The green fabric in the picture above is from my first baby sling. Its a piece of fabric that held all four of my four sweet children as infants close to my chest, where our beating hearts thumped along together. It is where my first was held close as I walked around the block with both the pride and self consciousness of a new mother. I can remember bringing Miles to a park with Lee, when he was just weeks old, lying the sling down to let him sleep in the grass, hoping for a relaxing time doing what I believed parents to do (hang out at playgrounds). He let out a single newborn mew, a mere hint of a cry, and we both got so nervous we all but ran back to our car giggling nervous giggles all the way. When Rowan was born I clearly recall pacing around our neighborhood sidewalk, wandering after Miles trying to soothe this always crying baby. I remember holding him tight in the sling when the pediatricians told me he was underweight and feeling the air get sucked out of me when they insisted I try to give him formula. I did try. He wouldn’t take a bottle, and then that sling was more than a piece of fabric. It was a saving grace, I kept him in tucked in there day and night nursing him, letting my tears fall on his thin baby face, hoping and praying I could just make more milk. And you know, it worked. I once left that sling on a playground somewhere in upstate New York. A kind soul from a restaurant near by retrieved it and held onto it until our return trip, when I could gratefully slide it back over my shoulder. When Jasper was born, I slid him into place behind this now wearing thing piece of green cotton, and we marched through the woods singing, “Hey, hey Jasper Ray, down in the valley-oh! Hey, hey Jasper Ray lookin’ for the chanterelles you know!” This song will likely make us millions I am quite sure of it. And come to think of it, I still am yet to find a chanterelle. Hmm…. And then Willow came along and she spent some time in there, here and there, but she was a ring sling girl mostly and my memories of her as a newborn are mostly in other carriers. But, needless to say they all were there. This piece of fabric clearly needed to continue on. It felt so right to weave it into this egg basket. To have in memorialized underneath pomegranetes and seasonal gourds. To have it tote a handful of acorns or crayons. To let it do its job a little while longer.
My oldest fries me eggs in the morning and is far too big for me to carry. Even our little baby girl is running amok with these wildling boys now. The days are long, the years are short. I reminded of this daily.
44 monarch caterpillars found during our morning walk
10 free hours of daycare. Utilizing the resource for the three-est in th crew and let me tell you, the water is fine.
180 milkings later we are giving back Sorrel, our borrowed Jersey. It has been a summer filled with butter, and surely that alone makes it worthwhile.
16 steps in a row is the record for this little one. Oh time…. why you punish me? (Yeah thats right I quoted hootie and the blowfish)
8 trips around the sun for this sweet cider making dude. I just lowered his ears yesterday and you wouldn’t recognize him, he looks so big.
1 gallon of tart, early cider down the hatch, with surely more to come!
7 hours of grown up time at Free Verse Farm making this amazing Adirondack pack basket. Not shown are the lovely mossy green straps and the soon to be stained version. It really is a useful and fun way to cart around all these wild apples!
2 full weeks of a schedule filled with crafting and chalkboards and math games and romping in the woods. Not back to school is pretty sweet so far.
12 months of slow, methodical, brick laying. My anticipation for the finishing of the outdoor bread oven cannot be contained. But contained it must be! This is nothing to be rushed, and let’s be honest, squeezing in time for mixing cement isn’t an exactly an easy task for a father of four children. But, this guy is doing it- little by little!
Berry season, the time of year where no one is ever lacking something to do. Where even the muggiest afternoon can be pleasantly spent under the forest’s shade, lazily picking thimble berries or slowly maneuvering the blackberry brambles. Of course there is pie to be had and jam to be spread, and those things don’t make themselves either.
The pace of August suits me. We have no far away adventures planned and no classes to attend (minus the everlasting piano- which the outing is something we all enjoy). I have all but begun to ignore my garden, and am dreaming about subtracting a bed next spring. Just for the time being-
Because Willow took her first step this morning. Rowan has his first wiggly tooth. Jasper can ride his balance bike down the steep incline of our driveway while screaming “POOOOP!!!”. Oh, the maternal pride I exude for that milestone. And Miles… he is almost 8, and is currently upstairs devouring Harry Potter and The Sorcerers Stone. Sow a garden, yes that can wait. And the weeds, I hardly mind them. Proof that our time is being spent elsewhere and I am okay with that. There are fallen ash trees to scale, and hikes to be had, and swims to be swum, and doodles to doodle. Yup, we are busy alright.
And of course, cow’s to be milked!