This week he was burning big piles of cedar trees and brush which make impressive short-lasting flames. They are fun to watch, and probably also a little alarming to the neighbors. But all went well.
And then it rained again and the next morning, cows reclined lazily in the ashes as if there hadn’t been 40 foot flames there at all.

While Charlie was gone working, I took the kids to Morrill Hall (our local natural history museum). Light rainfall made our drive pleasant and relaxing; I listened to indie folk music (the only kind of music suitable for thunderstorms) and the babies slept. We’ve been to the “dinosaur museum” so many times, that the kids now have the whole building mapped out in their little heads. Pleistocene era is on the main level. Jurassic on the second. Their favorite room has the giant mammoths and elephants.

Even though I’ve seen the same fossils and skeletons many times, it never fails to amaze me how prolific and varied the life of Nebraska used to be. Camels lived here! Rhinoceroses, mammoths, daeodons (scary looking brutes those were), giant sloths, and massive wolves. Not to mention the dinosaurs.
Last year, the kids got to see some local dinosaur prints. They were the size of dinner plates, casually dotting a large flat rock in the middle of a field.

As a mother to three boys, I have to say, my knowledge and appreciation for prehistoric life has expanded significantly. I’ve read every available library book on dinosaurs, and I’m sure we’ll return to Morrill Hall soon.

But part of motherhood is carving out time for myself. While I enjoy reading to the kids about plesiosaurs and dunkleosteus, I make sure I get to read my book too. Which at the moment is Kristin Lavransdatter by Sigrid Undset.
It is So. Good. And incredibly thick — almost 1,200 pages of masterful writing. In her review of the book, Substack writer Christy Isinger wrote the following:

“Kristin Lavransdatter… is at once a historical epic precisely depicting medieval life in fourteenth century Norway, but also one of the most authentic and accurate novels detailing what it means to be a woman. The interweaving of culture, societal pressures, the intimate relationships of father, daughter, husband and wife, the experience of motherhood in its fullness from birth to death, the depth of the spiritual life, and the cost of personal sin have never been brought together in a single story to such powerful effect.”

In my own humble synopsis, Kristin’s story depicts all the joys, doubts, realities, and hardships of what it means to be human and what it means to follow God and accept his mercy.
If you want to know more about the novel, I highly recommend the following article. Kristin Lavransdatter is, in my belief, an underrated and transformative book.

Sigh No More

AI could never write Kristin Lavransdatter

You may think the title is a nice sentiment. You may think it’s a statement of defiance against the rising AI tide. In fact, it is neither of these things, and what I am setting out to communicate to you is that Kristin Lavransdatter is weird as heck…

Read more

3 months ago · 69 likes · Emily Starr Kwilinski

But now I must sign off, as my children are begging me to ride bikes with them. It’s never a dull moment here! This week could be summarized in three words: “Fire, Dinosaurs, and Norway.” Next week it might well be “Biking, Pizza, and Capybaras.” So stay tuned for that edition.

“She walked as if through a forest. The pillars were furrowed like ancient trees, and into the woods the light seeped, colorful and as clear as song, through the stained-glass windows. High overhead animals and people frolicked in the stone foliage, and angels played their instruments. At an even higher, more dizzying height, the vaults of the ceiling arched upward, lifting the church toward God... The song cut through her like a blinding light.”
― Sigrid Undset, Kristin Lavransdatter

We spent the 4th of July in Missouri. A weekend that is best summarized by singular adjectives:
Green
Sleepless
Adventurous
Sunburnt
Celebratory
Relaxing
Caffeinated
Hot.

Between floating canoes down a river, running my fastest 5k yet, watching fireworks, singing “God Bless America”, drinking coffee at Mom’s house, and perusing my Dad’s native wildflower patch, it was a memorable trip. One which makes us excited to become Missourians once again.

But for the moment, we are still Nebraskans. With one foot in each state, we are navigating the process of listing our house, searching for a rental to move into, crunching numbers over and over again, wondering how people can ever afford to move. That’s the not fun part.
The fun part, is that it’s still summer. And no matter how busy we are, it is still our priority as parents to provide popsicles, pool time, and wholesome adventures for our kids.
Last night, for example, we attended the Jefferson County Fair. A thoroughly Midwest experience if there ever was one. We watched the pig shows for quite a while, admiring the professional showmanship of our local youth as they guided their chunky gilts and barrows through the arena. “I like the shape of her skull,” the judge would say. Or, “This gilt’s chest cracks wide open, I like that. Her hocks could be a bit more square though.”
Next we wandered through the sheep building, touching their soft noses, reveling in the smell of hay and grain and leather halters. A nice FFA student offered our kids cupcakes with sticky melting icing, most of which ended up in Chet’s hair.
Next door were the vegetables and quilts. Corn stalks were judged on height and health, shelves of beets and onions and jams all boasted colorful ribbons. Our whole family admired the grand champion: a zucchini of considerable heft.
Charlie turned to me: "How would you describe a Midwest county fair to someone from say…. inner city Los Angeles?” And I laughed. Because it is indeed a singular experience overflowing with local pride and country values.

