
And in their mercy felt the pledge
And sweetness of the farther shore.

August

We kicked the month off with a two week stay in the Northwoods of Wisconsin. Our family lake place is dear to us, and our trips to the Northwoods involve water activities, walking trails, wild blackberry picking, and eating a lot of frozen custard. As the kids get older they’re enjoying more freedom on the property and lake. It brought me joy to watch them, armed with a whistle to signal if in need of help, take paddle board and kayaking expeditions to explore the bay, shoreline, and islands. These sort of activities inevitably conjure thoughts of the Walker children1. We may not have the Lake District of England (glorious place!) but Wisconsin does just fine for herself.

A couple of days home and we packed up for our next adventure: our first family camping trip. My anecdotal hypothesis is that anyone who has positive memories of camping as a child wants to re-create those for their children as an adult, and anyone who doesn’t is typically apathetic or against the idea. I have a handful of positive memories of camping as a child, but Kurt does not, so as a couple it took us awhile to take the leap. Thankfully we planned this trip with some of our dearest friends, who mind you, are camping all-stars.

We had to forgo our first night of camping due to torrential downpours, but when we did arrive at the park we were able to change our campsites to avoid mud and happily found the hiking trails exceeded our expectations. I recommend Turkey Run State Park in Indiana — we didn’t know Indiana could have such a place!

Nevertheless, and it feels very un-cool of me to admit, it will likely be our last tent camping endeavor for some time. I have great admiration for tent camping friends with small children, but I think we’ll be waiting for some magical future date in which it’s easier to pack an insane amount of supplies in order to sleep on the ground and eat outdoors. It probably doesn’t help that neither Kurt nor I are Type A, so when you realize you’ve forgotten garbage bags, a cutting board, or are missing the right amount of stakes for your tent, it’s not exactly a boost of confidence.

Maybe a camping trailer is in our future though.

Upon our return we welcomed my dear childhood friend for the weekend. Ashley and I have been friends since I was 11, which makes our friendship 26 years old. Few life-experiences are as dear and comforting as a decades-long friendship in which you’ve known the person in various stages and places of life. We know each other’s context in a way few do. When I’m with Ashley it’s akin to pulling on a pair of old jeans that fit like a glove.

Into the city we went, and there enjoyed amazing food at Ramen San and spent two hours in the Art Institute of Chicago. On a previous visit I had been struck by the oil painting, Meekness, by Eustache Le Sueur, and on this trip I was pleased to find a print of it in the shop. It’s now hanging in my living room. We also had the treat of seeing Jon Guerra perform in a beautiful old church. Hearing him live was the best introduction to him, as I was only vaguely familiar with his music beforehand. His song Reckoner is currently my go-to. You can never underestimate what good company, good food and beauty can do for two oft weary mothers!

When our trips were over and company gone, the stifled panic of what I had left to accomplish before lessons resume began to bubble to the surface. It’s the underbelly of August for homeschool mothers everywhere. Don’t ask us in August if you should homeschool. We may get a crazed look in our eye, and if we’re feeling particularly honest, advise you against it unless your resolve is one of STEEL.

The thing about homeschooling is, it starts out slow and sweet. You really are just reading amazing picture books, reading poetry, and doing art projects. Getting outside is easy. (Of course, it may not feel easy at the time, but in retrospect is seems like it was relatively easy, at least for me.) These are the aspects of homeschooling you’ll see depicted most on social media, and understandably so. It’s wonderful!

The early years are golden because they give space for the paradigm shift that home educating requires. That paradigm shift is foundational because in later years as you add children to your family and then additional students, everything becomes increasingly complex. The gently rolling path quickly develops into rough terrain and a steep climb. There are a lot of things you simply (and thankfully) can’t foresee, like which students will pick up reading easily and which will still find it laborious at ten years old. Or whether you’ll have a child with special needs, physical therapy appointments, or a difficult pregnancy or postpartum period. Vigilance to protect your vision and values and perseverance to hold fast the principles necessary to see them through are required. Simultaneously, the virtue of flexibility is also needed — the willingness to evaluate the landscape honestly and to make adjustments as needed.

Homeschooling isn’t the end all be all, but what I’m saying is, as with anything you consider important, you have to work to keep the main thing the main thing and avoid distractions, unnecessary frills, opinions, noise, etc. And so, if you ask a homeschooler in August if you should homeschool, the long and crazy-eyed answer may be: are you willing to make paradigm shift? To commit yourself to fostering the virtues of perseverance, flexibility…ok, all of them? Can you tune into your mom-gut? Are you willing to continually ask the Holy Spirit to be your teacher, and to be your child’s teacher?

It’s quite the journey. However, if you ask in September, when the planning’s sufficiently done and the big picture regained, when a deep breath has been taken, and praise given for the beauty, awe, and struggle of it all, the homeschooling mother will likely tell you: Do it. It’s worth it.

Speaking of unforeseen trials, something that wasn’t on my August bingo card…lice.

In the throws of lesson planning when stress was high, I turned to find a single louse in a child’s hair…followed by many, including on another child. For the life of me I cannot figure out where or how such lice arrived. C'est la vie. I’ve never meticulously studied so many scalps, so many times. I’m convinced God has a sense of humor for tacking this experience onto my last week of August.

But September.

Glorious month. Best month in the Midwest (tied with May). We begin lessons on Monday and I’m feeling increasingly optimistic. Every year I’m mystified by how we’ll carry out our course of work, which really is robust, including extracurriculars, homemaking, and time for getting out of doors. And every year we manage, by the grace of God. I don’t see why this year will be different even if it’s shrouded in mystery at the moment.

A few other things:

1. Upon learning of Wendell Berry’s passing, I did as I’m sure a lot of us did, and went back to his writings. In particular, I revisited his poems and the many tabbed ones I enjoyed in 2023. Here are two that struck me this morning.

   X - 2011
   I saw a hummingbird stand
   in midair and scratch his cheek
   vigorously with his left foot,
   as he might have done perched
   at ease upon a tree. “Wonderful!”
   I said to myself. “I never dreamed
   of such a thing before, and now
   after seventy-seven years
   of watching, I have seen it!”

   XIII - 2011
   
   Will-lessly the leaves fall,
   are blown, coming at last
   to the ground and to their rest.
   Among them in their coming down
   purposely the birds pass,
   of all the unnumbered ways
   choosing one, until
   they like the leaves will
   will-lessly fall. Thus freed
   by gravity, every one
   enters the soil, conformed
   to thee craft and wisdom, the behest
   of God’s appointed vicar,
   our mother and judge, who binds
   us each to each, the largest
   to the least, in the family of all
   the creatures: great Nature
   by whom all are changed, none
   are wasted, none are lost.
   Supreme artist of this
   our present world, her works
   live and move, love
   their places and their lives in them.
   And this is praise to the highest
   knowledge by the most low.
   

2. I’ve recommended books by Alan Jacobs and also his newsletter. So here I am again to give his work a plug. My friend alerted me to this recent article, undermining Babylon System, and I quite like it and am still muling it over. Also his older piece, Handmind in Covidtide. When I look at my apparently ancient iPhone SE, I kind of feel like it’s undermining the Babylon System, just a smidge. And perhaps when it gives up on me, I’ll do something even more radical.

3. It’s no secret that I love Charlotte Mason. At this point she seems like a friend. As I prepared my lesson forecasts for each of my three students, grades 2, 5, and 7, I was again impressed with the breadth and depth of her course of study, and how it advances over the years. I snapped this photo as an example. While these 10 week forecasts don’t include their common subjects (artist study, composer study, folk songs, hymns, Bible) or even subjects like reading, math, or Latin, it still illustrates how the top left (2nd grade) eventually builds to the two-page spread at the bottom (7th grade).

   

Greetings friends! It’s dusk and the crickets have picked up with vigor their tune in the darkening edges of my yard. What, if anything, says summer in the Midwest more than their pulsating song? And it’s been quite the summer so far, and the last several weeks of it, hot. But yesterday there came a break in the heat and I opened every window wide and didn’t close them for the entire day. I was determined to sleep with them open too, so then we all woke up cold. Gideon said joyfully, “It feels like Autumn!” and we all agreed, even if internally I protested.

July has consisted of a trip to Philadelphia with friends for the CMEC retreat, drinking iced coffee, pulling an ungodly number of weeds and making seemingly no progress, house maintenance, and hanging a clothes line in the back yard (practical, yes, but also to realize the vision of billowing sheets and barefoot children running between).

I’ve also been thinking about, learning, and enjoying these things…

The Lord sees the heart

I find it simultaneously comforting and convicting: the Lord sees the heart, he knows our deepest desires and intentions. We stumble along, often failing to live up to who we desire to be or what we want to accomplish, and God knows and sees our efforts and never misunderstands us. The whole Bible is one tale after another of upholding the just and bringing down the wicked — the Lord seeing, knowing, and calling out, of his grace, mercy, and justice.

