Turning the Page to a New Decade

Happy New Year, and welcome to the ‘20s! I pray you have a year filled with love, with light, and with laughter. May it be a year of friends and family filling your home and a year when you are able to fill others up as well. Take time to notice the details. Love the people God has placed in your path. Be bold and try something new. Live your story. 

Enjoy the journey!

Blessings to you.

Cumberland Island Discoveries and Delights

Yesterday was a special day for our family. We traveled north about an hour to St. Mary’s, Georgia, where we caught the ferry that carried us to Cumberland Island for the day. Cumberland Island is one of the many barrier islands located off the coast of Georgia. It’s also a national seashore. It has quite a history. The Timucuan tribe made its home here. So did a Catholic mission in the 16th century (along with several Spanish forts). European settlers lived on the island during the Revolutionary and Civil Wars. And most recently, the Carnegie family made a vacation home on the island, bringing with them more than two hundred staff to help keep it running in the family’s requisite standard of opulence. The Stock Market crash in the ‘30s and an ensuing fire in the estate home, Dungeness, caused the family to leave it for good. The National Park Service eventually acquired the land in 1972, and what resulted is a gorgeous, mostly uninhabited island replete with thick forests, marshland, beaches, and the haunting ruins of a time of magnificent wealth.

The ferry ride left at 9:00, and we had several hours to explore the place before our 2:45 journey back to the mainland. Not knowing for sure how much we would find to do, we chose to leave on the first ferry back, but we could have taken a later one or even camped overnight if we had wanted to. The ferry ride lasted about forty-five minutes. We disembarked and started walking along a 4.5 mile trail, keeping our eyes open for the island’s feral horses. There are approximately 140 of these animals left to shift for themselves on the island.

I hope you enjoy the photos. There are quite a few. I look forward to returning again. Perhaps next time we will even camp overnight at one of the primitive camp sites. 

 There is so much life on the island. I noticed these mushrooms just off of the trail.

This photo was taken on the main road of the island. Like most barrier islands, this island is skinny east to west, but stretches out quite a bit north to south. The road runs north to south. You can rent bicycles on the island, which would allow you to ride to the north end, but we elected to hike and stay on the south side.

Not the best shot, but these are two turkeys near the ruins of Dungeness.

Entering Dungeness from the land side. 

Merry Christmas from the Mausers, standing on the broad front lawn of Dungeness.

Looks like a pump house to me. Not really sure what it was. The marsh stretches out in front of it. 

This shot was taken in front of Dungeness and looking out over the water. A dock is nearby.

So peaceful!

This is a small graveyard on the island. The oldest grave dates to just after the Revolutionary War. The woman who died lived through the war on this island.

Armadillos are found on the island. This one was just a few feet away.

Turning away from the ruins, we started walking toward the other side of the island and came out on the dunes.

Lonely. Quiet. Beautiful.

Jacob was using his grandfather’s Canon AE-1 to capture some great black and white photos.

A beautiful beach with wide boundaries.

There are beautiful and rare shorebirds that gather on its shores.

This photo is taken near the end of the shore trail. We are about half a mile away from the pick up spot. It’s later in the afternoon, and we’ve walked all over.

Beautiful oak trees just on the other side of the dunes. More than one hurricane has blown through this island, twisting and tangling their branches.

My men walking back to the ferry spot.

I’m wearing my Macabi travel skirt. It was perfect for the hike—not too cool, not too warm. I had been wearing my Tom Bihn wool ball cap earlier in the day but switched to wearing a buff on the beach to protect my ears. I can’t handle strong winds blowing in my ears. It makes them ache. The buff functioned perfectly, if not exactly fashionably, for my needs. I’m also carrying my Synapse 19 backpack. It’s the perfect pack for a day’s hike. Boots are my trusty Keens. I’ve worn them all over for hikes, including in the Rocky Mountains. My shirt is from Duluth Trading and is super comfortable.

Waiting for the ferry to arrive, I had ample time to keep working on the cuff of my sock.

