If I were a gardener

 If I were a gardener I'd probably wait until the last frost date to plant those tomatoes.

 But two weeks of 80 degree days and 50 degree nights and I. just. could. not. wait.

The garden is bigger this year than last. We (the famous "royal we")
tore out the fence between the Hill at Bag End (anyone?)

and the garden in order to expand into the sunniest areas.

For reference, the fence used to be on the left side of this photo.

The fence you still see separates the horse paddock from the garden.

At least until some equine with a long neck and
a lot of determination needs a snack of corn.

There is really no way to move our garden to another area on the property
(at least without a good deal of expense and
also shuffling the chicken yard or children's play yard)
but we could and did capture a little more sunny footage for the corn and beans.

A new fence may or may not go up on the west end. I kind of like that open feeling. The deer may like it too.

 The original homesteaders here cleared (read: clear cut) the steep hillside to the back of the garden and horse paddocks. They operated a sawmill on our creek and some of the stumps are so huge (and ugly) that they have not rotted in all those decades. We are slowly replanting that hillside on the "back yard/garden" side but we have not decided what to do about the hill on the "horse" side.

Stay tuned because a good idea is bound to emerge.

Between other projects. And dance lessons. A-hem.

Composted manure enriches our raised beds and traditional tilled gardens. Amazing stuff, and free. Last year we had to purchase soil to fill the newly built raised beds because we weren't ready to use the previous owner's compost. I would not like to have to pay money again for what seemed to be mostly wood fiber.

 A very old grapevine that we discovered in the mown lawn is flourishing on its one-year-old arbor. Last year we even harvested grapes! That was a blessing to me because I was loathe to leave behind our gorgeous grape arbor at the old farmhouse. Similarly here we uncovered a 40-foot row of raspberries that were choked with grass just beyond the beautiful existing strawberry bed.

It is a happy report that the raspberries are looking great this spring as are three young blueberry plants that the sweet sellers planted not too long before we moved in.
To that berry garden we added three additional blueberry plants,
a gift from friends with a nursery, and two currant bushes.

My lavender at the front door is huge! Last year it was root-bound in a four-inch pot; this year it is competing with the already-in-residence purple columbines. Soon both will fade and be replaced by the squeal-worthy peony show.
A girl's gotta have flowers. And the odd Grecian statuette.

Are you gardening this year?

Aiming to please

 Are you a people pleaser?

I think I am, most of the time, striving to please until I am finally, really, truly not. (That would be the moment when my inner toddler throws her tantrum that sounds something like "you can't maaaaaa-aaake me.")

Do you want to make the people you love comfortable and the people you know happy and to be perfectly honest, do you want to make the people you've never met like you? And then is there a line that can be crossed when you realize it's all impossible, anyway, and so goodnessgraciousme what to do?

 It's okay if it's only me.

 Just wondering.

When I am my most vulnerable I am also my most teachable, so there's the silver lining.

Whether or not folks like me, whether or not I can please all the people any of the time, I am learning to like myself a little better when I find myself worthy of consideration in the equation of happiness.

We could be talking about what to make for dinner or where to live or how to invest your time/money/knowledge: to be pleasing is not nearly as important as to be after the right priorities. Saying "yes" to every request will lead me to certain failure on multiple fronts. It's harder at the beginning but ever so much easier as you go.

I have been saying my "yeses" at home to: gardening, pony pursuits, school and dance schedules, meeting our neighbors. I have been answering "no" to joining new (church, non-profit, writing critique) groups, and "no" to writing for new (but worthy!) causes.

I'm pretty pleased with myself.

What do you say "no" to? Or do you?

All together now, Easter edition

In which you cannot see the barn I risked life and limb to photograph

Hello. My name is Miriam and I take pictures of barn signs.

Even when there happens to be a line of porta-potties and a blackberry hedge obscuring the barn.

Or large dogs patrolling the perimeter.

It's a problem no cropping can solve.

 Last weekend was so gorgeous here on the rainy side of Oregon that you know I felt nothing but guilt for the rest of the country's stuck-in-winter blues.

 Madeleine had dance class, Sarah was recovering from pneumonia,
Grace went to work with Dad.

Serial commas be darned;
the camera languished in its bag and so the babies and I went for a drive.

Just Salvador and Laura and me.
It was a beautiful start to Holy Week and just the quiet called for.

(Except, now that I think of it, for the noise of the 5- and 2-year-old children.)

There may be big changes for our little family this coming year.

Oh, who am I kidding.

There are always big changes.

After years of happy (mostly independent) homeschooling we are considering a homeschool charter school. Madeleine is age-wise entering her high school years and it's possible she will want to participate in theater and music at the local high school.

Mr. Suite has made huge changes in his engineering business
and we are adjusting to his new location and way of working.
I can embrace change, I can.

I'm thinking (again!) about graduate school since
sweet Salvador sidetracked that plan a couple of years ago.

The garden will be just as big or bigger. The farmhouse remodeling will continue.
(Post about the fabulous cheap-to-free bathroom remodel, promised!)

