August trudges on, with glimmers of fall peaking through the heat every now and then. Because of the recent tropical storm in Southern California we’ve gotten some nice wind and cloudy skies, and even a sprinkle or two of rain. The temperatures remain fixed in the mid to high 90s, however.

My grandpa gifted me a box of pears from a farmer friend of his, and I made maple bourbon pear butter. As it cooked down, the entire house smelled of autumn and it was delightful. Michael helped me with the weighing and peeling process, and absolutely loved it. Let’s hope he maintains his enthusiasm for canning as he grows — I would love a tomato canning assistant in the upcoming years.

I worked through 8 lbs of the box but we still have approximately 5 lbs left. If you have any pear recipes, please share!

We bought an outdoor play set with my parents, and my dad has been working on assembling it just in time for cooler weather. Michael is fascinated with it, and loves to open and shut the doors and climb the ladders. When it’s finished, I have a feeling it’ll be his favorite place.

Michael spent the night away from us for the first time with the grandparents, and Jake and I had a delightful and low-key date night at home. We ordered in from our favorite local restaurant, got frozen yogurt, and played card games and Mario Kart with cocktails. Like the old twenty-somethings we are, we were in bed by 10 pm (and slept through the night!). It was wonderful.

I’ve been pretty sick recently, so the garden has been suffering. Zucchini and tomatoes grow in abundance and I unfortunately can’t keep up. I’ve found more and more cubit-long zucchinis hiding under leaves…thankfully the chickens love them. My pepper plants pop out mini peppers here and there, but my poor cucumbers gave up the ghost in the heat. When I feel better and the weather cools, I plan on putting the garden to rest for fall/winter except for some root veggies like beets and potatoes. I’m hoping we can do some landscaping this fall/winter to make it more of a hospitable yard.

Something that’s continued to delight me is undeserved bounty. I am not a good or skilled gardener — nowhere close. Yet I still have more zucchini and peppers and tomatoes than I can handle. It’s not my skill or my willpower that brings them to life from dust and seed: just my simple trusting labor and God’s overwhelming goodness.

Making continues to be a solace to me, though it’s been slower of late. I’ve continuing to explore writing fiction again, and reading fiction to stoke the creative fires. I finished The Queen of Attolia (5 out of 5 stars) and started the next in the series. I’m always on the lookout for more fantasy or science fiction to read, so if you have any recommendations, please share!

Jake got a 3D printer (something he’s been wanting for a very long time) and has already made several cool things: fidget cubes, toys for Michael to play with, and he has several other projects in the works. He also made me a row counter for my knitting — you can see it in the photo below.

I have several knitting projects on the needles right now, but because I’ve been sick, progress on all has been rather slow. It’s hard to keep track with more complicated projects when my mind and body are weary. So in the meantime I cast on a mindless knit: a cowl with my handspun yarn. It’s a combo of the perfect autumn colors.

I also got a beautiful hand-painted Turkish spindle, and my next project is to learn to spin with it. I love spinning on my spinning wheel, but spinning on a spindle has its joys too. Plus, it’s much more portable.

This entire month, I’ve tried to find the balance between looking forward to the future while also appreciating the present. And to be honest, I’ve mostly failed. The summer sun and illness have done a number on my patience and enthusiasm. I find myself despising the glaring heat and wishing it could be mid September already.

But if wishes were fishes, we’d have a river full. So instead, I find myself staring down my own sanctification, learning to embrace the moments I’m given as they come, with whatever resources or health I have. Life continues on: a toddler to feed and entertain, pears to can, dishes to wash, laundry to fold. How I choose to react to illness or heat won’t change my surroundings, but it will change me.

So I admit, I work on my sanctification imperfectly and grudgingly. And I find solace in knitting and canning things that remind me the heat (and hopefully this illness) will indeed be over. Someday.

Well, summer continues on. August is a difficult month for us as a family, as it has two significant death anniversaries. Surrounded by the dust and parched landscape in 95-100+ degree heat, it’s easy to fall into a sort of seasonal depression. We’ve been stuck inside, waiting out the heat, trying not to wilt like the garden outside.

About a week ago, it was the one year anniversary of my uncle’s death. I am grateful that our church tradition has a place for the dead: prayers to say by the graveside, prayers for yearly memorials. There is a great comfort to it. The words of the prayers feel like old friends, embracing and supporting us when our own words fail us.

