Keep Your Chin Up

I hope you know what if feels like to have someone be consistently proud of you.   I hope you have someone in your life that can always impart a quiet wisdom, that can bolster your confidence and build you up from the inside out.  I hope that there is someone in your life that can make you feel better just for having been in their presence.  A person that affirms what you know in your soul to be true.

 

I know what that feels like, and I am grateful everyday.

 

I have been feeling particularly defeated lately.  My saving grace has been my Grandad's voice in my ear -

 

"KEEP YOUR CHIN UP".

 

I am.  And I will.  Because his pride in me is a light that I refuse to let be extinguished.

 

 

My Grandad and my daughter, Clare on Christmas Eve 2014.

 

Trying

Do you ever have days or moments where you feel you are trying so hard, but accomplishing nothing?  My whole last week was like that.  Working so hard, but coming up short every time.  Nothing seemed to go my way.  Every moment of every day was a battle.

It's trying, and it tends to wear a person down.  But what can you do?  Nothing.  Just keep trying.

This morning is another wet one- nothing to do outside but go for a walk and take pictures. 

Everything was covered in raindrops, and the finest mist was in the air.

Calm After the Storm

Yesterday afternoon dark clouds rolled in and thunder boomed. Rain poured down.  Afterwards we were left with a perfect calm.  Mist was rising from the lake, and still water punctuated by the odd rain drop.

I had been running on the treadmill while the storm crashed on, lightning flashing and rain lashing the window panes.  I became totally lost in the run and when I was done, looked out the window.

It just reminded me, once again, that there is so much to see when we just take the time to look.

Let Go

If you know me personally, you know that I am very organized, bordering on controlling.  I can frustrate easily, and deal with a fair amount of anxiety when things don't happen my way, or in the timeline I prefer.

Parenting a young child both aggravates that, and is a cure.  I find the more expectations I place on a day, the more disappointed I am when I don't accomplish what I've set out to do.  I've come to realize that if I plan to just be a good mom, anything else that happens is just a bonus.  I am much more patient and calm.  I can deal with upsets and stress with a mind toward the big picture.

It's not easy for me to think this way, and I need to keep reminding myself of my long-term goals - raise a happy kid, have a calm house.

So, my peas aren't in the ground yet, I haven't done anything with the front garden beyond raking and general tidying, and the garden shed is a mess.

That's all okay.  It can wait. 

And now I'm going outside to figure out how to plant peas with a kid strapped to my back.

Baby Steps

I like gardening, but I don't consider myself a gardener...yet.  I enjoy the results and I think I know a decent amount about plants and they way they grow, but I haven't had enough experience to claim the title of gardener.
Truth be told, I'm rather intimidated by my expanse of land on which I have to plant things.  I had gardens back in Tottenham - a small vegetable patch and a few perennial beds.  In comparison, my beds here are massive, and I certainly have the space to grow pretty much anything my heart desires.

The neglected vegatable garden

Last year we did nothing, and I mean nothing with the garden.  I was still feeling somewhat shell-shocked and with the baby it was difficult to get out and work in the yard.  It was also a brutal  year for bugs. This year my focus is the vegetable garden.  I will let the ornamental beds do what they want, and will keep them tidy and maybe plant a thing or two, but I have no real plans for them this season.

I have to take it one step at a time, and seeing as the vegetable garden will be the most productive, I'm starting there first.  This year will bring it's own trials, I'm sure, but I can't make excuses anymore.  Henry is older now, but he is also just learning to walk, and while amazing to watch, gives us a whole new set of challenges.  I embrace them though, because how else can I move forward?

And so, just as my young son is learning how to walk on his own two small feet, so will I tackle the vegetable garden.  I believe what I will yield will go far beyond simple tomatoes, carrots and peas.  I hope to find something of myself out there among the plants and soil that will sustain us through many seasons to come.

A Collection of Sunrises

Each of these photos were snapped on different days. 

I love waking in the morning and being greeted by such amazing skies.  It doesn't matter to me whether the sunrise is purple, pink, blue, orange or yellow cream; I find renewal and inspiration in every single one. 

Going Around the Mountain

Spring has a way of showing us things that we hadn't noticed before.  After the snow melts, but before anything starts growing, we are presented with a landscape that is laid bare.  The fields and forest floors are flat and sodden with last fall's grasses and leaves.  The lay of the land is clear.  The canopies are open, illuminating previously dark corners of the woods.

Yesterday we went out for a walk in the field and forest edge across the road.  Part of our trek included a section that my husband's family called "going around the mountain".