To cap off our evening, we bought hotdogs at the concessions and sat on hot bleachers to watch the rodeo.
Team penning, roping and branding, sorting steers… it was all fun to watch. Chet dropped his hotdog underneath the bleachers and made Papa retrieve it for him and brush off the dirt. Then, he lost interest in the rodeo and watched the midget racing going on behind us. Eli and Britta found some friends and ran off to play, and for a moment I felt a lot like Mrs. Arable in Charlotte’s Web.
"Don’t get lost! …
And don’t get dirty! …
Don’t get overheated!” said their mother.”

It was late when we got home; everyone hopped in the bath to wash off the grime and sweat of a successful adventure. “I’m not grimy!” Chet objected. “I’m beautiful!” To which Charlie said “Nice try Chet, you’re still getting a bath.”

The rest of our summer will fly by fast (a trite phrase but true). And through the craziness of selling our home and moving, starting afresh in a new place, I hope we can keep having Midwest adventures. I look forward to many more late nights with fireflies and a glass of iced tea (sweetened of course). Maybe there will even be a few more canoe trips, long hikes, sparklers bombs, and lazy afternoons at the pool.

But.
If we were to share a table and sip our chai lattes slowly, I’d gladly open up and start telling you random snippets from my life. (And listen to your life snippets in return.)
In my scatterbrained fashion, I’d keep you abreast of the silly things my kids say, Charlie’s dirt bagging experience, the latest book I’m reading, and which flowers are blooming in my yard.

Wait. Dirt bagging? Back up.

Yes. My husband is sleeping on a flatbed trailer this week - by choice! He’s working in a rural area so instead of driving to a hotel, he grabbed his tent tarp and rigged a shelter from the rain.

Every morning he climbs to the roof of his truck to get signal and calls me, telling me about the pattering of rain on his tarp, the chorus of birdsong, the can of peaches he ate for breakfast. I love that these things bring him joy.

My mornings by comparison are quite domestic. Let the dogs out, feed the starling, make a pot of oatmeal for the kids. Begin home school. These are things which bring me joy. I make sure I am fully resourced for the day with my cup of tea and a chapter from John. Then I set to the important work of teaching my kids.
Right now, teaching them is easy because they soak up absolutely everything around them. Their voracious little minds can’t get enough of the world through books, pictures, friends, nature, and good food.

Eli is currently obsessed with building complex irrigation systems in our backyard. I’m pretty sure the Fairbury water conservation order is mostly because of us, because the hose is left running so often. Right now, Eli has a copper pipe running from the spigot into a corrugated downspout. The downspout empties into the winter sled, and the sled overflows onto the patio where Eli has a series of boards and bricks guiding the flow of water into a muddy little reservoir.
When he finished setting everything up, he stood back (hands on hips) and said with great satisfaction: “Now that is QUITE the system!”
Systems bring Eli joy.

When we aren’t at home, we are usually found riding bikes or hiking. Both experiences bring the kids such a sense of achievement and adventure, so the hassle of hauling bikes and remembering things like Band-Aids and bug-spray are worth it.
When we encounter other hikers on the trail, they see my herd of dogs and children and quickly step aside to let the congregation of gregarious locals pass by.
On one memorable walk, Chet grabbed my hand and said: “Mom, I love hiking.” To which Eli said: “I love hiking as long as there’s lunch involved.”

Our chai latte’s are almost finished. The morning wanes and it’s time to leave our cozy corner in the coffee shop.
But wait! Before you leave, tell me what books you have been reading! What inspiring quotes or resonating poems have you encountered? (Comment below!)
I’ve been reading a smorgasbord of genres, but my recent favorites are:
1. “Everything Sad is Untrue” by Daniel Nayeri
2. “With Thanks to the Field Sparrow, Whose Voice is so Delicate and Humble” by Mary Oliver
3. “Child of the World” by Susan Mayclin Stephenson
4. and “Kristin Lavransdatter” by Sigrid Undset (which is a dauntingly thick book, but well worth it.)

Until next time friend!

I’m going through pictures on my computer today, sorting about 12,000 snapshots of my kids, and I realized how many of these photos were taken at various rivers and waterways. It’s a universal fact: children are drawn to water.
I could wax eloquent on the benefits of splashing in a river. New sensory experiences including textures, colors, wind and sand. Improving balance by hopping from rock to rock. Sunlight exposure. Learning about ecosystems and nature. Appreciating beauty. Hand-eye coordination when throwing rocks and sticks. The list goes on and I often wonder why Kindergartners are stuck inside on Chromebooks instead of mucking about at the nearest river.

But I also believe rivers appeal to our souls on a deeper level. They embody the beauty and movement of nature, always moving, always changing, and always awe-inspiring. We often try to capture what they mean to us. (How many songs and books about rivers can you think of right now?)
God loves rivers. From the river which flowed from Eden to water the gardens (Gen 2:10) to the River of Life which flows crystal clear from the throne of God (Rev 22:1-2), it’s pretty obvious how much God loves this specific creation of His.
No wonder rivers speak to a secret, ancient part of our souls. No wonder we feel peace wash over us when we slip off our shoes, step into the cold, rippling current and close our eyes…
A river is a sacred place.

