Author: Rachel Fenton

2022 in the making

/ Rachel Fenton / 4 Comments

The end of the year is one of my favorite times. I love looking back through the past twelve months and seeing how we’ve grown and changed. I’ve had a habit of turning on Regina Spektor’s New Year and reminiscing through the months that have passed while planning and praying for the months to come.

It’s a bit different for 2022. So much has happened. I wasn’t quite sure how to write about it all. We already have the monthly chronicles of Michael as he grew. Much of my life is summed up by his milestones at the moment, as I stay at home to tend to him.

I was looking back through my Ravelry projects for 2022 and discovered I had finished more than I realized. It’s amazing how different projects brought me straight back to the time I was knitting them. It’s as though I was weaving time and memories along with the yarn and thread.

So to reflect on the past year, I’ve decided to chronicle my different creations and describe what was going on in our lives as I worked on each of them.

January began with me finishing my first pair of socks, for myself. It was my first finished project after Michael’s birth, and much of it was knitted as I nursed him or held him sleeping against my chest. When I had Michael, I was certain my knitting days were behind me. I thought that sleepless nights and motherly duties would keep me from creating things, but I was mistaken. Motherhood has only enhanced my creativity and my joy in making. My time is limited, but my abilities have expanded.

In March, I completed a cowl and began a more complex project — a shawl — which I finished in April. In full honesty, much of this project is a blur. It was during these months that I realized I had postpartum depression, and that I needed help from my family, friends, and a little blue pill to get out of the fog and the darkness. I remember numbly moving through the motions of knitting the same way I was numbly moving through the motions of life. Watching a shawl grow from my needles was a physical reminder that the inertia I felt would not last forever. Beauty and goodness were still around me, even if I couldn’t see or feel them. Now when I wear it, I’m reminded of those who love me, and those who were there for me in some of my darkest times.

In April I also began and finished my first garment: a blouse. It was a quick project but was my first time pushing out of my comfort zone. After completing this blouse, I realized I could attempt more challenging patterns — even with my sleep deprivation and the chaos of our living situation, this was a place I had agency. As I began to understand and settle into my new role as a mother, I was discovering new skills I didn’t know I had.

In May, I shifted some of my making focus towards sewing instead, as I needed new clothes to fit my changing body. As someone who has struggled with body image throughout my life, I wasn’t sure how I was going to navigate the changes that came with pregnancy and postpartum. Instead of agonizing over clothing sizes or trying to fit into my pre-pregnancy outfits, I decided to make my own clothing to fit my body where it was at that time. I made a blouse and a skirt, and still wear them both often.

I was putting the finishing touches on my skirt when we got the news that my uncle Leonard had passed away. I remember sitting outside with my seam ripper and my skirt on my lap, undoing a seam and feeling like a part of my heart had been hollowed out. My Uncle Leo was like a grandfather to me. He and my Aunt Nita had been there at all my life events, from piano recitals to my wedding. I’m grateful for the many fond memories we have, like sitting at Starbucks together at Christmas time with ridiculous amounts of whipped cream on our drinks while my mom and Aunt Nita did the Christmas shopping. He would entertain me and my siblings with stories of his mother, or his childhood, or his poodle Fluffer-Loo. He was always telling stories and making us laugh. He had the most contagious laugh.

At the end of May I knit my first color work project: a hat for my mother with mosaic knitting. I have fond memories of this project: often I would sit out under the pomegranate trees while Michael napped or stared up at the sunlight through the leaves, and I would knit beside him as we both soaked up the sunlight and delighted in the smell of the orange blossoms.

In June I began my next pair of socks for my husband, and I’ve already dedicated an entire blog post to the revelations I had while making them. Socks still aren’t my favorite to knit, but I’ve grown a new appreciation for them. Humble work is still good and beautiful work.

In July, I made Michael some socks from the leftover yarn — father and son have matching pairs.

The beginning of August brought much of my making to a standstill when we were all shaken by my uncle David’s unexpected death at age 49 due to a ruptured pancreas. He was my godfather, and I remember him often in my prayers. He had a great sense of humor, and was an earnest man who loved me dearly. When I look back on the month, I remember blistering heat and scorching grief, numbly going through the motions of preparing our second funeral of the year. Midway through the month I cast on some new projects for solace and an outlet.