I catch myself wondering if people see just how hard I’m trying. Sometimes I think maybe I need to “stick up for myself” by speaking out loud the challenges. Then maybe I’d get a break or a pat on the back. I wonder, if what I’m thinking and feeling isn’t spoken, will it be acknowledged? Then I remember, “the Lord sees the heart”, to “live for an audience of one”, and “it is better to give than to receive.” The more I reflect the more I realize the ways my heart is mis-aligned, whether in seeking recognition, playing the martyr, or in claiming I want one thing but failing to act accordingly. And so those familiar phrases have become mottos, often prompting me to adjust, keep going, and to stop making myself the feature. I also pray that God will allow me to see others the way he sees them, that I would be able to see their hearts and what I need to know in order to love them well.

Life should be all living / Great books aren’t enough

Charlotte Mason and John Senior Agree: Great Books Are Not Enough really struck a cord with me. The article hits on the deep truth that children not only need to read (great books) more but to live more too. That in fact without the foundation of having come into touch with the real stuff of life (rocks, water, dirt, the open sky), the ideas in books cannot be taken in and fully integrated into the person. I nodded aggressively at the line, “Drop a young person into a Great Books course ‘without direct experience of reality and the love of it,’ and ‘you turn out smart, disputatious types with little real content to their agile arguments.’” The entire article is a must read. I promptly took my children outdoors afterwards.

Minimalism can be fun

Perhaps the word “minimalism” conjures mid-century modern stripped down, bare walls, and nothing on the counter. The kind of minimalism The Minimalists popularized in the 2010s. Not knocking them, but it was giving clean boy-band bachelor’s pad. I prefer eclectic homes, made interesting and homey by items collected slowly, perhaps unnecessarily, but that are beautiful or have a story. But aesthetics aside, I’ve found that trying to live minimal is actually fun, a personal challenge to see what, by choice, you can live without. It has less to do with forgoing my feminine urge to cultivate a cozy home, and more to do with the boring stuff in closets and cabinets. I’m already the type of person who prefers less; I don’t carry a baby bag, and my number one goal when packing for a trip is to take as little as possible. I’m more stressed by having too much than not having enough. (The unintended consequence is occasionally I forget the baby wipes.) Minimizing my home then feels like an extension of that.

Most summers when my brain isn’t occupied by homeschooling and regular weekly commitments, I re-claim cluttered spaces and go one step farther to get rid of things I’m not using (like parting with the crock pot because hey, the instant pot can do the same thing). This year I’m also conducting some experiments. I hid all of my couch pillows in a closet, for example, because I. am. so. tired. of picking them up off the floor. Let’s see what a season without them is like.

The right way to make a bed

I discovered it! The way to make a bed in which you’re not pulling sheets up so that your pillows are then resting on top of them, requiring the upending of everything at bedtime, nor the stacking of pillows, like books on a shelf, back to back, against the headboard. It’s satisfying to make, looks good, and is easy to climb into. Here’s a video describing what I do.

An Old English August

Lingering just under the surface is that familiar midsummer feeling of time passing too quickly, with the impulse to grasps at it, just to watch it slip through…So this little piece by Taylor is timely. It made me want to drink summer in all the more and then be ok to watch it go…though, truthfully, that will still be hard.

Siblings bickering all summer

Raise your hand if that describes your home! With a decrease in structured time, bickering has certainly increased in mine. But I don’t want to fool anyone: my kids bicker most days, regardless of the season. There are so many varying strategies on how to handle sibling squabbles. In my husband’s home growing up, as I would imagine is common, the strategy was always to separate, separate, separate. Very rarely did they practice working through the dispute. We’ve both come to agree that we’d rather put the work in to help children learn to navigate tricky relational disputes. We see it as our job to do so. You can’t avoid conflict forever and always. Plus, simple avoidance is not the sign of a healthy relationship. It’s helped me to accept that bickering is a developmentally normal childhood activity. It’s part of growing up and learning what it means to love others. Sometimes I stand back and watch, sometimes I offer input, sometimes I do separate temporarily…my strategy changes with the situation. Regardless, simply changing the mindset of, this is annoying! Why won’t they stop? How can I make them stop? seems half the battle as a parent. Leila agrees that child bickering and parents helping children navigate relational conflict is one way people get a moral compass.

How does the child learn? Outside-in or inside-out?

Art Middlekauff’s recent lecture, Outside-in or Inside-out, is all things I love: philosophy, history, passion, and inspiration…if only I could also get as excited as he about teaching the children mathematics! I was tickled when he finally mentioned classical education 30 minutes in, I totally saw that coming. I love that Art tackles the philosophical under pinnings of the ever popular “classical education”, even if it ruffles some feathers. The audio of the lecture is at the bottom of the article.

Apples by Laurie Lee

Behold the apples’ rounded worlds:
juice-green of July rain,
the black polestar of flowers,
the rind mapped with its crimson stain.

The russet, crab and cottage red
burn to the sun’s hot brass,
then drop like sweat from every branch
and bubble in the grass.

They lie as wanton as they fall,
and where they fall and break,
the stallion clamps his crunching jaws,
the starling stabs his beak.

In each plump gourd the cidery bite
of boys’ teeth tears the skin;
the waltzing wasp consumes his share,
the bent worm enters in.

I, with as easy hunger, take
entire my season’s dole;
welcome the ripe, the sweet, the sour,
the hollow and the whole.

With five young children the trip was rather challenging. (Our kids are currently 12, 10, 7, 4, and 1.5 years old.) We knew this would be the case but didn’t want to pass the opportunity up. The mentality of not taking longer trips until children are older and can appreciate or “remember it” really only holds water if you have a few kids, when you have 4+ children the age range means that if you wait for the younger to be older the older may have flown the nest! I would rather my older kids have the experience sooner and hopefully they’ll also be able to join for later trips too when the others are older.

We’d never visited for any meaningful length of time or done hikes in a semi-arid/desert climate so we had to put our Type C personalities together and do our best to plan the trip well. It helped a lot that my dear friend and her family happened to be making a very similar trip, also hitting the Mighty Five but in the opposite direction, at the same time as us. She’s a wonderful planner and I gleaned a lot of insight from her! We did not camp in the parks like they did. Maybe some day we’ll be that adventurous, but on this trip we mostly relied on Airbnb and Booking.com options. Having our new-to-us Transit van made the trip a lot easier too!

Arches and Canyonlands

There happened to be a heat wave going through when we visited the first two parks. Which means when we visited Arches it was between 99-106°F, depending on your elevation. This was quite the introduction to Utah! As long as we chanted “but it’s dry heat!”, and periodically stood in the shade, we were able to manage. Arches was my favorite of the two parks. The kids loved hiking up to the arches and sitting in its shade to take in the view. We didn’t have the opportunity to visit much of Canyonlands. It's such a large park that driving to the Southern part to see the Needles District would have taken an additional two hours of driving. Instead we stayed in the Island in the Sky area. Seeing the expansive views and the Green River below was amazing. We met a couple from Taiwan who spoke very little English and oogled at our family and asked to take a photo with us…a humorous first! (I wonder how they’d react to our friends with six and seven kids.) We then visited Mill Canyon Dinosaur Tracksite, mostly so we could cross paths with the aforementioned friends!

Utah Valley

I got to pretend like the kids and I were locals while we stayed four days in the Utah Valley - we were daily at the neighborhood pool, visited Temple Square, ate In-and-Out, and also took a drive to visit the Ballerina Farm store in Midway.

Perhaps the most notable thing about our time in the Utah Valley was the accidental hardcore hike we took as a family. We opted for the evening “family friendly” hiking excursion for people attending the conference Kurt was at. Well, it turned out that Bells Canyon Lower Falls was not a four year old and a 18 month old kind of family friendly hike. Instead it’s a five mile round trip with a 1,500 foot elevation gain hike. I will admit, I wanted to turn around, but that was after we were already a couple hours in and people told us “you are almost there!” multiple times. All in all, the hike took us four hours and we arrived back to the parking lot just before 10pm. The view was spectacular and I was really impressed with the kids, and with Kurt who carried Perry on his back the whole way and Gideon at various points as well. Several people on the trail thought we were some hardcore hiking family and commented on the good job we were doing of “raising the next generation”,…we did not disclose that we were actually foolish.

While I wouldn’t have chosen the hike had I known better, I am glad we had the experience. Gideon was really feeding off of Kurt’s masculine energy and hardly complained the entire way. My favorite quote from him was, “I’m basically a mountain climber now!” And as we descended down to the parking lot in the dark, Meadow asked excitedly, “Can we do this again tomorrow?” No, child, no we cannot. Basically, I’m the wimp.

Zion, Bryce Canyon, and Capitol Reef

By this point, we were a bit worn out, but Zion was our next stop and it did not disappoint. We buffered the time so that we could do things in a more leisurely fashion, and we were grateful for that decision. The Narrows was arguably our favorite part. The water felt so good on a hot day and a couple of the kids pushed past discomfort and nerves to end up loving it.

Bryce was beautiful! There’s something fascinating about the Hoodoos. We hiked the Navajo Loop, which takes you down into the canyon and allows you to see the Hoodoos up close.

I loved the small town we stayed in just outside of the park, we chose a tiny house in a camp ground (maybe not the smartest move at this point in a long trip mostly in close quarters) but the area was wonderful and the night sky so clear!

Capitol Reef was a shorter stop for us, as we were all beginning to look homeward. The pie and ice cream gave us a pep in our step!

