It feels an age since I have put any thoughts down..... It is virtually impossible to summarize almost two years of life, overflowing on every side, to a few paragraphs. The twins are now 2, and so is Luke, currently. The girls are 7 and 8, and are doing well. I encourage them regularly to grow into my "little women," and though there are times I feel like no one ever, ever listens to me, they are, actually, making progress. We all are. School is usually fun for all of us; lots of poems to memorize and books to read keep the imagination lively with colorful, creative ideas for play, while the structure of math provides a framework of absolute certainty that never changes.
As I type all this, I am struck - as I momentarily am each day - by the blessed sound of...nothing. I never tire of that sound - but only because I never get a chance to. I know someday that will change, but for now - There are days when my mind and soul are literally gasping for quiet like a fish gasps for water. By the time three little heads snuggle down to rest and refuel for another run at life, I am often ready to weep with relief. It hardly needs said that naps are the saving grace of all mothers of young children, everywhere.
I ordered my garden seeds today, and new strawberry plants. We have lived in our home for over 6 years now, and the seasonal routine has begun to take on a predictability that I find comforting. I am now able, with some degree of confidence, to at least predict the GENERAL ebb and flow of the coming months. Nothing in life is ever truly predictable, as we all know. But there is something very centering in being able to look ahead at the calendar months and just know some things about them. For me, this comes from having a garden, and living close to the cycle of the earth and the seasons. For example, I know that I will be busy putting up peas and strawberries sometime the end of June/beginning of July. And that towards the end of July (and again next January) life will strike a brief lull, and that during those long hot (and then cold) afternoons and evenings, I will actually have time (or at least make time) to brush up on certain subjects by doing a little extra reading. I know that in February I will order garden seeds, and perhaps start some seedling trays, with more to follow in March. I know that in early May I will be sneaking outside every chance I get to just BREATHE in the fresh spring air and smell the grass turning green! I know that May and June are sometimes busy (and expensive) with weddings and graduations and planting; that July is frantic with birthdays. I know that August is a busy pickling month. I know that in September I will be (hopefully) canning tomatoes during every spare moment, and that in early October I will be sick of it all and desperately trying to finish up the last of the canning while anxiously waiting for the apples on our very late-bearing tree to fully ripen before it snows. And that the minute it is all finally - FINALLY - put away, it is time to start planning for the winter holiday season!
I also know that through it all, everything else in life must go on, as well - learning/school, house renovations/repairs, potty-training, visiting family and friends. Friday afternoon tea with the girls. Wednesday afternoon art and music lessons. Planning, preparing, and cleaning up over 1,000 meals per year (snacks not included), and just as many loads of laundry! Learning to be a better wife, a more patient mother, a more thoughtful friend.
Life, in a nutshell.... is beautiful....and brief. I stood at my grandmother's graveside not three weeks ago, and was struck again by the fact that she was once young, like I am. She was once busy in the throes of young motherhood, and ranching, then on to other exciting adventures and opportunities as that season passed her by. As I watched her sleep - always she seemed to be sleeping, those last several months of life - I kept thinking, how fitting. How beautiful. My grandmother, at 85, was still beautiful to me. Beautiful because she was, in her sleep, at rest. Simply, at rest. When I would watch her peaceful breathing at the nursing home those last few times, I thought - she's just catching up on all her missed rest. With nothing left to do, she was, finally, resting. Resting for all those days, all those years, when she raced frantically to keep up with life's demands. Life raced by for her, as it now is for me. I stood with all ten of my cousins for a picture and thought - how odd. Our children are all the ages I remember being, so vividly, when we cousins played together as kids. Life is beautiful. But oh, how brief.
But life is most beautiful when we are at rest. At peace. Like a little child that sleeps before taking another run at life. Like a grandmother that sleeps because her life has been run, and there is nothing left, but to rest.