The end of August and beginning of September I made a few Christmas presents: a vest for Michael and a pair of gloves for my sister. Seeing them wear them on Christmas Day has enforced my love of handmade gifts.

In September, we lost another family member: our beautiful niece Mabel, stillborn. Neither Jake nor I were able to attend the memorial because of family illness, but we ask our niece in heaven to pray for us daily. I still have the bonnet I knit her, wrapped in tissue paper, in a drawer.

When I make gifts for people, I pray for the recipient throughout the making process. Each stitch is a physical symbol of the prayers running through my mind and my fingers. I take comfort in knowing one day I will meet the little girl I prayed for, and who prays for us.

In October, we finally got to call our little cottage home. The moving chaos was punctuated by my maternal grandmother being hospitalized. We had some very scary days where we weren’t sure what would happen. She is still on her journey back to health.

I finished two projects sitting in my chair by the window, like I had imagined from the beginning of this whole moving process. One was a blue jacket for Michael, the other a pair of mittens for one of my nieces.

November brought with it blustery days and dropping temperatures, absolutely perfect for knitting as we settled into our new home with its new routine. I finished my first ever sweater for myself, a bread blanket for my sister in law, and a Thanksgiving sweater for Michael.

My paternal grandmother was hospitalized for influenza before Thanksgiving, and my dad flew out to spend time with them when she was home in December. I poured all my knitting energy into gifts, specifically Jacob’s sweater. I finished on Christmas Eve with a few hours to spare.

Even with all of our family’s grief and health scares, as winter gently tucked the gardens to sleep I feel as though we too entered into a sort of hibernation. Things were quieter as we stayed home and healed from the events of the year. The holidays brought their usual chaos, but it was delightful chaos: friends and family came to visit, and Michael enjoyed all the Christmas lights and presents.

I have a few items on my needles that I’m working on as 2022 draws to a close. A mosaic colorwork cowl I’ve been dreaming of knitting since I saw the pattern on Ravelry, and a few gift knits too.

2022 taught me how to create beautiful things despite the tempests of life. It taught me how to grow with grief grafted on to me, and to embrace suffering as growth while also keeping my gaze fixed on eternity. It also brought with it indescribable joy: motherhood and homesteading and time with family.

Happy New Year to all — may 2023 be a year of light and laughter, and may we respond with grace and holiness to whatever it brings us.

preparations and traditions

/ Rachel Fenton / 1 Comment

It’s been a busy December: much of my time has been taken up with Christmas preparations, and still there are traditions that we didn’t make time for this year. Gingerbread baking (and many other classic holiday treats) will have to wait for next year.

But we still watched our favorite nostalgic Christmas films such as White Christmas and A Charlie Brown Christmas. There was something magical about watching Michael see them for the first time. Even though he won’t remember them, his wonder and innocence made watching them as a family even more special.

We also made room for some new traditions. One of my oldest and dearest friends flew out to join us for Christmas, and we all walked along one of the festive streets in town to look at their Christmas lights. There were some incredibly beautiful decorations (the Grinch was my personal favorite).

It was a beautiful, simple evening: we all were bundled up in knitwear and jackets, and we reminisced about our favorite Christmas movies as we walked.

We were touched by the neighborly cheer and friendliness from all the people walking with us on the brilliantly lit sidewalks. Kids laughed and squealed with excitement, grandparents walked arm in arm, and we sang Christmas carols as we went. We even snuck in a little harmony when we could.

PG&E finally installed the new power pole earlier this week, meaning we can now have air conditioning installed for the summer. We’re grateful they allowed temporary power to our house so we could move in in October, and we’re glad the final large step for our home is complete.

We were without power the entire day while they worked, and the sun was hidden behind thick grey clouds. I lit the Advent wreath and it glowed brightly on our table, the only source of light and warmth in our home. It seemed fitting.