Some other noteworthy things:

• In Utah, chap stick and lotion are a must! The lack of humidity is no joke. I was ill prepared for the feeling that my skin was back in January.

• Closed-toed Tevas and Keens are all we needed to pack shoe wise, they got us through the Narrows and multiple miles long hikes without a single blister. They also gave me a very weird tan.

• The Utah Valley is truly steeped in Mormonism, perhaps even more than you can imagine. On our first day there I overheard at the park LDS evangelizing non-LDS and later at the pool non-LDS complaining about the LDS. There was a Ward about every six blocks. There’s a subtly different atmosphere that I can only chock up to the religious environment.

• Other than the Mormon culture, Kurt and I couldn’t help repeating to each other how much the area reminded us of Southern California. Beautiful bright weather and amazing mountain views on either side, but very modern feeling architecturally and so many bodies crammed in a small space.

• Visiting the National Parks made me realize how much I miss carefree casual interactions with strangers - when people are interested in where you’ve come from and what you’re doing. It reminded me of my college years and when Kurt and I lived abroad. What is it about suburban day to day living that makes people unapproachable and uninterested? I was reminded that I want to be interested in people and have more conversations with strangers.

So now I’m doing laundry and trying to get back into the swing of things here at home. I have a lot of weeding to do in my garden, but that will have to wait for a dry day. I may start 26-27 lesson planning in the next week or so, but I’m not in a rush. I can hardly believe June is half way over! I hope Summer finds you well, friend.

But I mustn’t overlook April. Just like last year, we took a magical walk through the bluebell woodland with friends. I enjoyed keeping up my painting habit. I try not to let a week go by that I haven’t done a quick 20-40 minute painting of something. That time commitment, coupled with a more playful style, feels do-able. Spring also makes it much easier to do! We closed the month out by visiting family in Florida. A doozy of a road trip, but worth it for cousins, Memaw’s pool, pelicans, sea food, and beach walks by moon light. We’ve returned now, literally sick and sun-weary, but definitely wondering if we should find a way to move in a southernly direction at some juncture.

Here’s a bit of a photo dump.

A few other things:

1. Currently reading: What It Means to Be Protestant, by Gavin Ortland. I did break my no-buy rule for this book! I came across Gavin’s podcast a couple months ago and have really enjoyed his approach to explaining the differences between the Roman Catholic, Orthodox, and Protestant traditions and ultimately his argument for the true catholicity of the Protestant tradition. He is not dismissive of the longing many Protestant Christians my age are experiencing to live out their faith in a more “rooted way” - with a deeper appreciation for Church history, liturgy, beauty, etc. (A desire which is leading many to explore Roman Catholicism and Orthodoxy.) His humble, non-divisive, and non-sensational, perspective is a great relief. His work has helped remind and solidify many truths to me that I think were being overshadowed by my getting stuck in a critical mindset about what many Protestant churches are lacking.

2. It really can be difficult to watch yourself change or age,…and then Summer clothes and all that,…I was reminded this week of a pact I made with myself over a decade ago: I will not comment on how bad I think I look in a photo. And I will not suggest taking another one. This has brought a surprising amount of peace to my life! For my own sake and for the sake of younger listening ears, I think it’s only fitting to refrain from such comments. For most of my life I was used to hearing women complain about how they looked in photos or otherwise. I thought it was a normal thing to do. But it’s one of the ways insecurity was fostered. Most of us wish we were more beautiful, fit, or whatever, but we shouldn’t dwell on it or put that desire on other people to dismiss or validate. Also, yes, photos may not be doing us justice! But that’s ok. Anyway, this time of year is a good one to instate a pact. ;-)

3. One source of wisdom I’ve enjoyed recently is Sheri’s channel Our Life Homeschooling. She has 10 kids and follow’s Charlotte Mason’s philosophy of homeschooling. I could be wrong, but it strikes me that she has a type C personality, like my own. Maybe type A but she’s tempered it over the years. Either way, I’m all ears.

4. If I could begin again is an insightful 1918 Parents’ Review article from “a mother ‘getting on in life’”. It’s equal parts encouraging and humbling to glean from. She writes, “An atmosphere of love and joy and reverence and prayer will do more in the home than any amount of telling.” Hear, hear! If you scroll to the bottom of the article you can listen to it in audio form.

The Bluebell
by Anne Brontë

A fine and subtle spirit dwells
In every little flower,
Each one its own sweet feeling breathes
With more or less of power.
There is a silent eloquence
In every wild bluebell
That fills my softened heart with bliss
That words could never tell.

Yet I recall not long ago
A bright and sunny day,
'Twas when I led a toilsome life
So many leagues away;

That day along a sunny road
All carelessly I strayed,
Between two banks where smiling flowers
Their varied hues displayed.

Before me rose a lofty hill,
Behind me lay the sea,
My heart was not so heavy then
As it was wont to be.

Less harassed than at other times
I saw the scene was fair,
And spoke and laughed to those around,
As if I knew no care.

But when I looked upon the bank
My wandering glances fell
Upon a little trembling flower,
A single sweet bluebell.

Whence came that rising in my throat,
That dimness in my eye?
Why did those burning drops distil —
Those bitter feelings rise?

O, that lone flower recalled to me
My happy childhood's hours
When bluebells seemed like fairy gifts
A prize among the flowers,

Those sunny days of merriment
When heart and soul were free,
And when I dwelt with kindred hearts
That loved and cared for me.

I had not then mid heartless crowds
To spend a thankless life
In seeking after others' weal
With anxious toil and strife.

'Sad wanderer, weep those blissful times
That never may return!'
The lovely floweret seemed to say,
And thus it made me mourn.

Faber sniffed the book. “Do you know that books smell like nutmeg or some spice from a foreign land? I loved to smell them when I was a boy. Lord, there were a lot of lovely books once, before we let them go."
- Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

“How did you first come through the Classical wardrobe?” This is a question podcast host Autumn Kern often asks her guests. C. S. Lewis’s wardrobe, of course, being an analogy for the portal by which one steps into a magical world rich with truth, beauty, and goodness largely discovered through great works of literature and art. I’m surprised I’ve never heard a guest answer that they first stepped through the wardrobe as a child. Whether aware or not at the time, surely some of them did. I did. My mother read to me, and eventually I read for my self, the works of Tolkien, Lewis, and the like. And yet, a bit like Edmund, I didn’t stay in Narnia. Unintentionally the cares of the adult world slowly chocked out my attention for the world of literature I had just begun to scratch the surface of as a child.

Now that I’m a mother I’m aware of just how much of parenthood requires remembering what it was like to be a child. And perhaps that’s what rediscovering Narnia first requires, remembering childhood. Even, prioritizing children. Lewis famously wrote, “Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again.” Parenthood seems to be just that, the moment we’re finally old enough to visit Narnia again.

It’s ironic to say, but motherhood was when my intellectual life began in earnest. I know I’m not alone in this regard, I’m surrounded by women whose world’s have changed forever because motherhood, the decision to stay home, and also to facilitate the education of their children, has led them (perhaps back) to the threshold of the wardrobe. We’re pushing back the coats and we feel the wet cold of the snowy forest beckoning us farther in. My friends and I love to nerd out together over books, philosophy, theology, and handicrafts and legitimately feel like we’re living our best lives, and yet realize that many people wouldn’t dream of this reality for mothers.

This phenomena is what I want women to know about, it’s a collective memory we’ve lost: Motherhood actually affords us the chance to learn. And I don’t mean learn how to change a diaper and cook a meal (although, yes, that too). In fact, and I’m going to use a word not typically associated with the idea of motherhood, being a “stay at home mother” affords us the leisure to learn. Despite the truly challenging and exhausting work that motherhood, home-making, and home educating children requires, we still have time on our side, albeit small moments snatched every day out of the fire. And we can snatch them because we are the bosses, I really prefer Queens, of our homes and lives. One thing I’ve certainly discovered is that these moments add up to something remarkable. (Just think, 15 minutes of reading a day over the course of one year is 91.25 hours of reading.)

In the past 12 years of motherhood I’ve discovered and fallen in love with poetry and the Classics, found Greek mythology and learned a great deal of educational philosophy. I’ve re-read my favorite childhood books, not to mention new books on history, geography, natural history, etc. that I read to my school age children. I’ve learned to watercolor paint, and try to paint every week. It’s not that I have hours a day with a quiet house to do this in. My kids are home with me all the while. Ironically, my drive to learn has grown proportionately to the number of people and volume of noise in my home. There are lulls; my ability to read ebbs and flows, but my desire to begin again and continue forward has never left. Despite all odds, it would appear a vibrant intellectual life dovetails nicely with the desire to train-up children and manage a home. They feed on each other. It’s all rather connected.

It can seem like the intellectual life is for someone else, not us women at home. This was overtly believed to be the case, for example, during the Victorian era, when Education was reserved for upper-class men. Women were discouraged from knowing, heaven forbid, more than a man. Today women are graduating college at a higher rate than men (a fact that should not lead us to believe women are aptly educated), and yet it’s still hard to shake the idea that an educated mind is for the elite class. Now the elite just includes working women and men with letters behind their names. The beauty of self-education as a mother is that you do it entirely for yourself and for the sake of those you love, not for a paycheck, a boss, a title, or to appease a parent.

