Why Hello There

And with that, we marked the longest stretch without posts, ever, on Of Woods and Words. Sorry about the radio silence there. The end of last month and the start of this month have been filled with seven day stretches of workdays, baby showers, social obligations, and company. Needless to say, I'm awash in blog material that just needs to morphed into actual blog posts. I plan to work on that this week, as well tackle the mountain of laundry currently living behind our bedroom door.

But don't worry, I'm still here, alive and kicking.

 

Well, hey there!

Before we move forward, can we just take a moment to remember Google Reader, the Google blog feed organizer that had its last day in the sun last Monday. If you're like me and used Google Reader to organize all of the blogs you follow, it was a sad day indeed. Like so many have with the demise of Google Reader, I've transitioned over to BlogLovin' this week, which of course I don't like nearly as well as Google Reader. Change is hard! If you're also experiencing Google Reader withdrawal, fear not, you can follow Of Woods and Words on BlogLovin' or subscribe via email and never miss a post again. Of course that would require me to actually write posts. Erm, about that . . . .

I actually had a bunch of photos dating back to 6/25 hanging out in an unpublished blog post that I thought I'd share with you. The photos from the garden are pretty funny because the garden has exploded in size since I took them. Nevertheless, here are some snapshots of summertime around here. Over the next week or so, I'll update you on the garden, knitting projects, baby showers, running and a lot more.

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A True Story

The other day, Andy said, "You know, one of these days, we should really put some effort into straightening up around here."

And while I admit that we may have a bit of a mess/disaster issue on our hands when I am losing things - knitting needles . . . books - in the couch on a nightly basis (and we can't even blame children for the current state of our happy abode), my knee-jerk reaction to Andy's critique was, "It's fine. NBD." Who doesn't feel more at home in a home that looks like a tornado ripped through it?

Obviously, it could be way worse. Conversely, it could also be a lot better.

But like Scarlett O'Hara always said, I'll think about this mess in October.

Oh wait, Scarlett said "tomorrow," didn't she. . .

 

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And then Autumn came . . .

I love Fall. It's always been my favorite-iest of seasons. And around here, with the non-stop madness of "go, go, go" that summer brings, we tend to put autumn on a pedestal. I'll admit it - I have ridiculously high expectations for the season this year.

While autumn does mean shorter days and the ever-nearing possibility of snow (oh yuck!), I always find the nip in the air invigorating and grounding. With autumn being the back to school season, we've been conditioned to view fall as a time to buckle down to the serious tasks at hand and to reestablish structure and schedule in our lives. Now is the time to write out business plans, figure the projects that will keep us busy and employed during the snowy season ahead, and to put up the garden's harvest.
 

Here's what I'm looking forward to this autumn:

• Finishing up my garden "putting up" projects: freezing tomatoes and green beans, canning jalapenos and homemade dill pickle relish, making the final batch of pesto.
• Long walks in the woods during grouse hunting season
• The return of a normal work week. As fun as the whole working 13 days in a row has been, I'll be happy when September wraps up and I return to working 5 days a week . . . like a civilized person. 
• Autumn knitting projects 
• Cool evenings 
• Bright blue autumn skies 
• The smell of fallen leaves

In other autumn-ish news:

I made my first sale in the Etsy shop last week. Woot-woot! So I did the only logical thing one should do after their first (very small) sale - ordered a whole bunch of new yarn. I can hardly wait for it to arrive so I can start designing more headbands and other pretty things for the shop.

I also have a bunch of lovely sponsors for September (check out the left sidebar!) who I'll be introducing later this week. If you'd like to join them, it's not too late. Just click here to grab a sponsor spot: ads run for 30 days.

What's your favorite season? What are you looking forward to this fall?
 

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I'm Loving It

Rather than spend this post regaling you with how busy I've been (I decided to take a second job that has me working 6-7 days a week through the end of September . . . hullo Ireland next spring!) I thought I'd take a cue from Katherine over at Irish Italian Blessings and do a fun little post about all the stuff I've been digging lately.

Know what makes your life worth living? Fuzzy, felted slippers that make you slightly resemble a Muppet. I made these back in April and they are seriously the best thing to bum around the house in at the end of the day. Even after a day filled with the nuttiest tourist questions, as soon as I slip on these cushy slippers, my whole body and mind goes "Ahhh!"