Michael enjoyed watching the men working, and all the trucks with their flashing lights. I think Jake and dad enjoyed it too. It was quite an ordeal: seven trucks, and half the street was shut down to traffic.

We have a gas stove, so for dinner I made vegetable barley soup by candlelight. Our little cottage was incredibly cozy. I must admit, I was almost a little disappointed when the power came back on halfway through our meal. We were all grateful for the ability to turn the heat on however, since the house temperature had dropped to 60 degrees.

We are preparing for a quiet Christmas: it’s a bit different this year, as we think of those whose places at our table will be empty. As we all navigate grief and exhaustion for a medley of different reasons as a family, I’m grateful for these Christmas traditions. They’re a balm to our souls: they gave us bright memories that we can all talk about and remember, and they remain beautiful and comforting despite how many things have changed throughout the years. And we can experience their joy renewed through the eyes of Michael as he gets to celebrate his first Christmas.

This year seems to have been heavy for many of us: many of my closest and dearest friends and family members have experienced profound loss and grief and pain. I know the same goes for many others. If you have had a difficult year, I pray that you also may find peace and joy in these simple traditions like Christmas lights and carols.

eleven months

/ Rachel Fenton / 3 Comments

Michael turned eleven months last week. It seems as though he’s grown in leaps and bounds over the past month. He’s incredibly talkative and vivacious, earnestly saying “yeah” or shaking his head, waving and saying “bye-bye” to Jake as he goes out to work, and trying his hardest to mimic whatever words we might be saying.

He’s very excited over the Christmas trees and shining lights. It’s been quite a task to keep him (and our cat Chai) from knocking over our little blue spruce. We plan to plant his first Christmas tree outside his window, so it can grow with him.

Michael is close to walking: he often takes a series of short steps to get to something (or someone) he wants. He still thinks crawling is more practical for getting from point A to point B, however.

Music remains Michael’s favorite thing: he now bobs up and down whenever he particularly loves a song, and nods his head in time to the beat (usually). He loves playing the Irish tin whistle with me and has learned how to blow into it. He also loves playing the piano beside me, and watching Uncle Jon play the organ and piano. Every time he hears Jake sing in church, he turns to watch and listen. Sometimes he even sings along.

He still fights naps and bedtime with an intense passion, afraid he’ll miss out on something exciting. I remind myself often that this willpower is a strength of his, and will be quite a force to be reckoned with when properly directed.

(But yes, I’m still tired and look forward to sleeping through the night again at some point).

On very short car trips he often chatters to me from his seat while I drive, and sings along to whatever we’re listening to. However, he hates being in his car seat with the same passion as nap time. When we arrive at our destination he’s usually elated to be out and about, but the journey there often puts all of us through purgatory.

He wasn’t quite sure about Saint Nicholas when he came to visit our church, but he still posed for a picture. Michael isn’t shy, but he’s quiet and will observe people he doesn’t know from the corner of his eye as he plays. He’s got quite the doubtful stare — I swear, he copied all his expressions from his father.

He’s so joyful and fiery and funny and gentle: I love watching his personality unfold each passing month. I love you, sweet boy. Happy eleven months.

knits & bits

/ Rachel Fenton / 2 Comments

It’s been a while since I’ve had a post dedicated to my knitting progress. I’ve been spending most evenings knitting in my chair by the window, often with a glass of wine or a cup of tea, and a TV show or podcast playing in the background. Jake bought me a neck-light for Christmas and gave it to me early so I could knit darker yarn without my eyes straining.

Yes, I have completely embraced being a twenty-something grandma.

My main project is a sweater for Jake (his birthday and Christmas present). The pattern is the Gib II Sweater (For Him) by Andrea Mowry. It’s not going to be a surprise because I want it to fit him perfectly, so he’s tried it on at every step. It’s the most challenging project I’ve made so far: the cabled raglans and textured stitch pattern require concentration.

I’ve finished the yoke, and I’m a few inches into the body, so about half way through. Ish.

The yarn I’m using is Brooklyn Tweed’s Imbue. I’m absolutely obsessed. It’s soft and light and springy and warm and so much fun to knit. I’m determined to someday make myself a matching sweater in the same yarn, different color. The colors are deep and vibrant, too — and multilayered.