Take Charlotte’s Web for example. A classic story which has endured the test of time and inspired multiple movies and plays. I almost didn’t want to read it to my kids because *I* have heard the story so many times, I thought it would be a slog to get through. I forgot about the magic of discovering a lovely book for the first time, complete with silliness, friendship, loss, triumph, and descriptions to make your senses come alive.
Eli and Britta were simply enraptured.
When I got to the last page, I peeked over the top of the book to read their reactions. Eli’s face was turned towards the window, his eyes wide with wonder, his freckles lit up by the sun. Britta, her eyes a little teary after Charlotte died, was snuggled under a blanket and staring straight at me, waiting to hear how things ended.
I have to admit, my heart felt tender too, finishing the last words of Charlotte’s Web. Especially when reading this passage:

“Life in the barn was very good — night and day, winter and summer, spring and fall, dull days and bright days. It was the best place to be, thought Wilbur, this warm delicious cellar, with the garrulous geese, the changing seasons, the heat of the sun, the passage of swallows, the nearness of rats, the sameness of sheep, the love of spiders, the smell of manure, and the glory of everything.”

These few sentences reminded me that home, no matter how ordinary, is a beautiful place to be. Glory found in simplicity. Contentment throughout the changing seasons. Thank you E.B. White for that reminder.
What other truths could I find in the kids books downstairs? Here are a few:

1. Maintain a sense of adventure.
   "Soon the sails were up and they were on their way again. Wilfred helped dusty on deck, and Primrose looked out for landmarks for Poppy to find on the map. The day went quickly as the boat skimmed along down the river. By tea time the children had decided to become explorers.”
   —Jill Barklem, Brambly Hedge
   

   “When I grow up, I too will go to faraway places, and when I grow old, I too will live beside the sea.”
   ― Barbara Cooney, Miss Rumphius

2. Play is important work.
   "We sat in our windows for a long while, sending letters to each other. First we only wrote: ‘How are you? I am well.” But afterward we pretended that we were princesses who were locked up in two castles and couldn’t get out because there were dragons who guarded us. Britta and Anna wrote to me: ‘Our dragon is so awfully scary. Is yours? Princess Britta and Princess Anna.’
   And I answered: ‘Yes, my dragon is awfully scary too. He bites me if I try to get out. How nice that we can, at least, write to each other. Princess Lisa.”
   —Astrid Lindgren, The Children of Noisy Village

3. Celebrate the present.

   “She thought to herself, "This is now." She was glad that the cozy house, and Pa and Ma and the firelight and the music, were now. They could not be forgotten, she thought, because now is now. It can never be a long time ago.”
   ― Laura Ingalls Wilder, Little House in the Big Woods

4. Take care of creation.

   “…Of all the beasts he learned the language,
   Learned their names and all their secrets,
   How the beavers built their lodges,
   Where the squirrels hid their acorns,
   How the reindeer ran so swiftly,
   Why the rabbit was so timid,
   Talked with them whene’er he met them,
   Called them ‘Hiawatha’s Brothers.’”

   —Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Hiawatha

5. Take care of each other.

   “What did you write in the letter?"
   Frog said, "I wrote 'Dear Toad, I am glad that you are my best friend.
   Your best friend, Frog.'
   "Oh, said Toad, "that makes a very good letter.”
   ― Arnold Lobel, Frog and Toad

6. Be silly! (This one’s my favorite…. We all need a little Bill Peet and Richard Scarry in our lives. I’ve scanned in the illustrations for your full enjoyment.)

   

   

Tell me below some of your favorite children’s books!

The dogs romp under my feet as I write. Augie empties out a box of toys, picking them out one by one and tossing them haphazardly over his shoulder - (watching a 10 month old baby play is sheer joy and entertainment.)
It’s a quiet, rainy afternoon which is rare, both because of the quietness and the rain, so I’m seizing this chance to write and read and reflect.
Holy week. The spiritual weight of this time in the church calendar has hardly come to mind or affected my busy daily activities. With a twinge of guilt, I remember that today is Maundy Thursday - the day that Jesus ate supper with his closest friends and also his betrayer. When he washed their feet as love and sorrow flow’d mingled in his heart. When he said to the questioning faces around the table: “You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand.”
And what have I done to remember his love? Am I serving as he commanded me to? “I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you.”

When I start to self-deprecate and burden myself with guilt, Charlie shakes my shoulders (both literally and figuratively) and points out all the acts of service I do do. Changing diapers, bandaging cuts, wiping tears, making oatmeal, washing laundry, buying birthday presents, reading books, and yes, even washing my children’s muddy, grass-stained feet. These things are true. But, oh Lord, please forgive my acts of service which lack joy and are followed by complaints. Help me to remember the reason I do all these things: raising eternal and precious souls to know you. And that if I do as you have done for me, I will be blessed. (John 13:17).

Augie is done with his game of throwing toys. He shuffles over to me and grabs my leg with slobbery hands. Hello sweet boy.
I look at Augie’s big blue eyes, his impish grin, the dirt on his chin from digging in my houseplants, and my heart softens and resolves at the same time. No more guilt Laurel. Just keep doing the best you can, and keep learning to serve your family as an act of daily worship. And Amen.