And of course I'll continue to cruise the back roads in search
for decrepit barns and country churches. That much will stay the same.

Linking up with Like Mother, Like Daughter for pretty, happy, funny, real because it is pretty much all of those around here.

"March"ing along

We missed updating you in February, dear readers and friends. It was a muddy, frozen month and quite frankly the camera rested in its bag for much of it. But now. Bang! Snap! It is March and time to plant the peas.

We brought home two new horses in February and Dolly for one was mightily displeased. Two Spot was ever the gentleman and attempted to smooth her ruffled nerves but the pony spent weeks alternately pouting and punishing us for our disloyalty. She is pretty sure she could carry a full-grown person, as any self-respecting Shetland would, thank you very much. Who needs a couple of Morgans anyway?

But really, Dolly, there are still three children under 50 pounds around here. There are plenty of mane braiding and river trips to come for you, spunky pony.

To be truthful Dolly and I share this aversion to change. Once I learned how to be present in the moment I realized how difficult it can be to move on to the next. Transition issues, anyone?

Murphy the dog had a little anxiety too, facing so much change, now that I think of it. He lost his best friend Molly over the winter and now he is growing attached (read: devoted?) to Madeleine. In this photo she is heading out to the horses. She thinks.

Murphy doesn't so much mind Sam and Richie's arrival, but they don't quite know what to do with a pony-sized dog yet. Similarly Richie seems to believe Jane the ewe lamb is a very fat poodle with a habit of rushing in to steal his dropped grain.

We all learn and grow. And change.

In less-philosophical farm news: We planted two peach trees and an almond tree. (You can see Grace digging one of the holes in a picture posted here!) This brings our orchard to three mature apple trees, one mature tart cherry and two sweet two-year-old cherries, one young fig tree, one mature pear and two two-year-old pears, the new peach and almond trees, and five grapevines we planted last year. Oh! And a quince, a 40-foot multi-variety raspberry hedge, and three blueberry bushes. This week I hope to renovate my strawberry bed during the break between school and dance each day.

And in school news: Grace's piano lessons are a treasure hidden in each week. I know I may be stage-momming but I have to say I think she plays beautifully, and she loves it. Her shy and quiet goes away when she is practicing and a new giggly glow comes over her. Is there anything to make a mother tearful like her child finding a happiness and joy? Which is a perfect segue into Madeleine and algebra. (Yes, I am thinking I am funny.) Homeschooling (who made that word?) kindergarten through high school is its own brand of mommy crazy but it is still working for our family in part because Madeleine and Sarah are both so self-starting. Madeleine would rather "start" with math, and Sarah with literature. They work incredibly hard each day on their "schoolwork"  before they play in the rain with the ponies and then get cleaned up, Monday through Saturday, for ballet/tap/jazz/modern. It is simply stunning to be as involved as I get to be. The best way I can describe how it feels to "teach" them is that I am allowed to rediscover my own love of learning while they explore new subjects. Meanwhile Grace is still loving second grade if not as much right now as she loves dance and music, Laura is a super-precocious kindergarten ballerina princess scholar, and Salvador has absorbed his alphabet and counts to 17 (skips 18 -- but goes on to 19 and 20 -- what's up with that?) at age two while he gets to know his Legos really well. How lucky am I to be seated at the same table as these children?

Something on which I don't always update you: The in-case-you-follow-small-business news: my husband's engineering, project management, site development and land survey business has evolved significantly to better serve our still-struggling Oregon economy. I am unspeakably proud of how hard and smart he continues to work, traveling the state and region and taking on new lines of work to diversify. A tiny part of me sometimes wishes we could go back to a homesteading lifestyle, selling shares in dairy cows and harvesting trees to build the new addition we need so badly at this old farmhouse. But. His skills and certifications are helping many others in the development and land use planning fields find ways to accomplish their goals as well. The office looks different than it did five years ago but, again, change is good. Right?

And finally the farmhouse renovation news: It certainly is good to have change to report on that front. The upstairs bathroom, completely unusable a year ago, is becoming beautiful! Since moving every last thing to the studs, we have insulated and had the plumbing repaired. The new black-and-white flooring is installed and the toilet and pedestal sink are in. Two custom-made built-in cabinets (squee!) hold linens and hair bows. Last to finish is the tub end of the room, but I hope to have a surprise to share next month. A dear friend visited for the first time in a year and in giving her the tour I was impressed with our progress, which is hard to see in the day-to-day of it all. New kitchen flooring, new kitchen nook with wainscot, new stairwell, new pantry, new paint in nearly every room, newnewnew! Through her eyes I didn't see the flooring still to replace or the bookcases to build, but the beauty in what we are creating. I was surprised by how much change we've wrought one spackle spot at a time.

Oftentimes I am like Richie or Sam, newly arrived at this place, not sure of what I'm seeing but grateful for the fresh growth of spring grass pushing through last fall's leaves. A change can be a surprise. And a surprise is like a present.