And once I've got my fuzzy slippers on, what better to do then settle in on the couch with the Harry Potter flick du jour. That's right, over the last couple weeks, Andy (who was a Harry Potter virgin when we started this film fest) and I watched all eight of the Harry Potter films in order. Because I was so darn old by the time all the books got published (I'd graduated from college when the last book came out) I'd only read the last three books once and I've never even seen the last three movies. It was really fun to watch the whole story unfold in order and without two year gaps between watching each movie. I may actually be motivated to reread all the books next winter. The only issue? We ate so much popcorn while watching the movies that I'm not sure I will ever be able to enjoy this story again without a big bag of greasy popcorn next to me.

Also deserving of a spot on the "I'm Loving It" list? Yep . . . popcorn. Oh nom nom nom.

As someone who works with tourists everyday (they call me "Miss Information") I'm really loving this pin of one of fellow Minnesotan Andrew Zimmern's quotes. I think if you read between the lines of this post, I think you'll find the message "stop freakin' asking me where to see moose, already." 

Source: pinerly.com via Ada on Pinterest

I'm loving that even though Andy and I are basically ships passing in the night, we still managed to get out for a little brook trout fishing last Tuesday. We caught some beautiful young trout and then returned them right back to the stream. 

I'm loving that when I need to a green pepper when I'm making dinner that I just head out to the porch and pick one. And they say you can't grow peppers in northern Minnesota . . . .

I'm loving designing fun new headbands for my Etsy shop. They're just the right sized project for my pea-sized attention span these days and they're so cute.

Charcoal grey braid headband


I'm loving the never-ending batch of fridge pickles in our fridge. Our cucumber trellis is absolutely loaded with cucumbers this year. I may try my hand at some dill relish soon. Because who doesn't love a canning project?

What are you loving these days?

 

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Searching for 'Whelmed'

Chastity: I know you can be overwhelmed, and you can be underwhelmed, but can you ever just be whelmed?
Bianca: I think you can in Europe.
- 10 Things I Hate About You 

I've been on the lookout for "whelmed" lately. I'm trying to prove that you don't have to go to Europe to find it. On the other hand, a little European adventure right about now might be the perfect escape . . . .

The thing is, I've been feeling a little overwhelmed lately. While I know this is always the busiest time of the year in our household, I seemed blessed with seasonal amnesia and over the course of winter, I forget just how manic things can get at high summer. These days, just when I feel like I've gotten my arms wrapped around everything again, another shoe drops.

Bars need to be made for the neighborhood potluck (which I didn't attend because by this time in the summer I hate all people . . .joking . . . erm) . . .

Or the garden suddenly looks awfully thirsty . . .

Or I have a board meeting on my day off, followed by an interview for a freelance article, which means I don't get to town on my day off to do laundry and pick up groceries until after 4 in the afternoon.

Too many of the brief hours I spend in bed each night have been spent tossing and turning - worrying about how I'm going to get everything done the next day. On Monday morning, I realized enough was enough. I emailed one of my freelance editors and asked him to reassign one of my articles for the month. I've been a  reliable, hard working freelancer for this company on a monthly basis for nearly three full years, but I needed a (temporary) break.  I needed to go find whelmed.

Where does one find whelmed?

The berry patch is a good place to started. I picked my first two quarts of the season yesterday morning. Then yesterday afternoon, as though I hadn't proven my hunter-gather skills enough, Andy and I went out in the boat and I ended up landing a 21-inch whitefish. (Not what we were fishing for, but a welcome surprise.)

(My mom said she just loves dead fish pictures [sarcasm], so the photo above is for her. Forgive the crazy eyes and dopey, tourist-y hat. I'm trying to avoid sunburn this summer, which explains the hat, if not the eyes.) 

I think we can all agree that the last thing I need is another proverbial fish to fry, but an actual, physical fish to fry was pretty darn tasty and helpful in my quest for "life balance."

After a tasty dinner of fish, Andy headed off for training, I spent some quality time with the garden, fertilizing and watering at my own pace, enjoying the twilight and letting tomorrow worry about itself.

Where do you do to find "whelmed"

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Punching the Fast Forward Button

Alternative Title #1: Remember when I used to update this blog?
Alternative Title #2: The Week That Was: In Pictures I Didn't Take

This last week disappeared in a "wake-up, eat breakfast, work, throw together some semblance of supper, crash in front of the latest Netflix with knitting project, shower, sleep: rinse and repeat" blur. I hesitate to tell you how busy I am (I mean, we're all busy), but with me putting in close to an entire extra day of work on Monday (thank you board meetings and scheduling conflicts), I feel like this week flashed by in an especially fleeting manner.

