this morning

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This morning the girls slept in after a late night at the farm welcoming home the honeymooners.

This morning there are fresh flowers from the garden on my kitchen table, brought in by my husband.

This morning Emma is at the barn, learning that sometimes your responsibilities come before play.

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This morning, there is a breeze coming through my kitchen window.

This morning there is homemade jam and soft butter.

This morning I am kind of looking forward to a day of laundry and clotheslines, tidying and dishes.

This morning, there is a young rooster testing out his new-found voice from the side yard.

this morning...

This morning, everyone is home and heading to the stream to cool off. 

This morning was just the morning I needed.

 

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something more

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Last night we had cereal for dinner. It's that hot.

I started out with grand plans for a summery dinner, but after the few minutes of standing over the stove, dripping in sweat, miserably hot children whining to swim, sticky baby crying to be fed-- I decided enough was enough. 

It was the best decision I made all day.

Today, I write from my spot in the kitchen, the fan blowing directly onto my face. No oscillating. Just full-on breeze. 

We're in a two-day stretch of heat advisories and record-breaking temps. I'm watcing the hourly forecast again. I just need to know how much longer I have to survive. 

But this morning, despite the fact that the temperature inside the house is about the same as the temperature outside of the house, some work still had to be done. 

Normally, I pretty much hustle through a lot of these tasks. But this morning, the chant in my head was to slow down. My motivation was to stay cool, but I noticed the slowing down also began to change my state of mind. 

I'm often racing to accomplish the things that are just a part of my every day routine. As if there's something more or better or more important awaiting me. But most days, this is the better. This is the more. This is the more important. 

I can't believe I'm uttering these words, but today, I'm kind of grateful for this heat wave. For the forced slowing down. For the reminder to relax the pace at which I move through my day. Because these tasks and routines and the people I do them for, are my something more. 

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why we have children

driving home, in the valley

When I got home from exercising last night, I was met at the door by Mary :

Mary : Do you go to the Arena Club to lose weight?

Me (weighing my words carefully, wanting so much to protect them as long as I can from every body conscious thought ) : Well....I go there to exercise.

Mary : Oh. Because boy! Do you ever look skinnier! 

And that, my friends, is why I have children.

Did I ever tell you that Mary is my favorite child?

(Emma, if you're reading this, I'm JUST KIDDING.)

In light of THAT good news, here's some other goodness from around the web...

 Kristen Chase interviewed me about homeschooling on The Pioneer Woman

 Scratch Baking Co.'s Baker's Notes Issue No. 1 : bagels!! my weakness.

 Miss Moss : Farm Fashion ( via amanda ) : I want to look this good chopping wood. (cue my husband's laughter)

 Soulful Mothering with Tara Thayer : I'd like to carry these words around in my pocket

 Dandelion gone to seed : the anticipation makes you hold your breath 

 morning light : I favorite all her kitchen pictures

 These shoes, in green.

✽  Grapegruit Sangria (do you have a good recipe for red or white? Share?!)

The weather is sticky here again. The three H's of summer : hazy, hot and humid. Once the baby wakes up, we're headed to the pool! Happy Wednesday, friends!

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a recipe for sweet relief

Prepare yourself. Now begins the season where I need to discuss the weather constantly. Good-bye Maryland Spring, hello Maryland heat and humidity. We obviously have no air conditioning in this little gem of a farmhouse. I find myself relentlessly checking the weather, the weather maps, the hourly forecast, hoping for a break in temperatures, a drop in humidity, a good strong storm. (And dream about slipping off to an air-conditioned condo in the city. I've said that before, haven't I ?) 

So we learn to make-do and deal with the heat. 

sweaty betty

As little Jane Fonda here can attest, it has been pretty wicked the past several days. I'm in survival mode. I'm not above a sno-cone break in the middle of the afternoon. Cereal for dinner when it's too hot to cook or even eat. 

But one good thing that has come from this recent heat wave is my adaptation and (near) perfection of my grandmother's iced tea recipe. 

a recipe for sweet relief

You must know that the rule in my grandmother's house was that you had to be 13 to drink the tea. It has twice the caffeine and all the sugar, so you practically need a license to drink it. But a glass of that tea, full to the brim, overflowing with ice, is enough to momentarily keep even the worst hazy humidity at bay. 

Now my grandmother had 15 children. Her version of this tea was brewed on the stove top, and poured into a giant stainless steel pitcher in her industrial-sized refrigerator. With the constant flow of children (over 13), visitors and guests, she always kept two pitchers going at the same time. 

Well, my family, with only 2 of-age drinkers, doesn't quite need the same volume of iced tea. 

I also didn't want to boil water. I'm that lazy in this weather. And I wanted to see if I could make a small concentrated version as my starting point. 

So my recipe is your recipe. You can thank me later. 

sweet relief

ICED TEA FOR THE OVER 13 CROWD

Fill a quart canning jar with cold water. 

Add 3 large tea bags. ( I generally use Lipton and the bags I used are the jumbo-sized ones about the size of your palm. But any bag will do, you'll just have to tweak the amount.)

Screw the lid on the jar, securing the bags and set in a sunny spot outside.

Let your tea get a good sun tan. No really, a long steep is critical to this tea. I put mine out in the afternoon and bring it in the next afternoon. Almost a full 24 hour steep. You want it nice and dark.

Remove the bags and dump your tea concentrate plus 2 more quart jars of cold water into a pitcher.

Add 1/2 cup of sugar

Add a generous 3/4ths of a 12 ounce can of frozen lemonade concentrate**

Stir well.

Get a large glass of ice, a sprig of mint and thirst be-gone!

**I hate to waste that last little bit of lemonade concentrate in the bottom of the can. Dump it into your quart jar, fill it up with cold water. Put the lid on and give it a good shake. And take it out to your husband--who's dripping in sweat while chopping wood for WINTER!

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someday is here

someday is here

I hope my mother will weigh in on this, but seriously, can we discuss this picture? I found it when I was going through oldies recently.

This picture was taken at a 4-H meeting that was being held at our farm. The memory still fresh in my brain.

There were people present. People outside of our family. I was in public!

I was standing in front of the 4-H club, seething with jealousy that I wasn't old enough to be a member like my brother and sisters.

I knew I needed a way to be part of the night, to draw some of that focus back to me. I needed drama. What I needed was an attention-grabbing demonstration. I remember the topic I settled on had something to do with how to (ahem), remove a horse's head. (My eldest daughter might disown me if she caught wind of this.)

I remember that stainless steel bowl was full of grass, to serve as a distraction for the horse before head removal.

And of course, one needs a knife to handle this job. A butter knife, of course.

I remember gathering the supplies in the kitchen snickering under my breath at what a comedic genius I was. This was gonna be good!

But mom, can we discuss my outift? The tube top? With my white baby belly hanging out? Were you done fighting battles for the day? Did I sneak off and put it on without your knowledge? Was it so hot that night that you were concerned I might sweat through a normal-sized tshirt that covered more than my upper torso?

I was definitely getting attention. I'm thinking it was for the shirt, not the morbid demonstration.

Funny thing is, I find myself in the trenches of this battle, too. Maybe not tube tops, but I've been known to be seen in public with small children in striped skorts pulled up over jeans with polkda-dot tshirts and wool sweaters. Ballet tutus. Tall black rubber barn boots on the hottest dog days of summer. Children who look like they've been pulled from the pages of a Little House story versus the 21st century.

I can hear the "someday you'll understand" refrain in my head. And I smile at my 6 year-old self. And I give a knowing nod to my mother. Someday is here.

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