you are sacred
The mud is deep here on the homestead. The frost reluctant to release it’s hold on the depths of soil beneath dormant grasses, beneath feet. The top layers of the earth have given into the sun’s relentless boldness and softened to accommodate the new found warmth, but below, deep within the frost still holds tightly to it’s grip on…
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What is it that you desire? What brings you joy? What would you like to spend more time, and energy on, or what would you love to spend your time doing? These are some of the questions we should ask of ourselves, daily, weekly, monthly, yearly perhaps as we begin a new cycle again. Taking…
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As darkness slowly gives way to gradual light this morning, the second kettle of the day sends it’s shrill whistle near bursting at the seams, steam and holler permeates the quiet stillness that surrounds. Snow gently floats from sky above to touch the receiving earth waiting below. The hens are playing it safe, staying within the confines of the cozy coop,…
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Time spent in gardens and barns reminds me deeply of who I am. Nurturing seeds, encouraging growth, gently allowing the season to unfold before my eyes in the garden brings joy with the arrival of each new, in season fruit, veggie, or herb. The sweet nuzzle of Ms. Coco during the morning milking mingling with the smells…
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Find Joy. Take the less traveled road. Seek Balance. Breathe Deep. Seize the Moment. Eat Well, Be Well. Play Outside. Create. Dive In.
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Perhaps it is the way the morning mist gently gave way to softly nudging light through the windows this morning that makes me pause reflective before diving into the week. It is the quiet of the morning hours as I watch chickens dutifully and tirelessly comb the lawn and gardens for tasty intruders, that I…
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When life gives you lemons are you gonna make lemonade? That was my question the other day, as I was on the verge of making nearly 400 mini cheesecakes for a friend’s sons’ grad party, and discovered that my kitchen sink would no longer drain– at.all. Sink full of mucky water wishfully left to drain…
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“I went into the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.”
~Henry David Thoreau
This favorite quote came to mind this morning as I prepared to walk into the woods to check on the maple trees. It will soon be time for the sap to start flowing, as spring begins to press in. Temps are finally above freezing for a couple of days, and the forecast for the week is promising. As I write, big, full, round drops of melted snow make a rhythm of their own falling from the roof. Soft, staccato plays on crystalline snow crusts that form all around the homestead. The rhythm matches that of my heart and plays for spring.
Mapling takes us out of the comfort of wood-fired homes and into the woods. The daily walks chatting with chickadees who are happy to feel the sunshine in fluffed feathers mirrors my own happiness in feeling the sun on glistening halos of hair, and warming rosy cheeks as we trek on the maple trail, checking for signs of spring.
The sun rises swiftly as I open my heart to learn what nature has to teach this season. Living close to Creation’s circular seasons, feeling her rhythms allows for a deeper understanding of grace birthed through creative life, through living with intention, as I walk in moccasin clad feet feeling the weight sinking into crusty snow, hopeful heart filling, swelling with burgeoning possibility, the maple trail heading into the woods.
Wholehearted. In the remaking of my blog I was contemplating letting go of my subtitle, my meaning of what this blog was when I started writing nearly two years ago. After all, we grow and change, maybe this no longer fits my mission, my statement, my purpose. Maybe its not glamorous enough, or maybe it is the…
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Winds roar whipping whirling dervishes against panes as we cozy up on the homestead in blizzard conditions. Somewhere in the distance I can hear the barn door banging in the wind, as treetops bend. ‘Tis the season for homemade afghans cocooning, woolen socks and mittens for toasty toes and fingers. All are shored up tight, riding out the…
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wendy snobl 