And today my view was this:

Not the most glamorous view. Especially for someone who does not like running and feels judged by the entire world every time she steps on a treadmill.
But glamorous or not, treadmills and uphill hikes are a part of my postpartum fitness journey and so I must embrace them.
I am familiar with this journey — at least the beginning of it, since I’ve restarted it 4 times. Each pregnancy and birth brings me back to the beginning and keeps me humble with diastasis recti and about 40 extra pounds.
I press on!
Twice a week I go to our local gym which is attached to a small hospital. (Convenient in case I trip on the treadmill and break a leg.) I get my card punched and throw my bag into the locker with a “48 hour protection” deodorant sticker someone stuck on the door. Then, I get moving.
Moving - no matter how graceless or ungainly I feel - is balm for the soul and mind. Yes, getting started is hard. But in the words of a wise person: Choose your hard. Would I rather struggle with lethargy and back pain and being unable to rearrange furniture when the impulse takes me? Or would I rather feel good and strong, lift heavy things, and keep up with the kids?
The answer is obvious. I may jokingly call myself a ‘reluctant athlete’ but maybe I should relabel myself as a ‘motivated novice’ — because duh. I want to climb a mountain with my kids and see the admiration in their eyes. Good job Mama!

I remember traveling to Florence in wintertime. After a week of marveling at impressive architecture and art museums, stuffing my face with the finest Italian foods and falling asleep to accordion music, I started to feel unsettled. My Dad (who was traveling with me) said the same thing. What are we missing? How can we feel so melancholy in such a beautiful city?
On one of our last days in Florence, we walked to the Pitti Palace. My Dad and I bypassed all the royal chambers and jeweled ballrooms. We walked into the Boboli Gardens and marched straight to the top of the hill where we could see for miles around.
Greenery. That was it. Even in a city drenched with art, architecture and history, our souls were simply craving green things. I brushed my hands along the feathery edges of a hedge and scooped up a spice jar of dirt for Charlie (who was collecting dirt at the time). My color-deprived soul refreshed once more.

So every time February rolls around, I remember what I learned in Italy.
Nebraska and Italy are worlds apart geographically and culturally, but thank the Lord that plants are a universal joy. When my bones are chilled and life starts feeling “meh”, I know it’s time for a quick stop at the garden nursery, or an afternoon pruning my wild collection of houseplants.
Soon, soon, winter will melt into spring. Even now, my tulips are poking pointed noses through the soil. Green is coming.

I’m a Midwest gal through and through. Born and raised in Callaway County (we call ourselves Callawegians) I spent many years roaming outside and playing in the creek. I will always feel at home in these wooded, rolling hills.
I’ve also traveled and moved around a lot: the PNW, Illinois, Nebraska, Costa Rica, Sweden, Italy, etc… Our world is full of glory and wonder, mountains and plains, quaint villages and sprawling cities.
Having seen these things, I now have a renewed appreciation for the Midwest. What else does one need than a path through the woods? Climbing rocks? A river to set your canoe on? Especially children; children need little else.

Of course Missouri and Nebraska have their downsides. While living in Idaho, I always relished frightening my friends with stories of chiggers and tornados and *gasp* humidity levels — things they would never experience out west.
Then, one of my Idaho friends vacationed to Missouri and came back with awed descriptions of my home state.
"It was like walking through a jungle!” she said. “Everything was so thick and green. I loved it!”

My friend gave me something valuable. An outside perspective looking in. Her descriptions jogged memories of building tree forts and throwing creek rocks. Oh yeah. I thought. Missouri is pretty rad isn’t it?
Since moving to Nebraska, I’ve realized that Nebraska is pretty rad too. It has fewer trees - yes. Less rain and more wide open spaces. But it’s beautiful nonetheless, in its own understated way. I love both states - they are home to me.

All four of my kids are Midwesterners too, and I don’t think they know how good they have it. Their childhood is and will be chock full of outdoor adventures. We are still working on skills like hiking-without-complaining and being-brave-when-there-are-cows, but overall my kids are pretty comfortable roaming in the woods.
The Midwest after all, is a child’s paradise. What more could they need?

Places we love in Missouri:
1. Rock Bridge State Park
2. The Pinnacles
3. Cedar Creek Trail System
4. Painted Rock Conservation Area
5. Prairie Garden Trust

Places we love in Nebraska:
1. Rock Creek Station
2. Valentine Wildlife Refuge
3. Plautz Crane Viewing Site
4. Indian Cave State Park

We are only on Day 4 of visiting Missouri and our time is already overflowing with adventurous experiences and good memories. Yesterday, I was able to sneak away for a day trip with my girlfriends. We carpooled to Hermann and visited every boutique shop and antique store imaginable while laughing and talking the whole time.
I’ve only known Delaney and Erica since we were 5 years old, and even though I don’t get to see them super often, I’m always incredibly grateful we can pick up right where we left off. Thank you friends for a beautiful fall day together!

While in Hermann, I discovered some lovely shops which I will certainly return to in the future. I’m not a huge “shopper” but there’s something pleasurable about stepping into a small, carefully curated space with beautiful products. My senses were filled with the scent of incense, a pattern of sunlight filtering through spacious windows, cool stone steps beneath my feet, and vibrant collections of jewelry and antiques on display.

The “Lavendel Dame” was my favorite, because it smelled like heaven with it’s bouquets of dried lavender, reed diffusers, bath salts, and lotions. Did I go a little overboard with my purchases? Yes. But then I’ve also been slathered in lavender lotion every since and it brings me joy.