My garden is continuing to produce faster than I can keep up. I attempted canning some roasted tomato soup, but unfortunately it didn’t turn out. I wrestled with the pressure canner and lost: it fell below pressure, I had to restart the timer twice, the bands weren’t screwed on tight enough, and things overflowed. Ah well — next time! And we’ll have some not-shelf-stable soup for dinner this week.

I keep losing track of my zucchini and finding them much too late. I think the longest and largest I’ve grown so far is approximately 1.75 feet long and 5 inches in diameter. They’re much too woody for us to eat, so our chickens have been very happy with the zucchini surplus. Michael also enjoys hauling them around.

I’ve been reading more, and it’s been lovely to dive deep back into fiction after a brief time away. I forget how fiction can be a balm to the soul. It portrays truths in a deeper and more poignant way than I think non-fiction does. Tolkien says it better than I ever could in his essay On Fairy Stories. If you haven’t read it, I strongly encourage giving it a read. Here are two of my favorite quotes, to give you a taste:

Fantasy is a natural human activity. It certainly does not destroy or even insult Reason; and it does not either blunt the appetite for, nor obscure the perception of, scientific verity. On the contrary. The keener and the clearer is the reason, the better fantasy will it make.

On Fairy Stories

And probably my favorite quote of the entire essay:

The consolation of fairy-stories, the joy of the happy ending; or more correctly of the good catastrophe, the sudden joyous “turn” (for there is no true end to any fairy-tale): this joy, which is one of the things which fairy-stories can produce supremely well, is not essentially “escapist,” nor “fugitive.” In its fairy-tale — or otherworld — setting, it is a sudden and miraculous grace: never to be counted on to recur. It does not deny the existence of dyscatastrophe, of sorrow and failure: the possibility of these is necessary to the joy of deliverance; it denies (in the face of much evidence, if you will) universal final defeat and in so far is evangelium, giving a fleeting glimpse of Joy, Joy beyond the walls of the world, poignant as grief.

On Fairy Stories

Fiction in particular has been good for me this month. That fleeting glimpse of Joy beyond the walls of the world is definitely poignant as grief, and heals grief well.

I’ve recently finished Susanna Clarke’s Piranesi, which was beautiful and strange; magical and eerie. I’m still processing the mystical world building and the story’s twists and turns. I also reread Megan Whalen Turner’s The Thief: that book is such a fantastic romp, and the twist at the end always delights me. I’m currently reading the next in that series, The Queen of Attolia. If you like fantasy and political intrigue, with witty dialogue and plot twists, you’ll love these books.

I reread Sarah J Maas’s Crescent City books for fun, to prepare for the third book releasing in January. I enjoy her ability to write ensembles of fun, unique characters, though I have a bone to pick with some of her plot choices. Still, I enjoy the thrill and mystery as much as the next person, and her world building and romances are fun “fluff reads”.

I also read Roshani Chokshi’s The Last Tale of the Flower Bride, and Rebecca Yarros’ Fourth Wing. Chokshi’s prose is beautiful and moody and ethereal, but I must admit, I didn’t enjoy the story or the ending. Fourth Wing was fun and predictable, with dragons and an angsty enemies to lovers romance (one of my favorite tropes).

My making is still slow but I’ve continued to spin in the evenings. I enjoyed snapping this picture of me spinning in my handknit socks.

As for knitting, I’m determined to finish one of my many works in progress (WIPs) before I start another. I’m approximately 90% done with four different WIPs (a scarf, a hat, a cardigan, and a pair of socks), and I have to just buckle down and finish them. I hope next time I’ll have some finished objects to show off.

It’s still strange to think of where we were a year ago. Still not living in our house, unable to work on projects much due to the heat; reeling from unexpected death. It’s also strange to think of two years ago, just having moved from a life I loved, struggling with incessant morning sickness, weighed down by perinatal depression; saying goodbye to one of my dearest family friends and mentors.

But I look at the growth that’s happened over the past year and my heart lightens despite the memories of Augusts past: Michael’s continual growth, living in our own house, planting my first garden, my fiber skills improving, (learning how to spin my own yarn!) and so many other beautiful things.

This is a part of life I am still learning: the balance of grief and joy. Just like fairy stories, I do not deny the existence of dyscatastrophe, of sorrow and failure. I grieve; I remember them before God and ask that their memory be eternal. And it is good to grieve and remember. But I also am learning to look for the sudden and miraculous graces, the joys beyond the walls of this world. And that, too, is good.