I recently read the dystopian novel, Fahrenheit 451. I was gripped by the call to simply begin. Montag and his wife Mildred haven’t read books before (instead, Montag has been burning them), but through a series of events he decides that they should read books. They are overwhelmed staring at a small stack of books on their floor which they’ve been told they mustn’t read. But Montag was resolved, “Montag picked a small volume from the floor, ‘Where do we begin?’ He opened the book half-way and peered at it. ‘We begin by beginning, I guess.’”1

This small humble beginning cracked his life wide open.

Look at the world out there, my God, my God, look at it out there, outside me, out there beyond my face and the only way to really touch it is to put it where it’s finally me, where it’s in the blood, where it pumps around a thousand times ten thousand a day. I’ll get hold of it so it’ll never run off. I’ll hold onto the world tight some day. I’ve got one finger on it now; that’s a beginning.2

When we were children we entered the wardrobe. Or perhaps, we were already there. Chances are we left it for a time. And now, as adults, we can enter it again. And while I particularly had stay-at-home moms in mind while writing this, I believe anyone, anywhere, can enter it…must enter it again. Whether you’ve got no fingers, or one finger on the door, it’s ready to be opened.

Just popping in to share seven ways I’m getting through January, such a long month, only second to February.

1. Citrus

   Winter is citrus season, and what better way to quell winter blues than by eating citrus that tastes like summer. It’s God’s little gift to us to help us through. Cara Cara oranges are our favorite and we eat them daily. We also make freshly squeezed orange juice. I enjoy seeing what other citrus we can find that isn’t readily available year round - blood oranges, for example. (I greatly relate to this video about citrus.)

2. Walks

   The days are short so you can’t wait for hubby to get home, you just have to bundle up, stick the baby in the stroller, and hit the road (the sidewalks are too icy). Even if it’s horribly cold, it’s still refreshing, and you come in, blood pumping, with the realization that, by golly, I’m alive after all!

3. Painting

   I like to keep a nature journal, but winter is always a tough time to find inspiration for painting. I recently discovered the illustrator, Matthew Rice, and his daily paintings have encouraged me to keep going. For me the key is to find other ways to incorporate color into the painting so it’s still fun even if the landscape I’m dealing with is brown, brown, brown. So I’m tapping into my imagination a little bit - adding fun borders or some other playful element.

4. Organizing

   I’ve been picking one or two areas to tackle each day that are well within the bounds of an hour or two of work - a junk drawer or dresser drawer. The feeling of slowly making some improvement in one problem area each day is very rewarding. I have a text thread going with a few friends where we share our before and after photos and it makes it more fun.

5. Fiction

   There’s gotta be some good fiction book going. Right now I’m listening to Harry Potter. I pair it with dishes or laundry. I do prioritize physical books, but saving one light fiction read for audio while doing chores is a must, imho. It may also mean you can rope interested children into what you’re doing.

6. School all day

   It’s generally excepted that morning hours are the best hours for lessons - but in January, no hours are the best hours. So I’m not trying to cram all of our lessons into the morning time. I’m spreading it aaalll out. My kids wanted to build snowmen yesterday, and if your kids want to go outside in the dead of winter, you let them. When they came back it was 2:45, and one child made hot chocolate to enjoy while doing penmanship. I cannot be bothered. We are getting things done - not everything, and not on a tight schedule - and that feels sufficient this time of year.

7. Delete apps, don’t buy anything

   Ok, what I mean is, pull back on consumption. The temptation this time of year is to feel bored and restless. Staring at four walls you may think, “I need to spruce this up!” You’ll go on the Target app and want to buy dumb stuff. Remember: that’s the stuff you’ll want to donate or throw away three years from now. Don’t do it! I find that when I intentionally cut back on shopping and scrolling I suddenly have bursts of creativity. (I even begin to think I should do wild things like put on a conference for women where I pull a bunch of inspiring people together to share their areas of wisdom…this was my thought two days ago but I told myself to cool it.)

It goes without saying that candles and tea and all things cozy are a must.

My home is full of books. I love it that way! To be honest, I’m not sure you can have too many books. I cling to the study that found children who live in homes with books have higher levels of literacy in adulthood1. It was true for me! Growing up my family may not have personally owned hundreds of books, but we did go on weekly trips to the library, bringing back hand-picked stacks each week. Roaming library aisles is a core childhood memory. Even still, I wasn’t a strong reader as a child. I watched my older sister’s consume books while I sometimes resorted to pretending that I was reading. I don’t believe I was a fluid reader until nine or 10, even then it remained a challenge. Nevertheless, I got the message: books are important. Books are a gateway to knowledge worth having. For years, my new year’s resolution was simply to read more.

As an adult, I always have books I’m reading and I always have books I want to read. I’m still a slow reader, but I consider myself a reader. It’s amazing. I’m finally reading books I’ve heard about my entire life. I’ve tackled books and genres I never thought I would. Tolstoy, Dante, poetry, and mythology.

But here’s the deal, in 2026, I have a goal of not buying books.

You know how some people who love to shop will buy a bunch of clothes that they end up never wearing? In the name of deals or “someday”, they have closets full of unworn clothes, price tags a-dangling. Well, I’ve been convicted of this same sort of behavior with books.

Obviously, clothing and books are quite distinct in nature. There’s still value in having good books you haven’t read yet. In a family, books are a communal purchase. I may not get to a book for five years but my daughter may read it tomorrow. Not to mention, you can’t grow out of books and good books don’t go out of fashion. Even still, I have a stack of books I legitimately wanted to read but upon buying them, POOF, the desire subsided. As if, my desire was more for the fun of purchasing than the delight of reading. That is worrisome to me. It indicates a lack of temperance.

So in 2026, I plan to read books I bought in 2024 and 2025 and haven’t yet read. Now, that doesn’t mean there won’t be exceptions…homeschooling requires some book purchasing and I’m co-hosting a classics book club next year that will require me to find a few books I don’t own. I also likely will not pass up a beautiful vintage hardcover of a family favorite, should I find it. Overall, however, I plan to hold tightly to the read-what-I-already-own-rule.

It will be an exercise in self-restraint and follow through — in trusting my past-self to have chosen good books and in believing that a robust reading life doesn’t necessitate running to buy the latest book I’ve seen suggested by someone I admire.

Here are some of the books I own and want to finally get to:

The Consolation of Philosophy by Boethius
A Return to Modesty by Wendy Shali
Trail of Tears by John Ehle
The Flight from Woman by Karl Stern
You are a Tree by Joy Clarkson
A Place on Earth by Wendall Berry
Patterns for Life by Rose and Wolfe
The Way Home: beyond feminism back to reality by Mary Pride

What are your reading goals in 2026?

We’ve been hit by a bout of sickness and it’s largely put a halt to our homeschool lessons as my role has shifted to full time tissue dispenser (and picker upper). Even still, I’ve found more margin for completing home tasks that I like to tackle in late Autumn. I have so much more energy for home items, in general, whenever we break from lessons. (I often lament that I could be such a great homemaker if I didn’t homeschool, but I recognize there’s a trade off to all of these types of decisions. And I’m still trying to learn how to be a better homemaker regardless.)

Windows
Because I’m a sucker for maximizing natural light and views, I like to remove screens from windows and store them in the basement until Spring. As I go I clean each window inside and out. It’s also a good time to wash curtains. I find that I wash high traffic curtains twice a year, once in Spring and once in Autumn. We have 40+ windows in our home, so this takes some time.

Dusting
I’d really like to know if everyone deals with the same level of dust accumulation in their home as I do. Is it the old basement (welcoming spiders) or less than ideal level of air ventilation in our Victorian home that contributes? I don’t know, but it’s war. Especially this time of year, whenever the sun hits my floors in the morning and late afternoon, it’s like a dirty secret is revealed. Anyway, I like to dust corners and under furniture and light fixtures this time of year. Some of it is a one time task (fans, outdoor lights, etc.) but the other dusting is just a full time job.

Washing wool and winter gear
This should be a late spring task but I often don’t get around to it. So you can find me soaking wool in lanolin in the utility sink and washing coats and gloves. I thin out some of the winter accessories that I know we didn’t use much last year. I’m thinking about getting a boot and glove dryer this year — is it worth it?

Bedding
Flannel sheets are an actual luxury to us cold-climate dwellers. I dream of flannel bedding from Garnet Hill but you can’t go wrong with Target options either. I also outfit each bed with down comforters. I have two beds left and then all of them will be swapped for winter. Now some of us will be nice and warm and some of us will be sweltering, depending on the room, because…old house problems! IYKYK.

Stocking pantry and deep freezer
Ideally I cycle through our bulk food supply year-round, but this past Summer I’ve tried to relay less on grocery delivery and this means I haven’t bought from Costco as often. Our bulk supply items are dwindling quickly. I need to stock up on canned goods, dry goods, and empty, defrost, and restock our deep freezer. I recently tried Azure and plan to order from them again as well.

While I complete these various things indoors my garden beds are staring me down from outside. I know, I know. I’m just holding out for that 60 degree day promised later this week to clear you out.

What are your go-to autumn home tasks? I get inspired hearing what others do.