After looking all day, we finally found horses! There were three. This one appears to be a mama and her colt. Since the horses receive no care, they have to work hard to find food to survive. There was also a stallion nearby.

One more short walk before boarding the ferry.

It was a great day. We were happy and tired on our journey home. The weather had been perfect. I’m looking forward to returning to the island again someday.

Legacy

It's been too long again. Sigh. I miss this space, to tell you the truth. But that's a different story for a different day. It's Mother's Day. It's a time to shower our mothers with love. When I say the word mother, I don't necessarily mean the woman who gave birth to you. She may be a woman who stepped in when your own mother could not or would not fulfill her role.

As pleased as I am to have this special day in honor of mothers, I know that it also comes packed with sorrow for many. Not all of us had mothers in our lives who blessed. Some of us have lost our mothers. Some of us desperately want to be mothers and are unable.

This year I wrote a poem in honor of my mother. It was an opportunity to sit, remember, and reflect. It's small and insignificant on its own, but it packs some powerful memories for me. I suggest you give it a go yourself. Sit down with a piece of paper and a pen, and reflect.

Legacy

A voice most precious

Passes through my dreams.

And I recall

Kisses,

Corrections,

and Caresses.

The honeysuckle scent of White Shoulders.

A sweet soprano vibrato.

Mother

Your hands which once grasped mine

Grasp the Savior's now.

But Love lives forever,

Your legacy lives on

In my children's azure eyes, happy voices

Carefree smiles, and my own

Mother's heart.

Blessings through the generations.

Mom's burial place at Langley Cemetery.

nativity

You can take the girl out of Kansas, but you can't take Kansas out of the girl...

I have been privileged to have lived in a lot of places. Texas, Arkansas, Ohio, and Florida have all been my home at one time or another. Each and every place holds special memories, but out of them all, there is one place that claims my heart--Kansas.

A Kansas sunset from the back of Dad's Silverado

I was born in this state and spent my childhood here. As I grew up, the roots of my home state grew down and firmly fixed me in place. Even as I moved around, Kansas remained in my heart.

I've returned, albeit briefly. I'm here for a few days, and then it will be time to fly south again, this time with Dad and his camper. But for two days, I can soak in some Kansas vibes.

This morning's tea was drunk in this spot. 

I arrived late in the afternoon in Wichita. Looking from my bird's eye view in the sky, I noticed the capricious winding of the small river (Smoky Hill), the massive center pivot irrigation lines, and the plateaus that jutted up out of the flat expanse of the prairie. And I noticed how sparsely populated the area was. There is still room to breathe in this space.

We landed and immediately headed north to my hometown of Lindsborg, Kansas. As we drove, the sun sank into the horizon and the weather grew colder.

This morning, the weather felt like 11 degrees as we drove to the coffee shop. It was still dark. Arriving first, I sipped on my tea as I watched shop keepers and farmers arrive for their morning cup and conversation. Then we were off again.

This time we turned the truck west, to Langley Cemetery and my mother's burial spot. As we drove, it began to ice over. The truck was warm, but outside was not. It was cold, icy, and mournful. To avoid the slippery K4 highway, we turned off early and drove down dirt roads past my grandparent's old farm. No one lives there at present, so we took the opportunity to drive up the long drive to see the old place.

The railroad went this way. 

Grandma and Grandpa's drive used to be bisected by the railroad tracks. They have long since disappeared, but I can remember a time when my young legs would carry me as fast as they could whenever I would hear the whistle of the train. I knew it was coming down the line, and I would run to watch the monster engine roar past. It was always a special treat to have the conductor wave from his caboose at the end.

The family home, no longer occupied

The tracks are just a memory now, but I saw hints of them as we drove up the lonely drive. They live on in my memory, though.

We didn't spend much time there; technically it is private property, but I just wanted to peek at it one more time. The barn was still standing. We didn't drive down to it, but I remember going down there to see Barney the Bull out in the fields. My sister and I spent hours chasing the feral barn cats. If, by some chance, we were able to catch one, our reward was to be rudely scratched by them. It didn't dissuade us at all. My arms were full of scratches!

