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First Day of Spring
Today marks the first day of a new spring. It brings to mind gardens and hikes, sunshine and warmth. As I write the wind howls and rain slaps my windows. I walked out to the garden area yesterday and had to step carefully. One wrong move and I could lose a shoe in the mud. And that’s just our yard.
So, today marks the change of season, and even though we don’t see the ideal picture here in Oregon, spring still brings hope. There will be betters days. Winter has to come to an end, even here. And there are signs. The grass is growing because the temperatures have begun to rise. Soon my yard will be a jungle. The grass always gets out of control while we wait for the ground to dry up enough to mow.
Lambs race after each other in our pasture. Geese make their way north with short rests in the field next to us. We have daffodils popping up all over our property. The camellias are in bloom, and even the bleeding hearts are starting to grow again.
Life moves on. And thank God for that!
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Busy, busy, busy…
There’s been no time to blog. Those Genesis entries need to be in this weekend. Technically, I think we have until March 2, but the Genesis rulers have requested that entries are in by the 26th to avoid the dreaded Cyber-monster who eats up the most important of our email and leaves the spam untouched.
You’d think I’d be ready by now. I do this every year.
Nope!
Writing isn’t an art that ever finds a definite point of finality. Every manuscript can be made better. I can be completely satisfied then look at the page again two weeks later and see a whole new crop of weaknesses.
It’s not just me. I could send the same ten pages to my critique group for years, and I’d never have them say, “Yep. Now it’s perfect.” Isn’t that great? They keep pushing for better.
So, I’m off to tear apart that first scene again. For some reason, it’s not right.
And I only have a couple days to figure out why.
I’m blessed to be busy.
What are you working on today?
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Look what’s new on the farm…
There’s a lot happening around here. Not long after the flood waters dropped, the flood of new critters began.
This little guy is the only boy we have so far this year. He’s also the darkest and maybe even the cutest.
Here’s my oldest daughter taking a newborn lamb into the barn.
A couple of the earlier lambs playing in the field. These guys are so fun to watch.
This is another new arrival. My oldest son and oldest daughter are raising steers for 4H. They’re attention hogs but oh-so-cute.
Standing in the mud, like every other Oregonian.
Stay tuned. Little piggies will be here next.
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Where Wildflowers Bloom
When I picked up Ann Shorey’s newest book, Where Wildflowers Bloom, I wasn’t expecting to relate to the main character on such a personal level. Faith Lindberg lives just after the Civil War. She’s a single woman running the family mercantile. I’m a modern day farm girl who homeschools, chases the schedules of her four kids and tries to keep her head just above the water. I’m not much for numbers, so managing a store wouldn’t be my best job, but I do love words.
Here’s the thing, it doesn’t matter at which point in history we flash on the scene, we all have to deal with disappointment and decide where that will take us.
For quite a few years now I’ve wished to move, to leave behind the place where I grew up and start fresh with only my immediate family around me. I’ve tossed this idea around for years, but the time has never been right. While my grandmother was alive, I couldn’t leave. Living without her would have been like leaving part of my heart behind. Yes, that sounds corny, but it’s true. Still, even since her death we’ve remained planted in the same soil.
As I read Faith’s story, her need to leave behind her home, the place where she felt the pain of loss sharply, I understood her struggle. Do we brush the dust from our shoes and start over somewhere new, or are we to endure and look for blessings in the place we’ve been planted?
I won’t tell you what Faith chose, but I can say for now we remain here. And thanks to Ann, my perspective is a bit different.
As with all of Ann’s books, I highly recommend Where Wildflowers Bloom.