Each morning, I try to get myself out of bed at a decent hour (really, I do not need nine hours of sleep), so I could work on some side projects, but other than getting one measly little article off to the editors, I haven't accomplished much beyond the daily 9-5 grind. Each morning, it seems like there's just enough time for breakfast, checking email and getting a couple quick little tasks done, then suddenly it's time for me to start pulling together lunch and packing up my work backpack for the walk to work. Convincing myself to take off my fuzzy slippers and change into work duds has been a struggle all week.  

Wait . . .am I whining?

I don't mean to. What I'm really trying to say, in a less than eloquent way, is that today is my Friday (!) and that I'm so ready for it. I'm ready for a couple days when the fuzzy slippers get to stay on indefinitely.

Because sometimes, I'd just like to be like this turtle I saw earlier this week: poking around at my own pace, taking time-outs to sun myself on a warm gravel road, pulling into my shell whenever I happen upon something I dislike. Of course, a turtle's life isn't always enviable - they run the risk of being crushed by fast moving vehicles, being carried off to who-knows-where in a dog's mouth, and they do move so slowly. But I feel like this past week I've been like the Hare in the "Tortoise and the Hare" fable and I'm ready to be the Tortoise, if only for a couple days.

In other news, we had two loon chicks hatch yesterday at my work place. You know what never gets old? Baby animals. They are just so stinkin' cute.

 

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I am the Rain King

They always say, be careful what you wish for . . .

Here on the Trail, after a good long week of near hysterics about how dry it was and how high the fire danger was, we've now apparently entered monsoon season. Since Thursday, we've gotten close to 4 inches of rain, plenty of moisture to keep the fire danger down for a good long while. While some are currently bemoaning the all too successful rain dancers, I rather like the rain.

That's not to say I don't feel the inconvenience of near constant rainfall. I'd hoped to have all of the seedlings in the ground by this date, but since there's currently standing water in the raised bed, it's not exactly prime planting weather. The little seedlings especially seem to be struggling with all the moisture. They could really use a nice sunny day so they could dry out a bit instead of tipping over the side of their peat pots with the look of death in their little leaves.

 

In the last couple day, I've managed to get all of the flowers and tomatoes in their permanent homes for the summer. As I bide my time, waiting to get the rest of the vegetables and herbs planted in the raised bed, what better activity to keep myself busy than a batch of Magnolia Bakery brownies? (Granted, I didn't have the cake flour or unsweetened chocolate the recipe called for, so these are made with a slightly lower amount of all-purpose flour, less sugar, and bittersweet chocolate.) Last night I made a batch of rhubarb sauce and am now scheming up a batch homemade vanilla rhubarb swirl ice cream.

Made in two 9x9" pans, because my 9x13"s are all occupied with seedlings

Of course, it hasn't all been fun, games and rhubarb ice cream. I wrote out my time card yesterday and realized that I haven't had a full day off since the 13th. Suddenly my burnout felt a little less wimpy and a little more acceptable. (To be clear, I only worked 80 hours this past pay period, the hours were just spread out in funny, funky ways.)  Opening day (Saturday) has come and gone and after the 175 visitors we had through the museum yesterday, I'm very much looking forward to the day off that tomorrow brings.   

This is the start of my third season at this place and much of the initial glamor and allure has worn away and it's likely time for me to start plotting what comes next. But I have to admit that a gift shop all stocked and ready for opening day is truly a thing of beauty.

Happy Memorial Day all. Enjoy your day off (if you have one) and celebrate the rain (if you have some). 
 

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Ding-Dong Merrily

There's eggnog in the fridge and a Christmas card on the shelf. 
There are presents in the making and budgets to be kept. 
Yet despite the cold, the darkness and the snow,
this Advent season is quickly ticking by and I've nothing to show. 

Lately, the blogosphere has been filled with merry posts about holiday decorating, holiday baking, and kids in Santa hats. It's lovely and it's fun, but it's making me feel like this:

Because this is how far I've got with my holiday decorating so far:
1) Open closet door
2) Pull down holiday decoration container
3) Shut closet door.
4) Open container.
5) Throw autumn/Halloween decorations into container.
6) Walk away.