Another shop, called “Back Home Again” had an entire wall of loose leaf tea. I savored the scents of chai, chamomile, cardamom, and rose and finally settled on a strawberry tea which smells like springtime.

Thankfully, I’ve also had downtime in between adventures. Late at night when the kids are finally tucked into bed, I use my precious reading time to savor the words of Sally Clarkson. Never, ever have I felt more seen and understood as a mother than through the writings of Mrs. Clarkson. Her wisdom is truly a balm for the weary soul.

“One of the marks of a godly woman is that she takes responsibility for her soul's need for joy and delight. A woman is a conductor, who leads the orchestra of her surroundings in the songs and music of her life. God is a God of creativity and dimension, and so He is pleased when we we co-create beauty in our own realm, through the power of His Spirit.
It was a profound realization when I understood that I could become an artist with my very life.”
― Sally Clarkson, Desperate: Hope for the Mom Who Needs to Breathe

Traveling and seeing friends is a healing balm within itself. While I hate to be away from Charlie, this time has been restorative and grounding. And I look forward to seeking more beauty and more family visits!

“Boys sometimes forget that before one leaves on an adventure, if at all possible, one must pack. There are situations in which packing is secondary—such as escaping a burning building—but if there is time to plan and arrange and discuss before leaving, then it is a fact of life that grownups will do so. When children say it’s time to leave, they mean, “It’s time to leave.” When grownups say so, they really mean, “It’s time to begin thinking about leaving sometime in the near future.”
― Andrew Peterson, North! or Be Eaten

Andrew Peterson is right… Adults enjoy packing.
Sweaters, thermoses, first aid, swimsuits, books, toys, diapers, bug spray, audiobooks (the Wingfeather Saga included), and cameras… I pride myself on being prepared for all sorts of adventures!
It’s a satisfying way to serve my family I suppose. A toddler wet his pants? Let me whip out some clean ones. Someone cut their foot? Band-aids are magically procured. Snacks? I have those too. Mary Poppins has nothing on me :)

Our travels will contain a myriad of adventures… from exploring antique stores in an old German town, to hanging out at my sister’s farm. We’ll hit up the beach at Lake Michigan, see cousins, and hopefully pick apples at an orchard.
You’ll see regular posts and photos from our escapades, titled the “Midwest Chronicles” and you might even see some house updates from Charlie as he enjoys his month of peaceful solitude and drywalling. (Drywalling is his favorite! haha)

But for now, I’m off to collect all the pacifiers that are scattered throughout the house, and throw in that last load of laundry.
Pray for us to have safe travels! Pray for me to handle the challenges of solo parenting, and for Charlie to feel connected and not lonely even while we are away.
Missouri or bust.

I love Pinterest.
Yes, I admit it… scrolling through a newsfeed of picture-perfect thumbnails is my visual equivalent to eating chocolate. In excess, it’s unhealthy. In small doses, it’s a treat to the senses.
In a way, my Pinterest newsfeed reflects my interests and style and hobbies. From pasta recipes, wool blankets, and Spurgeon quotes, to muddy kids, sail boats, and Icelandic sheep, my “aesthetic” might be considered eclectic at best. (I like to think of my interests as “wide-ranging” but Charlie says the word “whiplash” comes to mind.)

What is aesthetic anyways? Most people I know have a defined sense of style. But I think aesthetic goes deeper than the type of clothes you wear, or the paintings you hang on the wall. Cambridge Dictionary defines aesthetic as “relating to the enjoyment or study of beauty.”
Enjoyment.
Study.
The very thought! Am I a student of beauty every time I “pin” a beautiful photo or try a new recipe? I’d like to think so. I save and I pin and I steal ideas, hoarding inspiration like a magpie with silver. And my Pinterest account definitely resembles a hoard… It’s where I go to feel inspired.
But like any good student, I cannot let inspiration remain in my head; I must express it in some tangible way. An inspired musician composes. An inspired cook makes a feast. An inspired writer creates poetry.
An inspired stay-at-home-mom tries to do it all!

This past week I helped the kids make looms using old yarn and cookie sheets. Then, I baked butternut squash cookies in a desperate attempt to use all the squash in our pantry. I wrote down some powerful C.S. Lewis quotes in my journal and learned the lyrics to a folksong. And all because of a little app.

Pinterest is only a terrible thing when aesthetic never makes it into real life. Creating beauty is the goal. Sharing beauty with your friends and neighbors, bringing it into your home. That’s what is important. Study it! Savor it!
So here is my autumn resolution:
Use Pinterest as a tool to make real life even richer. That butternut squash cookie recipe? I’m going to put it down in my own handwriting and share it my sister. Those bracelets we made with our cookie sheet looms? They will be worn at the beach and gifted to cousins!
Make beauty tangible…. don’t let it stay on your phone.

And here we are, 4 months deep into another yearly challenge.
The 1000 Hours Outside movement has been such a life-changing experience for me and my kiddos. A motivating factor as simple as time-keeping pushes us to stay outside for longer hours, attempt longer hikes, and explore our local countryside more extensively. We eat our meals on the front porch and regularly visit Rock Creek State Park.

Most recently, we went to hang with the cranes.