I’ve been knitting on this sweater almost exclusively, hoping to finish it in time for Christmas. I’m not sure I’ll complete it by the deadline but I’m still proud of my progress.

However, I’ve never been able to stick to just one knitting project at a time. I always have a “car project” that I can pull out whenever I’m sitting in the passenger seat or waiting somewhere. Recently, I got to sit at a coffee shop and read and knit while I waited for my haircut appointment. If it’s a simple project, I’ve gotten to the point where I can read and knit at the same time, and it’s quite fun.

I’m also dreaming and preparing for my next project. I wear cowls and shawls a lot, and I also wanted to expand my knitting skills, so the Shift Cowl by Andrea Mowry was a perfect choice. (can you tell I have a favorite knitwear designer?)

Not only is it the perfect project to learn mosaic knitting, it’s absolutely gorgeous. Plus, it gave me an excuse to splurge on some yarn I’ve been eyeing for quite some time. Spincycle Yarn is magical: each skein is a work of art.

I chose their moody Nocturne yarn in the color ways Dream On, Night Watch, and Night Moves. The colors are subtle and dark but still vibrant. I’m so excited to add this cowl to my me-made wardrobe.

Speaking of me-made wardrobe items, the weather has finally been cold enough to wear knits consistently. When we went out to dinner, my best friend snapped this picture of me wearing my newly finished sweater.

The other item I wear constantly is my Adrift Shawl. It also has a nice textured stitch pattern (moss stitch and garter stitch) and it’s also made with dark and moody colors. I love the way it enhances my wardrobe.

In other making news, I recently purchased this zine on making braided rag rugs from TheFarWoods. I already own their book on mending and repurposing fabric and clothing, and their zine helped me learn different ways to join my scraps of fabric together. I’m glad to have a better use for ripped or stained clothing, instead of throwing them away.

I’m always amazed at how grounding and relaxing it is to create things with your hands. Whenever I’m overwhelmed, sitting with a few rows of knitting helps me become present in my body and focus on the sensations and motions in front of me. In the midst of the season’s busyness, if you have a chance, I recommend taking a few moments to settle yourself and make something with your hands.

setting the table

/ Rachel Fenton / 5 Comments

I have a confession to make:

…I used to be an Advent stickler.

That meant no Christmas music, no Christmas tree, no decorations until well into December. The only hints of Christmas were the Advent wreath upon the table and all eight verses of O Come O Come Emmanuel playing on repeat.

I used to shake my head at the department stores with their Christmas decorations going up before our Halloween candy was gone. Thanksgiving hadn’t even arrived yet: it was much too early to even think about Christmas

Recently, though, my stance on Advent has changed. Before I explain, I want to note I’m that not scoffing at those who are self-proclaimed Advent sticklers — there is a beauty in simplicity, and in the ascetic response to the consumerism that often inundates the secular celebration of Christmas. And often it does feel like the world skips straight to the celebration without preparing for the feast.

Yet the Orthodox Nativity Fast has us preparing for the birth of Christ even earlier than many department stores. Starting on November 15th (in the New Calendar), we begin to prepare our minds and bodies and souls for the Nativity of Christ.

At first, it was difficult for me to think about Christmas “so early” (even though forty days prior doesn’t seem too early for Pascha/Easter). The Incarnation of our Lord is a major feast: and major feasts take major preparation.

It reminds me of all of the thought and hard work that goes into throwing a party. There’s cooking and decorating and planning and cleaning and organizing — so much to do! Preparing well takes time. As much as all of us love to procrastinate, there are some things we can’t put off until the last minute. When you look at the ornate feasts thrown in movies or paintings, you see the time and care that went into every element of the table setting. The sparkling dishes, the carefully folded napkins, the decorations, the multiple-course banquet: it takes time and community and intentionality to prepare well for a feast.

I would argue preparing well also requires joy. We plan our parties with excitement and anticipation (even the introverted among us). What good is a party if all the arrangements were made grudgingly or half-heartedly?