And mind you, this happened a week ago. I have not walked back yet. The container is still sitting there in the corner, although I did move it farther out of sight this morning so I'd stop feeling so guilty about it.

It was pretty common place during my childhood for our Christmas tree and decorations to go up the day after Thanksgiving. However, Andy prefers we wait a little longer than that and considering the finite amount of space in the cabin and  my finite tolerance for Christmas trees weeping balsam needles all over the floor, the wait makes sense. So maybe a tree this weekend. Maybe.

To be honest, things are kind of a beautiful disaster at the moment. I'm up to my ears in deadlines and freelance projects. The house is such a disgusting pit that we try to intercept any visitors (namely, the UPS man) on the deck before they can catch a glimpse inside. We are still processing that frackin' deer.  (Don't worry, it's been frozen, we're just in the midst of round 2 of the sausage making.)

And my attempt to call off Christmas? Foiled. Foiled completely, my friends. After making my very mature and very important announcements that I was not doing presents nor Christmas cards this year, (Sorry guys. Sorry USPS) Andy started dogearing catalogs (I'm taking creative license with this fact) and then just this evening suggested that perhaps we should . . . send Christmas cards this year.

I'm off to get myself one strong glass of eggnog . . .  

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Something in the Air

Lately, there’s been something in the air. At first, as a series of blustery days churned up the lakes, riled the trees, and brought in cooler air, I assumed that strange buzz in the atmosphere was simply autumn’s arrival. But the fact that temperature inside my work place today reached 91.1 degrees today pretty much debunked that theory.

And there’s still something in the air. A sense of energy. And even more than a sense of energy, some sort of urgency. Something that prompts me to keep going even when my mind tells me the day is done. Something that has me reaching for the “get some zzzs” herbal tea on an 85 degree evening.

Maybe it’s the result of the solar storms last week that painted the night sky in lovely shades of northern lights.

 

Northern Lights | WTIP North Shore Community Radio, Cook County, Minnesota

Or maybe it has to do with planet alignment. Whatever it is, the last week I find my days starting strong, only to spend most of the work day cranky yet after heading home and making supper, I am struck by a sudden urge to “go” just when it really should be time to turn out the lights. Andy calls it the “summer doldrums.” It doesn’t seem like doldrums to me exactly (at least not early in the morning or late at night) but it definitely feels unsettled.

Part of the unsettledness is perfectly logical. The first half of the month is always more frantic than the second half as I pulled together the month’s allotment of freelance articles. Once we hit the 15th of the month, things slow down, or at least, the manner in which things unfold is based slightly more on my whims.

Tori over at Rabid Ink wrote an interesting post on working to relax and it strikes me that what she writes about might be part of what’s going on around here as of late. This summer has been a juggling act of a wide variety of projects and it’s easy to view any sort of free time as procrastination. Instead of taking a load off at the end of the day, I find it more comforting to sit at the computer and attempt to tap out a few sentences, paragraphs. Keep that up for too long and there’s bound to be a strange sense of energy in the air that’s morphed out of my control.

So I’m giving into the summer doldrums, the solar storms, the planets, visit from muse, whatever this disturbance is. I will work on freelance assignments by morning and type out commentaries in the evening hours while simultaneously blogging, scouring Writer’s Digest and Fund for Writers for ways to hone my writing craft and improve my platform, and crafting editorial calendars. It seems silly to sit passively in befuddlement when something beyond me seems to be prompting: go, go, go. Someday soon, I know I'll wake up and find whatever it was has disappeared and it'll be same ol', same ol'. But until then, I might as well get something done.

Have the summer “doldrums” or some other strange force hit where you’re at? What do you do to manage it?

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In Which Ada Becomes Trapped in a Crawl Space

It’s been one of those weeks. You know, where there’s so much going on and half of the stuff going on is stuff that needs to get done and the other stuff just looks really fun so you start getting up way too early to get all your work done and end up feeling like headache-y mess by the time 9 p.m. rolls around. It’s been kind of like that.

It’s been one of those weeks when you realize you’re probably so sluggish and cranky because you haven’t actually eaten anything in six hours. Where you start looking forward to a return to work because you need some peace and quiet after your days “off.” It’s been one of those weeks when it’s hard to look at your life with any sort of perspective.

After getting a large freelance project out the door yesterday morning, I felt better suited for a nap than a day at work. But since I innocently skipped across the magical bridge to adulthood land a few years back, I had no choice in the matter. Off to work I went.

