tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88706382223880239382026-03-02T16:15:07.330-05:00Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02983747923969997503noreply@blogger.comBlogger833125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8870638222388023938.post-8016693705149245172016-11-19T14:31:00.000-05:002016-11-19T14:34:34.271-05:00

Ginger became part of our family last March when Joel, in his words was, "Trying to push up the bid to help bring in more money for our local Pheasants Forever group." Mmmm-hmmmm. So, on the very night that I had informed my children that when Ellie, our chocolate lab, passed on we would not be getting another dog, we came home with another dog.  Now I have another walking companion who

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02983747923969997503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8870638222388023938.post-20019818849067490292016-10-21T11:36:00.001-04:002016-10-21T11:36:59.940-04:00

Lauren and I have been reading a book called The Sign of the Beaver for history.  I didn't realize how much she was enjoying it until a few days ago when a Native American village began to take shape in our yard. Jacob helped her to make a bow and some arrows from some small branches.  She also fashioned a spear and began collecting wood for a fire and another tepee. She asked me to

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02983747923969997503noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8870638222388023938.post-82815629223732428802016-10-20T07:58:00.000-04:002016-10-20T07:58:33.053-04:00

Remembering September with a little collage today because... well just because I meant to do it in September and now it is October. And October is more than half over and yeah that's kind of how my fall is going. I blinked.

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02983747923969997503noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8870638222388023938.post-35701312367788437112016-10-05T14:17:00.001-04:002016-10-05T14:17:43.070-04:00

Over the past year I have been working on documenting our life in photos.  I, of course,  have always taken photos of our family events, but this is story telling. The writer in me rejoices in finding another way to express my thoughts and feelings.  Documentary photography pushes me to look for the details,

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02983747923969997503noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8870638222388023938.post-52136205803739843772016-09-28T13:44:00.000-04:002016-09-28T13:44:12.152-04:00

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02983747923969997503noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8870638222388023938.post-79404181506550237102016-07-15T15:58:00.001-04:002016-07-15T15:58:42.352-04:00

 With all three of my boys on a missions trip in Kentucky it was pretty quite around here.  I did a lot less cooking, dish washing, and laundry.  Lauren and I went berry picking and picked 15 lbs between the two of us.  It was super hot and we tried to go as fast as possible.  I took a few photos with my phone, but we were on a mission to get out of the sun.  So

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02983747923969997503noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8870638222388023938.post-84406146199957088042016-07-13T08:06:00.000-04:002016-07-13T21:16:13.103-04:00

Retreat. That is often my gut response. Life is crazy. Retreat.  I'm uncomfortable.  Retreat.  You are misunderstanding me.  Retreat. The funny thing is I never want to see my self as complaisant.  The very word makes me shudder, yet if I am bombarded or overcome or stressed, I run. I seek shelter and close myself in. Ha.  How ironic that I am often exactly

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02983747923969997503noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8870638222388023938.post-44864690548658405652016-04-29T17:51:00.000-04:002016-04-29T17:51:37.603-04:00

When warm days come in April we spend every minute we can outdoors after dinner. There is bike riding and Frisbee throwing, garden tending and dancing. And when the sun starts to kiss the tops of the trees and the wood burner exudes big plumes of smoke that drift low, I rush inside to grab my camera. There are perfect memories taking place in my yard involving a puppy with a pink Frisbee

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02983747923969997503noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8870638222388023938.post-47172499555455319092016-02-13T09:24:00.000-05:002016-02-13T09:26:25.937-05:00

I've known since she was an infant that she was slightly behind.  She didn't smile for a long time or even respond when we talked to her.  Help was suggested. We took it. After a year she graduated out of the program. She was smiling and responding, beginning to communicate. At age five, when I began teaching her the sounds of the alphabet I knew that there was a possibility of her

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02983747923969997503noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8870638222388023938.post-20935227763882592342015-11-25T15:38:00.001-05:002015-11-25T15:38:27.837-05:00

I don't think I can even better these photographs with words.  I look at this moment captured in photos and a little laugh, pride, thankfulness, and a smidgen of a sob combine into one sound that is indescribable. Words. Words can't capture what took place on an evening a couple weeks back. It was growing up, emotion, and life lessons. These

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02983747923969997503noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8870638222388023938.post-76872840275018396962015-11-12T11:37:00.000-05:002015-11-12T11:37:03.969-05:00

At the end of August I purchased 6 new hens from a friend.  They were about 2 months old and she warned me that I could very well end up with some roosters.  It's hard trying to separate the girls from the guys at that stage in the game. We did our best, as we raced around her chicken run, to pick out the ones that looked like they weren't standing up to tall and lean like a

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02983747923969997503noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8870638222388023938.post-48052975351062924482015-10-08T17:44:00.000-04:002015-10-08T17:47:23.094-04:00

We took one final trip last month; a parting hurrah for summer.  Since it was technically fall it felt good to pretend we were still in summer, even if it was only for the weekend. We got our vintage camper all spiffed up packed it very lightly (which we laughed about later because we felt like novice campers, which we aren't) and set out for a weekend of just being together.