In November when the weather starts to turn in earnest and the days shorten, when we’ve already accepted that summer is gone and finally swapped the clothes out, I’m then reminded to get to all those timeless autumn picture books that my family loves. It’s one of the reasons jumping to Christmas stuff too early is a no-go for me. It’s a joy to watch children build relationships with beautiful books. This year one of my children is having Ox-Cart Man read to them for the first time, while my others get to revisit it like an old friend.

Two posts back I wrote about beautiful art in the home as a sort of rebellion against the mediocrity-loving culture of our world. I feel similarly about excellent picture books. Our libraries may be chock-full of hideous, even crass, picture books but I do comfort myself knowing that each time I request a good book (they’re rarely on shelf!) the circulation manager and librarians are reminded that there are families like mine out there. Requesting books is a solid way to make our voices heard. I also find many beloved books on eBay.

I’m going to share some of our favorites. Instead of giving an exhaustive list of the picture books we enjoy this time of year, I decided to share what I consider the best of the best, both for excellent writing and beautiful illustrations. Here’s what we have on our coffee table right now. Please share your seasonal favorites in the comments as well!

Ox-Cart Man by Donald Hall

The Fox Went Out on a Chilly Night by Peter Spier

Woody, Hazel and Little Pip by Elsa Beskow

The Flower Fairies of the Autumn by Cicely Mary Barker

Johnny Appleseed by Reeve Lindbergh

Moose’s Book Bus by Inga Moore

Autumn An Alphabet Acrostic by Steven Schnur

Sky Tree by Thomas Locker

The Story of the Root Children by Sibylle von Olfers

Brambley Hedge Autumn Story by Jill Barklem

As an aside, I’ve recently become enraptured but Thomas Locker’s books. Today I picked up five that I had requested, and several give autumnal vibes, especially, Rachel Carson: preserving a sense of wonder; Cloud Dance; and, The Mare on the Hill.

Happy November, friends!

This week I snuck out of the house before 8am with my three oldest to visit the farmer’s market. We zipped ourselves into winter coats and happily piled into the truck to gather pumpkins, bagels, apple cider, beeswax candles, honeycrisp apples, beets, and broccoli. Slowly my yard and garden are being put to right — the hose is hung in the basement, the hydrangeas have been pruned, the garden beds will soon be cleared of tangled tomato plants and spent squash vines. Soon I will tuck daffodil and tulip bulbs into cool soil. Until then, they stare at me from my kitchen counter as if taunting, time is running out…don’t forget about us.

We just completed our 8th week of the homeschool term. Chugging, albeit sluggishly. Currently, I have a child who’s absolutely convinced math is the devil’s work. I’ve had to call in the principle (Kurt) for reinforcements. He promptly printed worksheets (CM moms gasp) while informing her that she’s a grade behind (all homeschool moms gasp). I didn’t even mind, honestly. Oddly, the same child has decided, if she’s allowed to “do it for fun”, that penmanship is a hobby. She filled out multiple perfect pages of cursive italics during last night’s read-aloud of the Fellowship of the Ring. You win some, you lose some! The only insight I have is that if they come to believe it’s their idea it always goes over better. Now pass along tips for how to pull that off with math, and if no tips, prayers.

I’ve had a good year for reading. I haven’t read a lot, but what I have read has been consequential for me. I just finished Jane Eyre, and despite wanting to ring some necks and protest loudly at its ending, I absolutely adored it. I’m still reading Dante, slowly and attentively, as well as, Cheap: The High Cost of Discount Culture, by Ellen Ruppel Shell, and Paul Kingsnorth’s, Against the Machine: On the Unmaking of Humanity.

I came across Kingsnorth’s book serendipitously. The book title caught my eye and then I began reading his First Things article about coming to faith. If you need to be reminded and to feel hopeful again about God’s ability and desire to draw people to himself, I highly recommend it. Our far off and searching loved ones are not too far off for God. Sometimes its a long road and then suddenly, “Everything was ­unchanged, and everything was new, and I knew what had happened and who had done it, and I knew that it was too late. I had just become a Christian.”

What’s so wonderful about this time of year? Soup. The anticipation of (and begging children for) the first stove lighting. Baking sourdough again (I mostly break in summer). Watching each tree turn, smiling at the recognition of their order…Maples first, oaks last, etc. Walks every single day. Watching the light shift, which windows the sun now hits in the morning and how the sun falls on the floor (illuminating all the dust) in the evening. Slowing tucking away little things for my kids come Christmas.

I hope you’re well, friend. Thank you for reading my humble Substack, in which my goal is mostly to just show up and write something once a month.

To Autumn
by John Keats

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep,
Drows’d with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

So I saw the video millions saw yesterday. It flashed before me on my 5.45 x 2.65 inch screen as the preview of a thumbnail in a sea of otherwise mundane thumbnail images. I closed my eyes tight and froze for a moment. A man’s life, gone, for all to see, in a tiny square on a tiny screen. Lord, have mercy.

Minutes later while still contemplating the state of our world, another image came to my mind, Gustave Doré’s, The Triumph of Christianity Over Paganism. I discovered this work only a week ago and I was immediately enamored, enthralled by the power of one black and white engraving to proclaim the truth of this world, the heavenly realm, and the hope Christians cling to, namely, Christ’s victory.

This engraving not only tells us Christ will have the final say, it depicts what and who Christ has overcome. At the bottom are pictured many rulers, authorities, powers of this dark world and spiritual forces of evil. Zeus, initially stands out, directly under St. Michael the Archangel. Then slowly the god’s of Egypt emerge, those whom God displayed his power over in the Exodus story. The Sacred Bull, Winged Lion and Ram, Hera, Hermes, Hephaestus, Aphrodite, Helios, Lamassu, are also seen turning in desperation from the blinding light of Christ and his heavenly host. Satan himself has lost his crown, it’s shown falling into a chasm below.

How do we, simple folk living simple lives, combat the darkness we see in the world?How do we have clarity and determination, like Charlie Kirk had, concerning our mission? Seemingly in response, Doré’s work came to me as a reminder: attend to what you look at, both with your physical eyes and with the eyes of our heart.

His work fills me with hope. Yes, Christ has triumphed. It gives me eyes to see the greater vision. Paganism will not succeed.

I wasn’t brought up on religious or even fine art. My guess is most Protestants aren’t. But in adulthood I had the realization that if following Christ is my ultimate goal, I need all the reminders I can get. It struck me as strange to be a Christian and not have any physical reminders in the home. It seems to me that first and foremost we must combat darkness with the Word of God, and then, also by fixing our eyes on “whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable”1 in picture, poem, or music. So over the years I’ve gradually collected art that speaks to the soul about God. These pieces have been a bulwark to me in my aim of loving and serving Christ with gladness and singleness of heart.

In my living room I have Rembrandt’s, Storm on the Sea of Galilee; a poster size print of Andrea di Bonaiuto’s fresco, Allegory of the Sciences (some about that here); and four newly acquired prints from Louis Janmot’s series of paintings called, The Poem of the Soul. In my bedroom I have a large print of, The Annunciation, by George Hitchcock. I think when I buy a print of, The Triumph of Christianity Over Paganism, I will hang it in our school room.

The world is full of ugliness and snaps and snippets of the worst of it are always at our finger tips. We have to get practical about how to combat this. In times of despair, we need a deep well of truth to pull from. One small act of defiance is filling the home with the victorious message of Christ, art that speaks to different aspects of God’s nature, his design, and what it means to live for something outside of oneself.

I’m seeing a lot of helpful reminders this week online about how to process and combat the chaos we see in our world. Here is my meager contribution: study inspired works of art; when one grips your heart, hang it in your home; look at those pieces when you’re struggling; pray about how to emulate the truth they convey. Trust that Good will triumph in the end.

Share Letters from Oakwood

So far my plan to not overdo lesson planning in August is paying off. I squeeze in a few things here and there but over all I’ve been able to set it aside in favor of paddle boarding with the kids, walking the trails on the 60 acres across the bay, and taking trips to the local dairy bar. Today I meandered with my girls through a local used bookstore and bought brunch at a cafe downtown.

Before this trip up north I also took a very special and long overdue trip to visit my sister and her family in Vermont. I hadn’t seen her in three years and we’ve added three kids between us in that time. This Spring I impulsively, if you can call it impulsive after wanting to for so long, bought tickets to visit. I took my girls and baby Peregrin, while Gideon stuck home with Kurt, who’s been working to finish up a remodel on a rental property we recently acquired.

We arrived on a hot and hazy July day. My sister’s homestead, tucked on the side of a hill, welcomed us with blooming hollyhocks, cohosh (fairy candle!), and dahlias. The cousins picked up right where they’d left off and were quickly busied with chickens, ducks, and bunnies.

I lead a pretty predictable and small life. I don’t mean small in a condescending way, but in a singular-focused sort of way — stayed by motherhood and home. I don’t have many opportunities to travel or be in consistent contact with people of different life styles. My sister also leads a cloistered sort of life, and yet, in the details, it’s pretty different. I loved the opportunity to see her in her home, to take in the sights and sounds of the simple yet unconventional life she leads. I took every opportunity to glean inspiration from how she navigates her world.