Charlie and I are craniacs now. And our kids don’t have much of a choice when it comes to bird-watching…. They dutifully tote their binoculars and walk behind us with polite grumblings. “I don’t see any birds. When are we going to have a snack?”
So during a spell of unseasonable March warmth we all bundled into our big white van and drove west.

An astonishing 736,000 sandhill cranes (give or take a few) migrated through Nebraska this spring. And we got to see plenty of them at our favorite viewing deck over the Platte River.
They came in at sunset, circling and chirring (such a beautiful sound), their gangly legs outstretched as they came in for a landing. For hours, we sat and watched. The sun sinking low and a full moon in her silver splendid glory rising higher and higher.

(You can hear a recording of cranes here.)

I don’t think our kids realize how lucky they are to witness one of the last ancient migrations in the world. I mean, these birds have been around since the North American rhinos and camels and elephants roamed the Great Plains. How cool?!

Once it is dark, the birds start settling down. Bickering and vying for prime real-estate on the sandbar, it’s a long time until the river is quiet… and we are loathe to leave. But the kids are getting tired, so we tuck them into car-seats with blankies and books. Mama and Papa turn on a podcast and settle in for a long drive home.

Charlie throws my phone into my lap and says:
"Make sure you log those hours on your app thingy.”

Two days ago I took Britta and Chet to see the masses of snow geese at our local park. Geese themselves are unspectacular; raucous, drab colored, and smelly… After listening to them squabble and flap for an hour, they can turn obnoxious pretty quick.
But to Britta, they were magical.
"Look at all those geese!!” She cried, holding up her green binoculars backwards. And then, “MAMA. MY BINOCULARS AREN’T WORKING”
After a quick adjustment and refocusing of the lens, she happily stood on the wind-swept shore just watching and watching and watching. Oh to be a child once more.

(Listen to the video below with sound on.)

After a few minutes I noticed we weren’t alone. Directly above us in a tall cottonwood tree, sat a juvenile bald eagle. Fluffed up against the cold, this young giant of a bird was watching geese too, his piercing gaze singling out a juicy bit of lunch I’m sure.

Magic is all around us if we choose to look.
Look up and you might see a snow globe of birds. Look down and you’ll notice life stirring in the garden beds. Bulbs and migrating birds alike answer the call of spring.
As I slowly emerge from the survivalist mindset of winter, my heart stirs with the same desire for growth. I want to fly across the skies, and dig my hands in the dirt. I cast off my anxiety like a cloak and turn my energies towards creating a peaceful, fruitful life.
It’s the magic of March. I’m convinced.

We are in the midst of our yearly Nebraska blizzard - an event which seems to hit every January 4th on the dot. A northeast wind howls, and powdery snow drifts against fences and trees. It’s beautiful and wild and makes us thankful for a cozy brick house to live in.
Our kids are so excited to *finally* see snow, they almost bound out the door before breakfast, wearing nothing but t-shirts and boots (no socks).
"Whoa whoa whoa!” Papa calls. “It’s a blizzard out there! You gotta dress warm!” And so begins the saga of missing mittens, too-small coats, and complaints of bunched up socks. Bib overalls are miraculously procured from our messy closet and zipped up snug underneath chins
"I’ll be tough.” My 3 year-old assures me. “I don’t need a hat.” Her big eyes and self confident smile are pretty convincing.
"Oh, yes you do sister.” I reply.
We finally make it out to the front porch where the kids realize we weren’t kidding…. It’s freaking cold! Chet cries for ten minutes even though he’s the most warmly dressed, so I wipe his frozen boogies and carry him to the carriage house where we are sheltered from the wind.
Eli immediately grabs a shovel and tosses powdered snow into the wind. He watches it float away, enthralled as only a kid can be with wintry sparkly magic. But when the strong wind catches him in the face, he retreats quickly.
Britta pulls out the orange plastic sled and convinces Papa (with big eyes and a convincing smile) to pull her around FAST! Inevitably, she tumbles into a snowbank, crying hard. Papa, her hero, comes to her rescue.
Stickeen is the only one thoroughly enjoying this whole affair. (It helps having a thick double coat of fur). He rummages in the compost pile and chases sticks, romping as though it was a pleasant summer day. When a gust of wind hits his face, his ears are flattened and he comically squints his eyes.

Once we return to our warm kitchen, spirits are soothed with hot cocoa and leftover beef roast. Charlie and I glance at each other over our mugs.
If we want to live somewhere more wintry, these kids will need toughening up.

This particular nature center was built just before I was born and not much of it has changed in 30 years. I draw comfort from the large redwood beams, expansive windows and crackling fireplace. Paper snowflakes are pasted to the window, bird taxidermies grace the walls. And everywhere are terrariums and fish tanks offering endless entertainment for the kids, while interactive exhibits talk about Missouri’s diverse ecosystems.
It’s an odd and comforting juxtaposition of inspiring conservation efforts in a cozy living room setting.

The kids certainly made themselves right at home in the library room, reading about bats and armadillos.

Perhaps I love this atmosphere because I grew up in my own nature center of sorts. Mom and Dad’s shelves were (and still are) filled with curious things like whelk egg cases, feathers, horseshoe crab shells, etc. Dad has a few bird skulls on his reading desk. Mom keeps a hornet’s nest hanging from the kitchen ceiling. Both nature lovers, they keep treasures from their life adventures. I keep telling them to write a book.