Not far from the home is the cemetery. It's small but peaceful. I love it there. The ice was still falling as I got out of the truck and walked around.

New signage! 

It was very cold and very windy. We didn't stay long. I captured a few photos and then we left.

It's good to be back. It feels good to feel cold. It's wonderful to see my father. He has more silver in his hair than the last time I saw him. He wears it well.

I love this state. It feels like home to me. I suspect it always will. But it will be good to get back to my family. I miss them. And warmth!

Decisions, Decisions!

Every day we are accosted with hundreds of decisions to make—

Can I hit the snooze bar one more time?

Do I wear the jeans or yoga pants?

Should I eat the salad or the burger for lunch?

Should I tackle the garden or tackle the laundry?

Do I take a break, or should I try to accomplish one more task?

Most of the time we make these decisions without hesitation. Daily decisions are ingrained in our daily grind, and reflexively we decide, move on, and forget as we conquer the next task on our perpetual list of to-dos.

Except on some days, the decision is much more significant, a weighty stone in our thoughts that we turn over, linger over, and breathe upon to polish up the possibilities and ponder the potential. These are the decisions that we remember, accompanied as they are with the gravitas of the implications of our decision. They are Frost’s “The Road Not Taken,” and they flavor our lives and even the lives of the people with whom we surround ourselves. They change us.

Lately I’ve been pondering one of those decisions I made a long time ago. Twenty years ago at this very moment, I was carrying my first child. My husband and I had prayed for this child, and we were so excited to meet him. One evening, while standing at our kitchen sink washing dishes, I casually threw over my shoulder to my husband the words, “I’ve been thinking about homeschooling.” I didn’t realize it at the time—well, perhaps I actually did, but I couldn’t fully accept it.  I had already decided. I wanted to homeschool, and now I was asking the partner of my heart to bless that decision.

Pause

In the silence of the few seconds while my husband digested my words, I feared. I worried that he would immediately shut me down, citing fears over socialization, fears over academics, fears over our loss of income. Fears over my hubris that I thought I could actually do it. That I could accomplish something that requires such special training.

Pause

Except he didn’t. He looked at me in love. Yes, I had surprised him, and he had justifiable concerns, some of which he did enumerate. But he also said that he trusted me, and that together we would learn about this lifestyle called homeschooling and make a decision together.

And in that moment, I was reminded again about why I loved him so much. I had surprised him, but I hadn’t angered him. And he hadn’t dismissed me.

I began to read about homeschooling, and when our son was born in the summer, we embarked upon a homeschooling lifestyle. Throughout those years I continued to make decisions, some big and some little, that taken together have shaped our family and crafted our children, as well as my husband and me. I have learned over and over (because I am a slow learner!) that I can’t do it all and do it all well. I have learned to let some things go in order to hone in areas that are more critical. I have seen my children come into their own and develop their own passions free of the strictures of a traditional education. And I’ve made more mistakes than I care to admit along the way.

My children are closer to the end of their educational journey in our home. My oldest is now happily ensconced at Stetson University as an Honors Student and Lawson Scholar studying the nuances of literature and philosophy. My middle child is bridging his homeschooling experiences as he explores dual enrollment at St. Johns River State College. He loves participating in the Rotaract Club and has a 4.0 GPA currently. My youngest is the only one still being fully homeschooled. A true Bohemian at heart, she embraces life through her art and her service to the wolves at Big Oak Wolf Sanctuary.

I have no regrets. I have scars from the experience that I will carry with me to my grave. Most often these have arisen out of my own stubbornness, but my mistakes have also been a part of what has shaped our family, and I wouldn’t undo them. Grace has covered us all, and I am so happy to reflect back on our time as a homeschooling family with fond memories. It is not a lifestyle that everyone can or should embrace, but for our family it has been a source of continued blessing.