Luckily, we were too busy at work for me to dwell on my sleep deprivation and before I knew, the day had slipped by. At closing time, I took down the bird feeders and brought them to the building’s crawl space, where we store them overnight to avoid tempting the neighborhood black bears. I lifted the latch on the outside of the crawl space’s door and stepped into the small, low space to set down the bird feeders.

Then the big gust of wind came. In a split second the crawl space door slammed shut. I pressed against the door. It had latched.

And I panicked. The pity steadily overcame the panic. I was so tired and hungry and the crawl space was dark, damp, smelly and the only thing to eat were some suet cakes and bird seed. I had to use the bathroom. I didn’t want to spend the next two hours it would take for Andy to think to come look for me with the mice in the crawl space of a historic lodge on the edge of the Boundary Waters.

I knocked lightly on the door, knowing no one was near enough to hear such a feeble declaration of my predicament. There was a thumb-sized peephole directly beneath the metal lever which had fallen in the latch. I wiggled my fingers through the hole, trying to push the lever up and out of the latch. Then I tried kicking. I kicked one, twice, and on the third time the door sprung open and I emerged into the sunlight. The whole ordeal took about 30 seconds, but it was just enough to time to make me realize that I’d rather be out in the daylight having “one of those weeks” than trapped in a dingy crawl space.

It all reminded me of how Jimi Hendrix sang: “I used to live in a room full of mirrors, all I seen was me. Well I can’t stand it no more, so I smash the mirror and set me free.” It wasn’t really that dramatic, but it kind of felt like it.

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Best Intentions Part II . . .

No, no more disgusting pictures of my smoked back. Not to worry, the sunburn will soon be a distant memory when it fades away in about six months. . . .

No, today we discuss what happens when you decide to tap each day for its full potential. Or what doesn’t happen . . . .

Back in the dead of winter last year, when the days were short and dark, the money was scarce, and we lived in 12x20 Shack, I started to say yes to a lot of projects, jobs, assignments, etc. that sounded exciting and fun and just generally a really good idea. Sure I’d have time for it all, I thought. I’d just have to be willing to go full out every single day this summer. (Thank goodness I have no children!)

But lately I haven’t been going full out every day. Instead, it’s felt like I’m running into a wall. I plan to get up early but only succeed in rolling out of bed just as Andy’s hitting the road to work. By then, after the physical therapy exercises are done, breakfast is fixed and lunch is packed, there’s very little time left in my morning before it’s time to start thinking about heading to work. All day at work, I tell myself at night I’ll get the freelance work done. Yet when I get home, it’s generally sounded like more fun to bake a pie or hunker down with a cup of tea and the novel (Haunted Ground by Erin Hart) I’m reading.

Then on Wednesday afternoon, while Andy was off at fire training, I discovered the shelves in our bedroom -- meant to organize all my important papers – looking like this:

Not a single pay stub, bank statement, or anything else had been filed since after I’d gotten home from New York City . . . in April. I filed all the miscellaneous papers draped across the shelves and the printer (which is out of ink). It took all of fifteen minutes. So I decided I’d had enough with not doing what I should be doing just because other things sound like more fun. (The novel I’m reading really is intriguing.)

Last night I stayed up after Andy crashed into bed and wrote a “to-do” list that’s actually broken into bite-sized chunks. I made up an editorial calendar for this blog. (Yes, I’m attempting to semi-focus the “Of Woods and Words” content so the blog can be described, vaguely, as something other than my rambling thoughts.) There are plenty of walls out there for me to run into, but I’m through with this one. No more letting my best intentions get the best of me.

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Being A Tourist in Your Backyard

Yesterday, as the result of an exciting new freelance opportunity, I had an excuse to spend the night downtown in my hometown. The NYC trip of April had started to fade into “far away” and frankly with the vast amount of highway construction along the one getaway route out of town -- Hwy 61 -- makes a quick day trip anywhere outside of the county anything but quick. Schedules have been consistently chaotic so we’ve pretty much hunkered down in the woods.

Time for a change.

Last night, even though I was only an hour away from the cabin and about five minutes away from my parents’ place, I was anxious for the excuse to shake things up a bit.

And the very best part was that my friend Kati agreed to be my travel companion. Since I sometimes look at as Andy as he walks through the door at the end of the day and think, “oh, do you live here too?”, you can only imagine what effect being uber busy and living an hour away from town has had on friendships. There was some much needed catching up to take care of.