I’m bringing nature into my home too.

Cardboard birds painted in vibrant colors dangle from our chandelier. Plants live on every available windowsill. Eli’s bug collection is hung proudly in the living room. Rocks and seashells clutter the tops of bookshelves…. the list goes on.
I can’t wait for the day my children start bringing animals home to watch and study and release… (although Charlie is unsure about pet tarantulas, but I keep reminding him he kept a bucket of tadpoles in his bedroom as a little boy and how is that much different?)

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m thankful for God’s creation. It is something to be thankful for and marvel at every day. And we need to protect it.

How better to protect the natural world, than to turn our homes into nature centers and teach our children to love the same things?

Life holds a lot of tension these days. I feel constantly buffeted between anticipation and surrender. Anticipation and surrender. What will come of the election? How will our family handle huge holiday gatherings? Can I manage to do all the things - all the shopping and traditions and baking which are so important to me? Will our house sell before spring? And now, with this new little life growing within me my mind swirls with thoughts of bassinets, car seats, birth supplies, and morning sickness.

Inevitably these cares build and build until I have no choice but to surrender. What can I do but pray and breathe and invite Jesus into my heart? I have to invite Jesus a lot… sometimes every 5 minutes. And he’s always willing to come in. Rain comes down against the coffee shop window, and I think of Hosea 6:3: He will come to us like the rain.

He will come to us gently, cleansing and life-giving. Praise God.

I’ve linked each one to Amazon for shopping convenience (you’re welcome!) so click away and happy reading!

1. The Web of Nature by Ted S. Pettit

2. Seabird by Holling Clancy Holling

3. Minn of the Mississippi by Holling Clancy Holling

4. When Animals are Babies by Charles and Elizabeth Schwartz

5. Imagine the Moon by Gerald Fierst

6. They Call Me Woolly by Keith DuQuette

7. Owls by Gail Gibbons

8. The Book of North American Owls by Helen Roney Sattler

9. Ponds and Streams by John Stidworthy

10. Trees and Leaves by Althea

11. Animal Journeys by Joyce Pope

12. Plants and Flowers by Joyce Pope

13. A Log’s Life by Wendy Pfeffer

14. Fly, Butterfly by Bonnie Bader

15. And So They Build by Bert Kitchen

16. The Tree Book for Kids and Their Grownups by Gina Ingoglia

17. Puffling Patrol by Ted and Betsey Lewin

18. Wild Country: Poems for Young People by David Harrison

19. Song of the Water Boatman and other Pond Poems by Joyce Sidman

20. Mojave by Diane Siebert

21. The Little Island by Margaret Wise Brown

22. The Puffins are Back by Gail Gibbons

23. If You Find a Rock by Peggy Christian

24. Grandfather Buffalo by Jim Arnosky

25. Otters Underwater by Jim Arnosky

26. Every Autumn Comes the Bear by Jim Arnosky

27. Frozen Wild by Jim Arnosky

28. Crinkleroot Series by Jim Arnosky

29. Luck by Jean Craighead George

30. Becoming a Good Creature by Sy Montgomery

31. Brave Baby Hummingbird by Sy Montgomery

32. Birdsong by Audrey Wood

33. Phantom of the Prairie by Jonathon London

34. Box Turtle at Long Pond by William T. George

35. Song of Creation by Paul Goble

36. Look to the North by Jean Craighead George

37. Giving Thanks: A Native American Good Morning Message by Chief Jake Swamp

38. Bats by Gail Gibbons

39. All Our Relatives by Paul Goble

40. Children of the Forest by Elsa Beskow

41. A Child’s Book of Wildflowers by M.A. Kelly

    

42. The Story of the Root Children by Sibylle von Olfers

43. Where Do They Go When it Rains by Gerda Muller

44. An Egg is Quiet by Dianna Aston

45. A Rock is Lively by Dianna Aston

46. A Shell is Cozy by Dianna Aston

47. Fireflies! by Julie Brinkloe

48. The Raft by Jim LaMarche

49. Wonder Walkers by Micha Archers

50. Be Nice to Spiders by Margaret Bloy Graham

51. Annie and the Wild Animals by Jan Brett

52. The Mitten by Jan Brett

53. The Hike by Allison Farrell

54. Humphrey: The Wayward Whale by Christine Leefeldt

55. Time of Wonder by Robert McCloskey

56. Over and Under the Waves by Kate Messner

57. Over and Under the Wetland by Kate Messner

58. A Ring of Earth: A Child’s Book of Seasons by Jane Yolen

59. Be Blest: A Celebration of Seasons by Mary Beth Owens

“As I looked about me I felt that the grass was the country, as the water is the sea. The red of the grass made all the great prairie the colour of winestains, or of certain seaweeds when they are first washed up. And there was so much motion in it; the whole country seemed, somehow, to be running.”
― Willa Cather, My Ántonia