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02983747923969997503noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8870638222388023938.post-19431951010153306002015-09-12T16:07:00.000-04:002015-09-12T16:12:51.103-04:00

Every winter I pour over the pages of various seed catalogs looking for something new or unique to plant. Last spring I planted Aunt Molly's Ground Cherries.  I wasn't absolutely sure what I would do with them, but I was game for trying out something different. Many people love to eat them out of hand.  My family.... not so much.  That saddened me a bit, but after some

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02983747923969997503noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8870638222388023938.post-60301812959736241282015-09-04T15:40:00.001-04:002015-09-04T15:40:29.400-04:00

Our second week of school has come to a close.  Next week we will be minus one.  Isaac will be starting college and I will be teaching only three. It has been an interesting two weeks. Not so much because of school.  We just sort of fall into the routine.  It's what we do after fourteen years of learning together. The interesting comes

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02983747923969997503noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8870638222388023938.post-10344373494895223522015-08-18T10:22:00.000-04:002015-08-18T10:22:32.516-04:00

The wind blows briskly. You adjust and pin your wet, fresh from the washer, sheets.  The scent of soap mixed with hot summer swirls around us as you make yourself a little hideaway. The perfection and beauty of the scene playing out before me slams my heart into my throat.  Words get swept away with the breeze and all I can do is capture this moment.

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02983747923969997503noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8870638222388023938.post-17961523010862855232015-07-22T08:09:00.000-04:002015-07-22T09:27:35.333-04:00

I need to grab hold of this truth with a death grip, instead of holding it like it is a pretty butterfly. I need to pound it into my soul, instead of giving it flight. I need to trust. Kick out the doubts and stand upon the promise that He is a Good, GOOD God. And dance. I need to dance. Time to kick off the cement shoes and dance in the freedom that this verse is saturated with. *

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02983747923969997503noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8870638222388023938.post-66118374298377365982015-07-15T09:35:00.000-04:002015-07-15T09:35:15.575-04:00

One of my favorite things to do is pick the Black Raspberries that grow in the fence rows and woods of my dad’s property.   Words can’t accurately capture the beauty, the peace, the contentment that comes from wandering back into this wonderland.  Then to top it off I get to take along one of my best berry pickers and the excitement she displays when she finds a flower she has

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02983747923969997503noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8870638222388023938.post-26445984427072268862015-07-06T06:44:00.000-04:002015-07-06T06:44:28.862-04:00

Shhhh… Stop and listen.  No words. Quiet. Watch. Breathe in deep. Colors fly. Scents diffuse. Winds tickle. Beauty reigns….   In my quiet place there is joy. There is God.

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02983747923969997503noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8870638222388023938.post-39555237713682189432015-06-23T08:00:00.000-04:002015-06-23T08:02:12.515-04:00

You step, you twirl.  You glide and you dance. You move across the floor of life and another year floats by.   I hold you close these days.  Take every opportunity to snuggle.  I breathe in deep the scent of you, burying my face in your hair or wiggling my nose into your neck until you erupt into giggles.  I know these moments are fleeting.  Before

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02983747923969997503noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8870638222388023938.post-91098931084327352062015-06-16T10:40:00.001-04:002015-06-16T10:41:05.468-04:00

One of my raised beds is abundantly happy, with Red Russian Kale, Siberian Dwarf Kale, Bright Lights Swiss Chard, Bloomsdale Longstanding Spinach, Romaine, Oakleaf lettuce and Freckles leaf lettuce. So much so, that I can’t keep up with it.  I am picking every other day and giving away bags upon bags of lettuce and eating HUGE salads for both lunch and dinner. And this,

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02983747923969997503noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8870638222388023938.post-47318391937208708152015-06-12T08:59:00.000-04:002015-06-12T09:02:15.238-04:00

Isaac, How do I capture the last eighteen years in black strokes that appear on a white screen?  How do I express all the emotions and thoughts I have for you with mere words? I’m in over my head.  The words tumble in my head and jumble up in my heart. In a moment you went from my little boy to a man.   The years flew and transformed us all. And here we are

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02983747923969997503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8870638222388023938.post-1967392664980297632015-06-05T06:57:00.001-04:002015-06-05T06:57:30.035-04:00

  I remember the first day I saw you, just in passing, in the fellowship hall at church.  Four years ago our eyes met.  I stared.  My heart leapt and immediately I knew God had a plan for us. I had to get to know you! I had to know what was behind those beautiful blue eyes that pulled at my heart so desperately. I must have seemed like a stalker at first, finding every

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02983747923969997503noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8870638222388023938.post-1906063727306332972015-06-03T07:12:00.001-04:002015-06-03T07:12:42.900-04:00

  Today I walked along the path that hugs the edge of our woods.  It’s a little mown trail with wild flowers and a few sneaky brambles. It’s a dividing line between  the laziness of the prairie grasses and the mysteries of the wood.     It’s May in Michigan and the promise of spring finally holds true. A deep breath in confirms it.     The scent of wet soil,

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02983747923969997503noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8870638222388023938.post-41390074602354080892015-04-18T16:09:00.001-04:002015-04-18T16:17:36.451-04:00

        Life around here is never dull. Never. I, in a state of lead-filled limbs and numb brain, declared I was going to lay down on the couch for thirty minutes so that I could hopefully gain back an ounce of invigorating energy.  I needed to clean the bathrooms after all and with three boys well… let’s just say it takes some scrubbing and not just a little of

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02983747923969997503noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8870638222388023938.post-63529617176082732392015-04-18T07:47:00.001-04:002015-04-18T07:47:29.661-04:00

  Day 92/365:  Moss and Lichen always grab my attention. I love the smallness and intricate detail of  lichens which represent a symbiotic relationship between a fungus and an alga or cyanobacterium.  And the moss…. well anything green this time of year makes me stop and praise my Creator.   Day 93/365: Exploring the swamp and woods.   Day 94/365:   Day 95/

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02983747923969997503noreply@blogger.com1