My sister has always marched to the beat of her own drum, she knows what she does and doesn’t value, and cultivates the life she loves. I saw and admired it when we were kids and I was so happy to see it up-close again. A lot about people and circumstances can change, but it’s comforting to know certain core personality traits and callings stay the same. I’ve had several friends ask if her life is as dreamy as her art work, and the answer is yes, but she does have fruit flies just like the rest of us. ;-)

Vermont is a wildly beautiful and extremely quiet sort of place. The rolling landscape and rushing creek beds seem full of questions — are you paying attention? do you know yourself? why are you doing what you do? are you listening? — A sort of embodiment of Mary Oliver’s words, “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”

Maybe it’s the case that these questions came because they’re already the questions I wrestle with. The questions of midlife? Or perhaps simply the proverbial questions Mother Nature has for us. Maybe all our lives we’re asking and being asked the same sort of questions. They just hit differently 20 and single versus married and five kids deep. Maybe most of us find ways to drown them out day to day. If so, a change of scenery might allow you to hear them again, and to see anew the deep well that life is.

We left behind the fields of Queen Anne’s Lace and the misty valleys of the Green Mountains but in my heart I’m still pondering how it is that we each are gifted the particular spaces we inhabit. I’m wondering what it means to stay. To be truly present in the life we’ve been given, even when longing tugs at the corners. Longing can be oh so elusive, but I know, whether it’s for open spaces, familial bonds, or our eternal home…it’s still okay to live firmly planted where you are.

A few other things:

1. I’ve got some pep in my step after completing War and Peace earlier this year. Now I figure, why not take on Dante’s Divine Comedy? (It seems the trick to beginning in earnest with the classics is simply getting at least a couple under your belt! Perhaps half the battle is a lack of self-confidence.) I’m going to begin next month and I’ve got a handful of friends joining me. To accompany my reading I’ve bought, The Dore Illustrations for Dante's Divine Comedy, and Jason Baxter’s, A Beginner's Guide to Dante's Divine Comedy.

2. My sister’s snail mail subscription has been a fun treat to receive the last six months. On my visit I was able to help prepare the envelops for shipment and my girls went to the post office with my brother in law to see them off. I loved having even a little part in what is truly a labor of love. She’s just re-opened the subscription for the next six months!

3. Speaking of snail mail, when Lore first opened up the subscription she helped pair subscribers with potential penpals and last month I sent my first letter to someone in Australia. I received a response just before leaving on our trip. I’m really looking forward to continuing to write, and hopefully, building a friendship through letter writing, which is truly a rare opportunity nowadays.

4. My friend Erin shared this Lila Rose podcast episode on marriage and I thought it was insightful, not only for understanding how men and women approach life differently, but also for the little bit she shared about choosing to give her children the gift of a patient mother. I really want to focus on the virtue of patience this upcoming year. If I’m honest, I sometimes think that being a patient parent means I have to compromise other ideals, whether it’s a well kept home, or school lessons happening in a timely manner. It’s horrible, but true, that I feel patience and productivity are at odds with each other. How can you have it both ways? The only answer I’ve landed on is a Holy Spirit led life. I’m going to keep praying and muling this over.

About five years ago I began to distance myself from internet use. Old house, homemaking, and homeschooling content was increasingly interspersed with content that brought anxiety, despair, and even outrage. I realized that I could no longer navigate social media the way I had without succumbing to the alarmism rampant there.

I know, with a deep gut sort of knowing, that alarmism is antithetical to motherhood. (Womanhood. Probably humanity.) Distracted and anxiety riddled women cannot also be the intuitive, serene and unifying presence in their homes. Mothers carry enough without also taking on the cares of the whole world. And what is the cost when we do?

Mom rage is one cost that readily comes to mind. Surely I’m not the only one whose level of irritability and anger increases when I’m alarmed and worried about the state of the world. It’s nearly impossible to mother well while also feeling overwhelmed about things completely out of your control. Believing a threat is always around the corner is a real problem when it’s actually your child waiting for you to help them or asking to have a book read. Being in a constant state of fight or flight keeps us from creating the homes we long for and being the moms we aspire to be.

The older I get the more convinced I am that, in general, women thrive when cultivating the interior life of the family on the home front, over going out into the world to slay dragons. But now the world is no longer “out there”, instead it invades our homes through screens and ear pods. Sneakily, “being informed” morphs into so much more. My distain for feminism grows when I see peace and joy stolen from mothers who think they need to do it all. We don’t need the 24-hour news cycle. We don’t need to rally the online world for a smattering of causes. We don’t need to be in the know, or worse, a talking head.

If you let them, your children and your home will actually save you from chaos and insanity. They will save you from the illusion that you are responsible for the course of the world, and at the same time, they will show you that what you do influence and nurture is a world unto itself. Dietrich Bonhoeffer said, “A home is a kingdom of its own in the midst of the world, a stronghold amid life's storms and stresses, a refuge, even a sanctuary.”1

When Kurt and I lived in London I loved to walk the streets of our borough. One such walk was on Christmas Day and, at the risk of sounding creepy, I observed many families gathered around their tables for a festive dinner. What were they talking about? What were they eating? Look at that kingdom — a whole world created and sustained.

Husbands and wives create these kingdoms side by side. But within that dynamic, I do believe women are particularly gifted by God for the care of their young children and home. Sally Clarkson writes, “It is indeed the personal touch of a mother’s heart that creates grand civility, deep affection, care and commitment to the foundations of a family.”2

In a letter C. S. Lewis famously wrote,

I think I can understand that feeling about a housewife’s work being like that of Sisyphus (who was the stone rolling gentleman). But it is surely, in reality, the most important work in the world.

What do ships, railways, mines, cars, government etc exist for except that people may be fed, warmed, and safe in their own homes?

As Dr Johnson said, ‘To be happy at home is the end of all human endeavour’. (1st to be happy, to prepare for being happy in our own real Home hereafter: 2nd, in the meantime, to be happy in our houses.)

We wage war in order to have peace, we work in order to have leisure, we produce food in order to eat it.

So your job is the one for which all others exist.3

In a beautiful way, as we pour into our children, literally at the breast or otherwise, they also give us the gift of experiencing anew the gentle, simple, world of childhood. Time is neither slow nor hurried and trust is readily given. For all the labor that mothering truly is, it also has the ability to sustain…when we allow it. When we reverence this way of life — believe it as coming from the hand of God — we find freedom to give and to receive.

But if we’re not on guard, worry, alarm, and being on edge will choke out the goodness of our life. Cutting back on internet use seems like a pretty straightforward place to start. Even something as simple as the weather app may need to go! Katherine, of The Analog Family, recently wrote that we need to quit worrying about the weather so much. Which reminds me, former climate change activist, Jack Harries, made a comment, something to the effect of: it was only when he moved to the country and started a garden that he finally felt hopeful. It was what he needed after being worn ragged from online dooms-day activism.

I truly believe my home needs me, my children need me, and that I need them — a grace from our Heavenly Father — and I am full of hope for the future.

I do argue with myself about whether it’s worthwhile to write here and the argument intensifies in proportion to the amount of time that elapses between posts. I imagine most people who write online argue with themselves over it. At the end of the day, I value the exercise of putting words to thoughts and this is an enjoyable way of doing that. I credit the long ago days of my blogging when Kurt and I were living a year in London for helping me improve my writing, even if I’d probably cringe reading it now.

After half of June, I’ve come up with a loosely held Summer plan for myself.

May-June: Planting garden beds, yard work, home tasks.

So far I’m having a come back after 2024’s pregnant summer. All of my raised beds are planted, including a large in ground bed of zinnias and cosmos. There was an astronomical amount of leaf clean up and weeding to do this year. I don’t mulch every year and last year was an off-year, so my work was cut out for me.

I really want to finish up my painting projects in the attic. Mainly the trim and Ellie’s built-in (photo for reference below), which I’m sanding and painting blue. It’s unlikely I’ll finish by the end of this month but I’ve made good headway. I’m also doing a 30-day declutter challenge. I like a challenge like this from time to time to help put a finger on areas. I’m also delegating the tasks to kids or at least doing it alongside them.

July: homeschool planning for 25-26.

I’m continuing with CMEC for the 25-26 school year. I really love the curriculum and trust the ladies behind it, which means less substituting of books/materials. I know us home educating mamas like to have our hands in everything and sometimes that means changing gears constantly…I gotta say there’s relief in making an educated choice and sticking with it. I’ll need to breakdown the readings for each term and hope to do all of the breakdowns this Summer instead of term by term throughout the year.

I don’t try to pre-read everything, but I do want to pre-read what my independent reader has for history and science, as well as, pay closer attention to what she’ll be covering in grammar, latin, and geography. But my track record for pre-reading isn’t great. I try not to beat myself up about it because if get 15 minutes truly to myself a day it’s a small miracle. Normally I’m opting to read, workout, or get dressed in those precious few minutes, not read my child’s school books.

August: take a breather and enjoy the end of Summer break.

I know I’ll have stuff left over from July as far as lesson planning goes…I could actually spend my entire summer prepping lessons and doing house work. There’s always more work and sometimes that’s a big bad trap that sucks all the joy and fun out of Summer. I really do want to set aside perfectionism this Summer, and August seems to be a pain point in that regard. I dread the end of Summer because I haven’t accomplished all the things, including enjoying Summer! It’s silly and annoying. I want to do the best I can with the time I have, using it wisely and accomplishing what I need to, while also accepting that choosing to set aside certain things at certain points with a contented, “that’ll do”, is healthy and life-giving.