When we let the seasons of the Church permeate our everyday life, the rhythms of fast and feast, of preparation and celebration, begin to shape and form us.

One of the glorious things about letting the seasons of the Church permeate our everyday life is the sense of “already and not yet”. In a very real way, we live at a point in time after the Incarnation of Christ. Yet in a very real way, we are also preparing for the Incarnation to occur. The season of Advent not only reminds us to prepare for Christ’s first coming, but also His second.

I’ve come to cherish these forty days before Christmas. Now I start preparing as soon as the Nativity Fast begins. I add decorations and reminders in increments throughout the weeks: placing our Nativity icon in the forefront of our prayer corner. Changing our tablecloth to the festive one. Baking gingerbread. Helping my parents and grandparents decorate their houses. Lighting our Western Advent wreath as soon as December begins. Getting our Christmas tree. Revisiting On the Incarnation by St Athanasius. Listening to Hansel’s Messiah.

(I do wait to play Christmas music til after Thanksgiving. I’m not a complete monster.)

I see each of these things as a way to “set the table” to prepare for the feast. The table is set, but we are still waiting for the arrival of our guests. The beauty of the music and decorations remind me to take joy in the preparation. The discipline of the Nativity Fast helps me to intentionally prepare the way, and make ourselves ready for the King of Kings.

Michael’s shoes set out for St Nicholas Day

Whether you decorate before Thanksgiving, or wait til December 24th, I hope your Advent season is one of hopeful, peaceful, joyful preparation.

victory o’er the grave

/ Rachel Fenton / 2 Comments

The Saturday after Thanksgiving, we visited the graves of our family members and left flowers on the two new ones.

It was a crisp autumn day, and the trees in the cemetery were beautiful. Their leaves made me think of the glory of the cherubim: bright and burning and spread across the heavens.

My uncle David’s headstone still hasn’t arrived, but we found the plot where he rests and placed a lily there.

We stood together as a family, and cleaned off the headstone, and we read part of the Akathist to Christ for a Loved One Who Has Fallen Asleep. It’s one of my favorites, and I’ve prayed it many times this year. Jake and I also sang Memory Eternal, and the words of the Akathist seemed to rest with me as we sang.

But love is strong, delivering from eternal darkness and saving all, for whom with boldness it raises a song to Thee: Alleluia!

Death is ugly. Our society hides it out of sight and out of mind. It isn’t a topic of polite conversation. We’re inundated with marketing and advertisements that promise eternal youth, while the elderly and the ill are hidden in sterile buildings for others to take care of. The practice of visiting the graves of family members seems to have fallen out of style. Often we pretend death doesn’t exist, until we can’t any longer.

The Orthodox understanding both of death and our relationship to the departed is a great comfort to me. Death exists, and we prepare and pray for a holy end to our lives — but we do not fear death, knowing Christ has conquered the grave. We also pray for those who have departed this life: only God knows the state of their soul and their salvation, and so we pray for His mercy.

We also ask the saints to pray for us and our loved ones. Fr. John Breck writes in greater detail in this article, if you are interested in exploring the Biblical and traditional foundations of the communion of saints.

Prayer transcends both time and space. As the work of the Holy Spirit within us, prayer unites us in a transcendent, eternal communion with the Holy Trinity and with all the faithful who have preceded us through death and into life beyond. We can and we must pray for them, for their salvation and for our own. We pray for them and request their intercession for the same reason the Church has always offered that prayer: because even now we are united with them in the eternal bond we know as “the communion of saints.”

Fr. John Breck

These reminders of hope in the face of death are especially poignant as we continue in the Nativity fast in the East (and enter into the Advent season in the West). This entire liturgical season of the Church is rooted in hope.

The Nativity hymns of the East are full of the imagery of a barren wasteland springing into life. The words below are selected from the Advent Paraklesis:

The desert flowered like a lily at Thy coming, O Lord…

…For through Thy birth Thou dost shape all things afresh, making them new once more and leading them back again to their first beauty.

Make ready, O Bethlehem, for Eden hath been opened for all. Prepare, O Ephratha, for the Tree of Life hath blossomed forth in the cave from the Virgin.