I enjoy doing these hikes with Rick.  I like hearing tales from his childhood and feeling connected to a piece of land in a way that I never have before.  It's on these walks that my faith in our choice to move here is reaffirmed.  This connection to land, water, rock, and deep rooted family history is what I want.  

Gains and Losses

Here's another one of those perfect winter things. 

When the snow on bare branches looks like this:

I know it's still only January, and we are in the heart of winter, but time moves fast and these perfect days are winding down.  Soon there will be slush and rain.  I'll blink and it will be Spring.

These thoughts weigh heavy on me because as March looms on the horizon, so does my boy's first birthday.  A time of joy and celebration, sure, but also a time of sweet sadness for me.  He's growing.  So fast.  Too fast.

I've been thinking lately in terms of gains and losses.

Each day with him I gain.  An almost word, a new smile, a new look, a new way to make him laugh.  But I lose, too.  His baby-ness fading.  His boyishness growing.  I think ahead to a time when I won't be his whole world.  The thought fills me with happiness, imagining how he will be and who he will be - but it also hurts.

And so, on this perfect winter day, I find my heart aching for the baby he was and the boy he is becoming.

Maybe loss isn't the right word.

Like the snow, moments accumulate.  Unlike the snow, these moments won't go away.  They populate my inner landscape.  My memory becomes a ball of yarn, wound around with a string of endless sweet days and beautiful firsts with an amazing little boy.

Finding Myself on Maple Lake

In April of 2011, just 7 weeks after the birth of our son, we moved to Maple Lake.  Purchasing this house and property had been a dream of my husband's for many years.  His grandparents had decided it was time to move into a smaller home, but also wanted to keep the property in the family.  So, we bought the farm, so to speak.

I completely understood his drive to be here.  My own grandparents moved to Parry Sound from Ahmic Lake, Magnetewan.  If I had been in a position to buy that property, I would have.  My best childhood memories are from Ahmic Lake.  I knew where my husband was coming from and how important it was to him.

How could I say no?

We decided to move after the baby was born, and put the house on the market.  It sold within three days.  Everything was falling in to place and it all seemed perfect.

I had my reservations about the move and about the house, and I spoke up about them.  We talked them through, or so I thought.  To be honest I think I ignored my gut instinct throughout the whole process.  My gut instinct usually tells me everything I need to know. 

Yes, I wanted it.  But more, I wanted to be able to do this for my husband.  To do it for my 25 year old self who hadn't been able to do the same.

We moved Easter weekend.  I am going to leave out all the nitty-gritty details, but in short, I wasn't happy.  I sucked it all up and powered through the day with the help of my grandparents who arrived like a cavalry, bringing cookies and shoulders to cry on.  In their usual fashion, they got straight down to business, cleaning cupboards and unpacking boxes. I am forever grateful to them for shining some light on my situation that day.

The next morning my reality slammed into me like a brick wall.  Hard.  I felt alone, overwhelmed and unbearably sad.  MISTAKE screamed and echoed in my head.

I felt that we'd left our first home without much thought because we were so enthusiastic about the move.

I felt so incredibly stupid.  I can't express that strongly enough.  I'd visited this house for ten years.  I knew the issues.  I understood where I was moving to.  I had been on board every step of the way.  I'd been open about my hesitations.  Worked through them.

But still.  I was not happy.  Many, many tears were shed.  I felt like I was crushing my husband.  It killed me to see the disappointment and pain in his eyes.  More than anything, he wanted to make me happy, too.

I spent the spring, summer and fall guarding against and pushing away loneliness and sadness that crept up and struck with no warning.  I would find myself standing in my driveway overcome with tears, feeling pulled in a myriad of directions.  I was homesick and missed so much about a place that I really did want to leave.  It was perplexing.

Slowly, slowly my days started to improve.  Bad days became fewer and less intense.  I talked.  I shared all of my negative thoughts and feelings with my husband who was ever patient.  Make jokes about my situation.  Started to like some things about being here.  The quiet, the space, the beauty just outside my door.  The scales were tipping.

Now winter has arrived and I can honestly say that there are things about living here that I love.  The tress covered in new snow.  Perfect sunrises over the lake.  Privacy.  Wide open spaces. 

I spent three seasons feeling un-anchored, having a house but no home.  I  know now that home is wherever my love is.  My son.  My husband.  And really, that's what brought me around.  I still have days where I stop and think "How on earth did this happen?", but in my gut I know my home is here.  Maple Lake.