I never hear seasoned homeschool moms, or parents in general, share regrets of not accomplishing more. Normally regrets are to the tune of, I wish I had relaxed and trusted God more; I wish I had spent more time having fun with my kids, etc. So it appears knowing how to rest, enjoy your family and the summers you have with them, requires saying no to other good or “productive” activities.

In a similar vein, I’ve been trying to mentally track down where I read or heard it said that every relationship, like a yard, has a junk pile and that it’s important to not spend all of your time in the junk pile. Instead, most of it should be spent enjoying the beautiful parts of your yard. I translated this idea to: every relationship, like a home, has a junk drawer. It’s important to address the junk drawer in increments, you can’t ignore it all together and expect it to go away or magically organize, but you also shouldn’t live your life obsessing and feeling hopeless over your junk drawer.

I like this analogy a lot. It helps do away with the perception that good relationships are problem free. I haven’t met anyone who doesn't have a junk drawer. All relationships have problems, and perhaps it’s the healthy ones that’ve simply figured out the right frequency in which to deal with the problem areas while simultaneously not allowing the knowledge of those problems to eclipse the good. After all, junk drawers exist because they can be closed.

A few other things:

1. I saw this list of 100 Practical Life Skills that Every 18-Year-Old Should Have and I felt pretty good about what my 11 year old can do right now. Maybe some of you need to read it just for a boost of confidence, ha. In a home-centered family life it certainly seems that many of the items should have naturally occurred by say, 10 years of age. Interestingly, the first comment on the post reads, “Agree in theory. In practice, most people won’t acquire these skills until they’re 30.” Yikes! But I’d say more important than knowing your 18 year old could check each item off on such a list, is knowing that they could, without undo confusion or panic, figure out what needs to be done when various situations present themselves. That ability speaks more to one’s disposition than their hard skill set.

2. I completed Tolstoy’s, War & Peace! Yes, I know it was meant to be a year-long slow read, but for better or worse, I can be an all or nothing kind of gal. Plus the book was so good, I just wanted to keep reading. I did as combo of reading the hardcopy and listening on audio, which did help me push through the longer war and philosophizing bits. I think this book is going to live in my brain forever. I find myself muling over the last epilogue on free will and thinking about Natasha, Nikolai, and Andre on the regular. Life really is unpredictable and the depths of human nature not easily grasped, a theme I’ve identified in the book. How apt the verse, “He maketh His sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust.” One of my friends who also read it this year says she sees forgiveness a main theme. For anyone else who’s read or is reading W&P, I enjoyed the BBC TV series. It’s a great treat after reading, and so is this nerdy bumper sticker.

3. Ok, here’s the poem that really struck me this past month, so much so that I printed and taped it above my kitchen sink.

   Immanence
   by Evelyn Underhill
   

   I come in the little things,
   Saith the Lord;
   Not borne on morning wings
   Of majesty; but I have set my feet
   Amidst the delicate and bladed wheat
   That springs triumphant in the furrowed sod—
   There do I dwell, in weakness and in power;
   Not broken or divided, said our God!
   In your straight garden plot I come to flower;
   About your porch my vine,
   Meek, fruitful, doth entwine,
   Waits, at the threshold, Love's appointed hour.
   
   I come in the little things,
   Saith the Lord;
   Yea, on the glancing wings
   Of eager birds, the soft and pattering feet
   Of furred and gentle beasts, I come to meet
   Your hard and wayward heart. In brown bright eyes
   That peep from out the brake, I stand confest.
   On every nest
   Where feathery Patience is content to brood
   And leaves her pleasure for the high emprise
   Of motherhood—
   There does my Godhead rest.
   
   I come in the little things,
   Saith the Lord;
   My starry wings I do forsake,
   Love's highway of humility to take;
   Meekly I fit my stature to your need.
   In beggar's part
   About your gates I shall not cease to plead
   As man, to speak with man
   Till by such art
   I shall achieve my immemorial plan;
   Pass the low lintel of the human heart.

I lift up my eyes to the hills-- where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth. — Psalm 121:1-2

Life is not about chasing mountain top experiences. And yet, the Lord does provide them, and perhaps, if you’re a mother, you could stand to have more. It seems to me they often come when you’ve stepped outside of your modus operandi and made space by saying no to something else.

Last week I decided to set aside my schedule to visit with a friend and enjoy her beautiful property at the height of Spring. We went on a walk with the kids and sat around her dining table to nature journal. Honestly, it was the single best decision I made all week. Such a simple deviation brought clarity, joy, and renewed strength for other areas of life. I just needed a walk among the bluebells to remember God’s goodness and re-envision my ideals as a wife, mother, and home educator.

I wonder, am I not saying yes enough to moments like these? When the weeks stretch on and the homeschool table is a place of tears. When I feel stuck. Maybe God is just outside in the woodland, waiting for me. If I think success is pushing, striving, fighting, so much so that I fail to stop and admire the Trillium and Poet’s Narcissus, something’s wrong.

Life is not all bad, all hard. Maturity is accepting the cross God gives you, but it’s also believing the battle is won. There’s a lot of freedom in, on the one hand, embracing responsibility, and on the other hand, resting in the hope of Christ. It’s a warning sign when things become all striving. A change is called for. Maybe it’s a big change but often it’s a small one, like putting off dishes or lessons to get out of doors. I find I rarely know which one it is until I’ve tried the small one first. A tiny step of faith. A hand outstretched for help.

Moments enjoying beauty draw us out of our hardships and are God’s way of nourishing us. Him saying, Look, see all this beauty! It’s always here, no matter what. So am I. Grace is given in the form of a bird call, the breeze on your face, the laugh of your child.

I love A. E. Housman’s poem, Loveliest of Trees, it really encapsulates how I’m feeling about Spring this year.

Loveliest of Trees

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
And stands about the woodland ride
Wearing white for Eastertide.

Now, of my threescore years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.

And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.

Blessed Eastertide friends!

I have come home at last! This is my real country! I belong here. This is the land I have been looking for all my life, though I never knew it till now. The reason why we loved the old Narnia is that is sometimes looked a little like this. Bree-hee-hee! Come further up, come further in!
C.S. Lewis, The Last Battle

1. Large pillowy snow flakes are descending outside my window as I write today. That might have dismayed me if it weren’t for the snowdrops first discovered this week, or the daffodils (Trader Joe’s) on my mantle and dining room table. I know in my bones that Spring is on her way. I'm enjoying the winter scene and resting in the knowledge that in a few weeks there will be more sunlight and more tiny green shoots to adore.

   

   

2. I hope your Lent is off to a blessed start. Perhaps you’ve already carved out space to contemplate the season and how you can go "further up and further in”. Maybe you haven’t, and to that I say, it’s ok and it’s not too late. Lent brings an opportunity to see more clearly and embrace more fully Christ and his upside-down Kingdom. It doesn’t have to be complicated.

   
   Leila’s idea of Amiability as a goal this Lent did not fall on deaf ears over here. Handling my family with more kindness is something I really want to grow in. I also think a sermon on Luke 5:1-11 given at my church, entitled, The Call of Our Lord, is a fitting one for contemplating the Lenten pilgrimage and how one act of obedience can lead to a deeper life with Christ.

   

   

   

3. Since we moved our three girls up into their new attic room we’ve gained an extra bedroom. We think the room would have originally served as a sort of open common space at the second floor landing, but at some point it was enclosed and is now an awkwardly shaped bedroom due to the turret. We’ve used it as a nursery in the past since fitting a full-sized bed is difficult. Now we plan to keep it as a multi-purpose room: a permanent sewing area for me (no more taking over the dining room table!), with an armchair for reading. It can also be an additional guest space when friends come with children. I found a $20 draw leaf table for sewing, and while it may be from the 80’s, I think I can make it work with the look I’m going for. I want to re-paint the room at some point, and we have work to do on the windows, but I’m excited already. The photo above serves as a “before”.

   

4. My sister signed me up for her one year snail mail subscription and I received the first letter this week. It was lovely. I believe she will be adding a month to month subscription option soon.

   

5. I’ve struggled for years, despite all of my efforts, with muffin tins that everything sticks to. This is particularly annoying given my weekly breakfast rotation that includes popovers. A friend put me on to the USA pans and they are perfection! You don’t have to butter or spray them at all. Photo of recent bagels because I also bought the baking sheets.

1. I’m in book four of War and Peace now, or ~20 hours in. I’ve been doing a combination of reading my hardcopy and listening on Audible. I’m loving the story and finally sorting out all of the various characters in my head. I’m amazed at Tolstoy’s ability to make every personality so believable. I’m really enjoying ’s Footnotes and Tangents, especially his weekly podcast episodes which recap each chapter and draw out their various themes. It also helps to know so many of my friends also jumped into reading this mammoth book over the course of 2025.
   
   For Lent I’m re-reading Anne White’s, Giving Ourselves, which is based on Charlotte Mason’s volume, Ourselves. I’m also listening to The Anxious Generation, because I can only hear so many people talk about a book before I give in to reading it.

That’s all for now friends. Happy Sunday!