The Advent hymns from the West also highlight the theme of hope: of a barren wasteland now filled with new life, and of light dispelling darkness. The ancient hymn O Come O Come Emmanuel has several verses that speak to this hope:

O come, O Branch of Jesse’s stem,
unto your own and rescue them!
From depths of hell your people save,
and give them victory o’er the grave.

O come, O Bright and Morning Star,
and bring us comfort from afar!
Dispel the shadows of the night
and turn our darkness into light.

And of course, the refrain is not one of sorrow, but of joy: Rejoice! Immanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.

I was struck by the beauty of the cemetery as we walked through it to the graves of our family members. Everywhere we walked, trees and flowers embraced the graves around them. It was a beautifully strong image of new life overcoming death.

Hope is essential to the Christian life. It is because of this liturgical season, preparing for the Incarnation of our Lord, that we can have hope. We can see the trees and the flowers blossoming over the graves of our loved ones and pray Lord have mercy, with hope. We can ask the communion of saints to pray for us, with hope. We can face our own deaths with hope. And in the end, we can taunt death and the grave, saying with the psalmist and St John Chrysostom: O death, where is your sting? O Hades, where is your victory? Christ is risen and you are abolished.

thanksgiving

/ Rachel Fenton / 4 Comments

It’s been a wonderful Thanksgiving week. My best friend came for the weekend before, and having her here was a balm for my soul.

She held my child so I could do things around the house, made me one of the best sandwiches I’ve had in a while, and cleaned and organized my house for me whenever I put Michael down for a nap.

The evenings were filled with wine and games and deep conversations and ridiculous jokes. I laughed and I cried, and felt more alive than I had in a while. I am so grateful for her friendship.

My siblings flew home for Thanksgiving on Saturday too, and I was able to host my entire family at my house for the first time.

I made a purple sweet potato soup that turned out more vibrant and beautiful than I anticipated. I had made it with regular sweet potatoes before, but never purple ones: now I have a new favorite dish.

Guests began arriving Wednesday, and we had a delightful meal together (a pre-Thanksgiving Thanksgiving) and a blind scotch tasting (which made the evening games a lot more entertaining).

Thanksgiving at our house is always a huge and communal affair. I think we had a total of twenty-four people this year.

This year, I made the pumpkin pies and my spiced red wine cranberry sauce, and Jake made the dinner rolls.

We also have a yearly tradition of taking photos every Thanksgiving. It’s a great way to get an updated family photo for the Christmas cards! We have a few nice ones that I’m saving for our Christmas card, but I love these more candid ones of us.

I finished Michael’s Thanksgiving sweater just in time: I frantically knit the last sleeve and wove in my ends while Michael took his morning nap, and did a quick steam block to smooth the stitches.

It was my first ever colorwork project, and I’m quite proud over how it turned out. There are a few tension mistakes but otherwise I count it a success. It fits him perfectly.

Michael got to try his first bites of Thanksgiving dinner: I think his favorite was the whipped cream.

Thanksgiving is often a complicated holiday: not only because of its origins in things I disagree with (colonization and Puritanism) but also because our culture’s emphasis on family can leave some out in the cold. Often the “nuclear family” is put on a pedestal as the highest good.

Family is wonderful and beautiful and important. It is something to be preserved and cherished. But we should not limit our understanding of homes to a nuclear family. Thanksgiving is a time to remember and include those who might have a complicated relationship with their families, or too much distance between them and their families, or have no families. For these people, we are called to be their family.

One of the things I love most about Thanksgiving is how it resurrects the virtues of gratitude and hospitality in our society. The ancient understanding of hospitality has stuck with me ever since I read Greek mythology in elementary school. For them, hospitality is a virtue because you never know when you could be entertaining gods in disguise.

As Christians, our homes and tables should always be open to all, because we know that each and every person is an icon of Christ. We don’t have to wonder if we’re entertaining gods in disguise: we know that by serving each other, we serve Christ. Every meal can be a Thanksgiving meal: a chance to open our tables to our fellow man and our hearts to the virtues of gratitude and hospitality.