It’s autumn. Glory be.
This morning, Britta was sitting on her little red tricycle singing soft songs to herself. She paused to look up at me and said: “I’m singing about where the fairies live. I’m singing about autumn to make myself feel better.”
Oh sweet child. How much I’d like to experience the simple magic of childhood once again.
Truth is, I’ve been frazzled. It’s the phase of life I’m in. I get it. (I can hear the ladies at church saying ‘it won’t last forever! enjoy every moment!’) Sometimes I do enjoy every moment, running my hand through dried grasses, smelling the earthy resinous sumac and watching quail scuttle across the bare path. I take the kids hiking every Friday morning - early, before it gets hot and we keep to the shady spots where acorns crunch underfoot. Eli takes the lead as always, running way ahead while Britta prances on her tiptoes behind him. Chet tries desperately to keep up, his little legs walking fast - slightly hindered by a soggy diaper, and his left arm pumping for all it’s worth.
Other times, my head rings from lack of sleep and wailing toddler tantrums. At 1 in the morning, I text my family asking for prayers when Britta has a particularly difficult time. It’s hard for me to understand how a sweet, gentle, spirited girl can also show such rage and frustration for seemingly no reason. Of course, there is a reason. But what is it? Wearily, I search for answers on the internet. I buy an herbal tincture called “Sleepy Nights for Kids” which I probably place too much hope in. Charlie and I both hold Britta tight and carry her through the storms.
Yes, I’m frazzled. But I’m also incredibly thankful for the ordinariness of this season. There is pleasure in staying home, sitting around the table for ‘morning circle time’. After cleaning up from breakfast, the kids help me make tea and we write down our gratitudes and work on memorizing Psalm 23. The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me to lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul…
This is the picture I always imagined when I dreamed of being a mom. Bible open on the table, eager faces looking up at me, love and hot tea intermingled - warming the deepest parts of our hearts and minds. Redemption and foundation for the rest of our days.
I’m rambling now. I blame that on the mellowness of fall. Like Britta, autumn makes me feel better.

Just talking about things makes me feel better. Which is why I call my Substack profile a ‘journal’. It’s not professional writing, but it is writing.
Other things which make me feel better:
These woolen slippers
Apple picking with the family
Reading My Antonia in preparation for visiting Cather’s home in Red Cloud
The verses Psalm 16:5-6
This tea from my friend’s shop: (find it here)
These two Substack writers: The Island Shepherdess and The Elliott Homestead

Hiking with the kiddos
And My husband whispering to me at night: “You are a good mama.”

Life is a weird mix of difficulties and pleasures. And I can only give myself the same calming words I give to Britta at 1am. Breathe girl. Deep breaths. You are loved, so so loved. And it’s going to be okay.

It’s mid-September, which means my search history on Etsy starts looking like this:

nordic socks
sweater patterns
barefoot boots
beeswax candles
dried wreathes
wool blankets

It’s the “feminine urge” (is that still a trend?) to surround myself with all things cozy, warm, earthy, soft, beautiful.
This past weekend, we got to visit my sister and her family in the Ozarks of Missouri. Wooded hills were just beginning to turn color and golden light diffused gently over cow pastures and farm ground. The Dodsons really rolled out the red carpet for us with chili and hot cider for supper and cinnamon rolls and coffee for breakfast. We talked and laughed and ate (and ate some more) and piled into the back of their farm truck to check on cows.

It was a good time. A perfect way to welcome fall.

In the early morning, when everyone was still asleep, I slipped into the private lane and went walking. My sister’s horses, ever curious, came over to snuffle me with their goofy whiskery noses. Hi Chico. Hi Samson.
Even in September, a few delicate lilacs were blooming, hanging on for dear life in the wind. Silly tree, I thought. You’ve got the wrong time of year. But I admired it’s bravery and beauty nonetheless.

I used to be better at seeking and celebrating beauty; admiring a stand of fir trees came easier to me, and an afternoon cup of tea was second nature.
Something happened a few years back to discourage this habit. Maybe it was the wild ride of postpartum hormones or the intense energy needed to raise children. Perhaps still it was chronic health issues which caused me to be overcome with heavy and unshakeable fatigue. In any case, I felt slivers of bitterness slip in and in my exhaustion, I grew apathetic to loveliness.

No more! I promised myself on that chilly morning walk. There’s more to life than exhaustion and bitterness. Maybe I’m a bit like the lilacs, a little confused and buffeted by cold unfeeling wind, but trying so hard to hang on and exude peace.
As I made my way back to the house, I thought of more mid-September resolutions:

To invite stillness into our home. And then, to welcome joyous chaos when we are done being still

To take seriously the power of a cup of tea. Medicine, truly, for body and soul

To capture what I find beautiful through painting or writing or photography. (Can beauty really be captured? Or only made greater through art?")

To serve my family with love. To lavish them with a peaceful and orderly home

And to hang on - like the lilacs, even when the wind is rough

In the words of Elizabeth Gilbert:
"You were given life, it is your duty (and also your entitlement as a human being) to find something beautiful within life, no matter how slight.”

We are home from the Ozarks now, settling back into our own lovely, albeit slightly disarrayed house. I’m slowly pulling out fall decor and sweaters from various closets, straightening quilts on beds, and serving hot cider on demand (which is quite often). I can feel the apathy melting away.

“Life has loveliness to sell” says Sara Teasedale. “All beautiful and splendid things.”
And Mary Oliver reminds me:
“Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.”

Yes ma’am I will.