I once shared here about my success with meal planning a month at a time. It taught me how to conceptualize the meals we enjoy, how to diversify our menu (let’s not have chicken four times a week), what pantry items are my “staples”, and what I need to buy weekly or less frequently in bulk. But after a little over a year of planning monthly menus I decided to stop. It’s not that I’ll never do it again, but my meal planning served it’s purpose in that it taught me foresight, knowledge about our preferences and habits, and showed me which work patterns set me up for success. I’ve integrated the new skills into a work flow that’s better for me. Here’s what’s helping get meals on the table these days, even with a newborn and sometimes not knowing what I’m going to make until that day:

1. The deep freezer! I keep it stocked with meat from a meat box subscription, butter, cheese, frozen Costco veggies and fruit.

2. Keeping a bulk supply of dry goods. Flour, rice, oats, beans, etc.

3. Don’t be fancy. I love creative baking and cooking, but waiting for inspiration back fires more often than not. 90% of the time, I need to keep it simple. Some combination of meat, veggie, bread or other starch. Some nights are the same each week: Friday = pizza — whether frozen, homemade, or carry out. (I typically serve it with steamed broccoli.)

4. It’s got to be on the table in 30 minutes. I choose recipes that can be made in a short amount of time and I’ve cleared out my recipe binder and cookbook stash to support that.

It appears half the battle for me is having what I need on hand. If I succeed in that, I don’t really need to know which day I’m making what. I can simply pull what I need and go. I used to under shop. I would look at what I put in my cart and almost have a sense of guilt, or at least shock, at what was needed. That really works against you when your family is growing not shrinking. Now I shop in order to rotate through bulk supplies and buy fresh items weekly. The items I do hope to increasingly cut from our shopping are pre-packaged convenience foods.

It’s relieving to realize that my personality not jiving with carefully crafted schedules and check lists is not actually a problem. It’s true across the board too. For example, I don’t have cleaning schedules or a “laundry day”. I try to integrate my cleaning tasks into every day, all day. It’s basically what I’ve heard described as “do the next right thing”. Instead of waiting, I just do what I needs being done as soon as possible and normally on my way to other things (pick up item at bottom of stairs, carry it up…etc.). This approach may sound exhausting and all consuming, but actually it takes up less brain space. I don’t have to plan for it and then make sure I follow the plan, I just do it. My day is full but at the end I can normally enjoy the evening without spending up to an hour completing tasks I never “checked off”.

Of course, as things go, some of my kids seem to thrive with the motivation a check list can give. So I do allow and help them create their own. Enlisting them more has been a goal of mine recently. Gaging how responsible kids can and should be in their various stages is surprisingly challenging for me as a parent. Not to mention being the enforcer of whatever standard I choose.

I’ve enjoyed finding ways to work more efficiently too. I pretend it’s a sort of game. For example, Leila wrote about working from one side of the room to the other and I’ve taken that up. I unload my groceries and clear my counters differently now too. I try to find ways to do more with fewer steps (literally). Honestly, if you can turn cleaning into a game it’s always better. Sometimes we put on a song or timer and see how much we can do before it ends.

Anyway, this is what’s working for me right now. I’d love to hear other ideas and homemaking success stories from type B personalities! When you feel stuck and need some fresh inspiration or insight it can be good to try things that run counter to your natural bent. But ultimately, maintainable success is perhaps best found when you find a strategy that works with your natural bent.

I ask not for any crown
But that which all may win;
Nor try to conquer any world
Except the one within.
Louisa May Alcott

I didn’t write in January, so I’ll give a little re-cap of what was quite an eventful month here.

We kicked off the new year with a trip to the ER. A first time experience for our family. Imagine us, a new family of seven quickly departing our home and leaving behind a scene that can only be described as apocalyptic. Half eaten plates of pancakes still on the table, the kitchen in the state one’s kitchen is in when the children are in charge of the breakfast cooking and you’ve largely been confined to your bedroom upstairs enjoying newborn snuggles. You see, I had recently come down with a fever and lower abdominal pain and to rule out appendicitis or some birth related complication our midwife recommended an urgent care or ER visit. Take note, dear friends, if you’re two weeks postpartum, urgent care will not see you. They will instead send you promptly to the ER. Also take note, the ER will not permit your children in the waiting room. (In retrospect, it makes sense, but in the moment was tricky,…what does one do with five children at the drop of a hat? Of course, this is more easily remedied if you have family who live in town.)

An ultrasound and CT scan later it was determined that I had “Retained Products of Conception” aka an infection due to tissue left in my uterus. I’ve had five home births, and besides the first couple days following my own entry into the world, I have never stayed over night in a hospital…so to learn I’d need a D&C procedure was initially quite jarring. At the same time, it was really interesting to experience the hospital side of things and I marveled at how well oiled of a machine hospital care can be. I’m very grateful for modern medicine and that I did not succumb to, “Puerperal Fever”, like the many women before me who birthed prior to germ theory and the advent of antibiotics. These experiences have a way of humbling you and bringing fresh perspective on life. I can also now laugh at all the jokes women make about how often nurses come into your hospital room in the middle of the night.

So, that was the first part of January. I’m still not fully recovered but life has kept on keeping on. Peregrin is such a joy to all of us. My kids are convinced no other baby has ever lived as cute as he. We decided to finally move the girls into their little women attic and they are loving it. We still have a list of projects we’re chipping away at up there. I’ve been painting trim a soft green and sewing linen curtains for their windows. I began reading Tolstoy’s, War and Peace, with my mom, sisters, and a whole slew of friends. We also potty trained a child, something always worth celebrating.

February is off to a more normal feel. We enjoyed a visit from my mom. We made our annual late winter trip to the conservatory in the city. As of this week we’re back to our regular full lesson schedule. We’re roughly on week five of our second term. I can sense already that the kids like having their brains worked a bit more and there’s less fighting during the day.

When you are postpartum people ask about details they wouldn’t otherwise: How are you sleeping? Recovering? Is your baby an easy one? How is everyone adjusting? Do you have help? I’m pretty sure I’ve responded mostly with “hanging in there” or “it’s a lot but good.” A couple of Sunday’s ago a sweet older woman asked and I replied, “It’s abundance.” It just sort of came to me. “A lot” doesn’t communicate much and can read like a complaint. Truly, it’s abundance, defined “plentifulness of the good things of life.” Abundance of any sort can still be hard to manage, but you’re grateful to be gifted with so much. A lot of noise or mess in my home means there’s life in my home. A lot of people in my home means I’m blessed. I need that shift in my thinking. Abundance. That one word helps frame this season of life.

A few other things

1. I’m a nostalgist, but I received a robot vacuum for Christmas and it has changed my life. We went big and got a high end one and honestly I feel like I’m cheating at homemaking to have something else cleaning my floors. This is your sign.

2. Footnotes & Tangents’ year long slow read of War & Peace was what inspired me to attempt the mammoth book. It’s proving to be quite an enjoyable read and especially fun to be doing it with so many people. I say February is not too late to jump in.

3. I’m currently re-reading, How to Think, by Alan Jacobs. I first read it in 2020, a year that certainly called for a “survival guide for a world at odds.” When witnessing the spectrum of responses to the election results, I decided it was time to revisit it. He’s a wonderful, witty, and accessible writer. I can see myself handing the book to my children when they’re teenagers. He writes, “When we do not know, or we do not know enough, we tend always to substitute emotions for thoughts.”

These quiet slow weeks with a tiny new baby are to be savored at all costs. They are irreplaceable. I love the natural pause the holidays bring — no extracurriculars or events — it’s the perfect buffer for our transition. Previously I considered December likely a difficult month to have a baby in but now I’m an advocate for it.

I never really thought I’d have five kids. Even despite my bouts of sensory overload, which are particularly heightened postpartum, I am so glad our lives have brought us here. It’s true that we don’t get to pick our kids like we pick our spouse; there’s truly an element of not knowing what you’re going to get. But it’s a profound gift to get to discover each of them. I’ve done some wrestling over the last few years with the number of kids question. I’m not convinced there’s a clear cut over-arching answer for how to come to these decisions…but I do know God’s plans are higher than our own, not always easier, or even happier, but truly good.

I’ve begun to reflect upon the last year but it’s difficult. 2024 feels somewhat like a black hole. I think pregnancy does that to me,…I’d like to be one of those people who are unfazed by pregnancy but I do find it pretty consuming mentally and emotionally. I know that I did carry on by necessity with everything we had going, but alas, 2024 will go down as “a pregnant year”. Or at least that’s how it’s registering for me now. Maybe as I continue to take stock of the year I’ll be able to remind myself of everything else that also transpired.

I’m really looking forward to 2025 and I’m seized with a lot of optimism right now. My brain has regained real-estate to think about all the things — the books I plan to read, the little women attic space we are finishing up and moving the girls into the next month or so, how I’m going to get outside more for walks, maybe even pick up nature journaling again. A true indication of my optimism is that I’ve decided to read War and Peace with my sisters and mom and a whole score of ladies in my homeschool community. A chapter a day for a whole year! Here’s where the idea came from.

That’s all for now friends. I will now retreat to snuggling my baby and trying to calming manage children who’re stir crazy because it’s been raining for three days. Happy new year!