When Jess reprimands Bean, it sounds sweet and mildly squeaky, like this: “Beeeaan-nahh, nooo-ahh!! Why-yahh??” Terrifying to him, I am sure. Then she says, “Oh mi amor, I love you” and snuggles him face to snoot, a maximum amount, to ensure a swift reconciliation.
We spent a nice slice of Monday afternoon on the deck, beneath that one big blackjack tree that covers the firepit, talking and painting and talking. Also talking. The dogs played and dug holes in the sand; the south flock luxuriated in the mild weather; and somewhere in the magic of it all we heard pigs. Actual oinking pigs. Plural, based on the layered sounds. Romulus, Klaus and Bean all responded excitedly to the foreign voices, so Jess and I knew it was not imaginary. I climbed the red gate and walked over to check the little strip of woodsy expanse between our property and our neighbors’, but found no pigs. I did, however, discover a tightly packed heap of children’s toys in a nest of Virginia Creeper. Half buried, mudcaked, but arranged in an almost ceremonial pattern, with a torn tote bag nearby. Exactly the kind of sight that would make an excellent beginning for a true crime podcast series. More on that idea soon.
Today, the farm is soaked to her bones from overnight rains, and we are enjoying a brief respite from the July heat. Our pond is full to its banks. The lawns are spongy. The tree limbs and flowering branches of crepe myrtle, rose of sharon, and thornless blackberry are all heavy with water, nodding low like sleepy horse necks.
After chores for us and several overlapping conference calls for Handsome, making the very most of this beautiful day we have been gifted, the three of us filled our bellies with homemade crepes. Jess is especially good at this classic Martha Stewart recipe, and she spoiled us today. Look at this fresh eggy crepe smeared with Nutella and sandwiched with sliced strawberries!
I also roasted some chicken early this morning to be ready for a big homemade pot pie meal tonight. The pie crusts were mixed and rolled out too, to chill in the fridge. Each of us will soon have a specially crafted pot pie with our own custom fillings, for out last family dinner together for a little while.
This afternoon, our readiness and a gap in the rain coincided, so Jess and I ventured out to the lake to run together while Grandpa BW entertained the boys. This was a first for us, and I loved it! Please enjoy our matching Brooks shoes:
My early morning meditations and devotionals lately seem to return again and again to themes of freedom, truth, and purpose.
I welcome the growing sense of freedom we feel, from all kinds of oppression as well as from external systems. I definitely cultivate better discipline when left to my own systems. And scripture after scripture seems to be reminding me that my personal liberty has been redeemd in a powerful, permanent way. Who am I to surrender it to anything or anyone lesser than God?
And I welcome this growing urgency for telling the truth, for exposing truth, for pressing it into the spotlight. We have hidden our stories away for so long, in delicacy and carefulness, with caution. Really? Sometiems it’s been just plain old fear. But our fears are tumbling one by one. And as they say, the truth sets us free.
Expansion into purpose, too, this satisfying process of stepping into and aligning better and better with our many beautiful purposes, day after day, stacking up our efforts, weekly building a house made of Love. When we feel so much synchronicity, our energy redoubles and our motoivation is through the roof. When we feel that spark of yeah we are on the right path, anything feels possible. Time feel irrelevant. In fact, most resources do. They are details.
Our three chicken-vegetable pot pies are now about done! The house smells golden and cozy. Our sinuses are filled with chlorine water. The dogs are exhausted, ready for a good meal and some cuddles. We are so thankful, so happy to have this evening to relax with Jess before she goes home tomorrow.
Happy Tuesday, friends.