We made the most of the time we had. For supper, we cooked up some wonderful homemade pizza. Then, once I was sufficiently full of cheese, pepperoni, and root beer, Kati suggested we go spend the rest of the evening playing some pick up soccer. While I was playing, I felt like I was 16 again, albeit, missing a bit of that handy hand-eye coordination I had back then in my soccer playing days. Today I feel like I’m about 60. Ya know, who needs knees anyway?

This morning, after a fitful night of sleep in a strange location, we headed down the street for a bit of breakfast. Afterward, although there were plenty of things I could have been doing, we opted to play tourist a little bit more. There are a couple new businesses in town and although I’d written preview pieces about both businesses' openinga, I hadn't been inside yet to get a glimpse of the final product. We poked around in those two stores, along with a few other gift shops, then headed out to the lighthouse.

In the end, we decided if you were really, truly a tourist in this town, it wouldn’t be half bad. I guess that's not a surprising conclusion to reach when the skies are blue, the conversation is pleasant, and there's nothing that truly needs to be done except enjoy the warm sun and gentlest of breezes.

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God Only Has One Shoe

I was raised a pessimist optimist. I hope for the best, but prepare for the worst. I never quite believe that good things are going to happen.

But lately, although it’s been busy, a bevy of good things have been occurring. Work is good; home is beautiful; life is happy. Freelance writing opportunities keep popping up, offering hope that someday soon I really will make my living with my pen.

And all the little seeds we sewed a few months ago have suddenly burst into beautiful blooms.

So when is the other shoe going to drop?

In Anne Lamott’s novel, Blue Shoe, the main character bemoans to her best friend that she’s afraid of the other shoe dropping at any minute.

“God only has one shoe,” says the friend.

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Money Can't Buy You . . . Health Care?

Yesterday, my first errand set me behind schedule. I spent the rest of the day running late until finally after supper, Andy proposed we go lake trout fishing. As I sat in the bobbing boat, it felt like the first time I’d sat still all day.

I had a moment as I was driving home last night. I was halfway home and still had one last errand to run. This after a day of laundry, grocery shopping, recording a commentary, finishing up a documentary, and making two batches of blueberry jam among other sundry errands. And it was my day off.

“Why am I doing this?” I thought to myself. Don’t get me wrong, I really like what I do and it’s my resistance to let go of any of my tasks that leads to my days off wearing me out more than my work days. As of late, I also get compensated fairly well for my efforts and after a pretty pauper-ish winter, that feels pretty good. But is it worth it? At the end of the day do the numbers in my online bank statement justify the bags beneath my eyes?

Conventional wisdom is that if you work your butt off when you’re younger so that you can reap the benefits in your old age. But since retirement seems to be going the way of the American Dream, one has to wonder: what if it’s always like this?

When I was researching an end of life article a few months back, I spoke with a health care provider who said, “You can do whatever you want at the end of your life, as long as you can pay for it.” Okay, I’m picking up what you’re putting down, but really are our lives spelled out in such crude monetary terms?

I’ve yet to reconcile myself with the fact that my gross annual income plunks me right in the midst of the middle class and prevents me from getting any possible break on my health insurance. What? I’m not still just a poor college student? It’s just no fun watching big bits of your paycheck whoosh away towards a health care plan you can’t really afford to use. No fun, but a cultural sucker punch I’m willing to deal with because I’m not willing to have a medical emergency bankrupt me.

I kept driving and kept thinking and I realized the running around happens for a few reasons. First of all, there are bills to pay. Of course, if I made a little less money, it seems I’d have access to better health care options. But that’s just not worth it, not when comes the biggie: many, many, many years from now, I don’t want to die in some miserable, icky nursing home because it was all I could afford. Oh I know, things change, fiscal security comes and goes, but when I deeply wonder what the heck I’m doing this all for, all I have to do is imagine some really awful nursing home. There will come a day when the running around ceases and when that day comes, I want to be darn sure that I get to spend it in a place with a nice garden.

So I run around. Partly because of the imaginary icky nursing home. But mostly, because I wouldn’t want to not do anything of the things I’m doing this summer.

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The Two-Gallon Challenge (Wordless Wednesday)

Never knowing what my schedule might do next, I thought it best to devote my free day yesterday to the pursuit of berries: 32.5 cups worth of blueberries to be exact. Sweet success!

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