Would my own children choose a homeschooling lifestyle? Maybe. Maybe not. Whatever path they choose, I will choose to support and love them. We are all on a journey in this life. My journey happened to be a bit unconventional, and that has made all the difference!

Still

It's a new year, and I begin again. 2017 beckons. 2016 is put away, along with all its joys and disappointments, pleasures and pains.

At this time of year, our church begins its annual fast. For many in the church, that means a Daniel Fast. I have participated in these in prior years, but this year I am feeling pulled in a different direction.

My life is incredibly busy. Homeschooling, tutoring, and working a part-time job sometimes threaten to overwhelm me. I am instead going to carve out daily time for reflection and meditation. Fifteen minutes of every day, I will disconnect from the world to be still, and wait, and listen.

Psalm Forty-Six, verse ten states "Be still, and know that I am God." Stillness, the quality of being still, is not something I do easily. If I sit down for even thirty seconds, I am looking for something to do with my hands. And even if I do sit, my mind whirls with worldly worries. Stillness is elusive.

Yet, it is precisely what I need. For without being still, God's voice cannot reach me. I become deaf and blind as I spin about my tiny sphere. I starve from my hyperactivity.

Fifteen minutes is my aim. Fifteen minutes where I sit in stillness and contemplate Him Who created grass and mountain, sun shine and dew drop. Such a pathetically small amount of time, and yet I worry I will fail even in this modest goal.

And so I forge ahead, full of hope for a new year, newly inspired by resting in Him. And being still.

A Spin on the Tour in 2016

I skipped out last year. I saw it was coming up and decided to bail at the last second. This year, though, I couldn't wait to get started again. The Tour de Fleece kicked off, just as it always does, with the opening day of the Tour de France.

Lupine helps in his first ever TdF!

I had big plans. After all, it had been almost a full year since I'd spun anything and over a year since I'd spun on my wheel. I had two bumps of Malabrigo Nube top that I figured I'd begin with. I quickly saw I was going to need to change plans, though, when I opened up the bag of my spinning wheel and saw that I'd completed half of an earlier project:  a braid from Edgewood Garden Studio on Etsy. It was a carded preparation that still had some VM in it as well as a few nubs. I liked the rustic feel of it. I began with spinning the other half of it and then plied it on my Majacraft Rose. I love how it turned out. It was very challenging to match the grist and twist of the yarn. After all, it had been nearly two years since I'd spun the first single, but I think I mostly succeeded.

Here is the end result.

I had a small amount of singles left on one bobbin, so I put it on a plying paddle to ply it back against itself.

Plying paddle with singles

Next up, a small braid from Dragon Faery Dyeworks. I believe I picked this little beauty up when I was in Colorado Springs, CO visiting my sister and her family.

This particular braid is a mix of Blue Faced Leicester (BFL) and Silk. It weighs in at only 1.9 ounces. I decided to spin it as a lace weight in order to maximize it, and here is where I'll likely remain for the duration of the Tour, as I am beastly slow at spinning lace. 

There are worse places a person could be stuck. Spinning lace is one of the nicest if you ask me! It is so much fun to see the color changes as I spin the thin thread. I'm spinning in a worsted style to maximize the shine of the silk and BFL, but I'm also focusing on a low twist ratio to have some character imparted to the yarn. If you look at the close-up, you'll see there's almost a bit of haze to it. I don't know how it will translate into the final plied product, but it's an experiment I'm really getting into!

For breaks from the long lace spinning, there's always my perpetual spindle project to break it up.

This particular spindle came from the Trindleman on Etsy. It spins like a dream- long and smooth, and it's making nice work of this Merino!

I don't have nearly as much spinning time as I would like. Despite it being summer, there is still so much I am doing. Tutoring kicks up into high gear in the summer; and with the work I'm doing for IEW and my own homeschool planning, not to mention the basics like laundry and cooking, my spinning time comes in small pockets of time. I am choosing to savor the time and not bemoan the absence of it. After all, life is good!