So may there always be room for one more person at our tables, and may we take these virtues of gratitude and hospitality forward with us beyond Thanksgiving Day.

ten months

/ Rachel Fenton / 2 Comments

And just like that, Michael is ten months old. Over the past month, it seems as though he’s grown in leaps and bounds.

This week he said his first intentional word: “bye bye”, complete with adorable little wave. He’s done it several times since, but we haven’t been able to catch it on camera.

He also clapped his hands for the first time, and is very shy about repeating the action (though I’ve seen him clapping to himself a few times while playing). He occasions stands by himself without any support, but he seems content to crawl for the time being.

Opening his Namesday gift from his godmother

He is hardly ever still: he is intensely curious and wants to figure everything out. Pulling books from the bookshelves is one of his favorite past times, as is chewing on them.

He loves climbing things and has figured out how to scale our stairs, couch, chairs, and even how to pull up on the oven. He hasn’t quite figured out how to get down without going bonk, so my days are quite busy and a little frazzled.

He loves chicken and pasta and bananas, and anything else he can thoughtfully squish between his fingers.

Sleep is still his nemesis. I look forward to the day he realizes sleep is his friend.

Fresh nap bedhead

One of his favorite things to do is throw the ball for the dogs with grandpa and sit outside by the fire pit. Grandpa is Michael’s best friend, and I love their special relationship.

The joys of motherhood greatly outshine the numerous difficulties. I love watching as Michael begins to interact with the world more and more.

Happy ten months, my son. We love you.

sweater weather

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After almost three months of knitting, I finally finished my first full-size sweater! The pattern is the Nurtured Sweater by Andrea Mowry, and my yarn is 100% wool in Cascade 220’s “sparrow” color.

I’ve made baby sweaters and jackets but was a bit intimidated by full-sized garments. Baby clothes are forgiving: you just want to knit a slightly larger size so if your gauge is off, they’ll grow into them. With adult clothes, there are a lot of variables, which means a lot of things can go wrong. Plus, this sweater had an interesting slip-stitch pattern which added another layer of difficulty.

Even though I ran into a handful of problems and there are a few small mistakes, I’m incredibly proud of this sweater. I love the way it fits, I love how warm it is, I love the color, and I love the mossy texture of the stitches. I like to name my knitting projects and I’ve named this one my “secret garden sweater” because both the color and texture remind me of a garden just coming to life.

I’m now working on a colorwork sweater for Michael (my first colorwork project!) and swatching for Jake’s Christmas/birthday sweater.

Jake and I celebrated his birthday with a date at our favorite local restaurant. We love this place so much: they had a birthday card waiting for us, and gave us a celebratory spumoni.

We are working through the lingering traces of our colds, so we’ve been resting and only doing small projects around the house. We still aren’t fully moved in — the master bedroom and both bathrooms need a lot of work — but rest is taking priority right now.

The weather has been delightfully chilly (just in time for my finished sweater!) and we’ve had some glorious sunsets. We’ve had some beautiful evenings out by the fire pit with my parents.

As I make dinner and Michael plays (or hangs on my leg, wanting to help), I’ve been turning on some quiet folk music or a podcast as I work and the sun begins to set.

It’s almost as if the sun is trying to make up for the time change and the frosty mornings. Watching the golden evening light play around our kitchen and living room has made me fall in love with our little cottage even more.

celebrations

/ Rachel Fenton / 4 Comments

Last Wednesday Michael got a miserable cold that quickly spread to every member of the family (including my mom and dad). We’ve been hunkering down with a sleep-deprived, stuffy-nosed baby and slowly recovering.

Even though this illness made us cancel a trip we’d been looking forward to and has kept me from updating my blog as often as I would like, there are still many things to celebrate over the course of this week.

I had photos and an article published in the November issue of HerLife magazine! You can read it here, and I’ve included a screenshot of their beautiful spread.

They did such an incredible job, and I’m so thrilled that I have the opportunity to contribute.

Autumn on our little homestead comes with its own set of tasks. We clear away dead brush and prepare the trees for winter, and catch up on whatever other tasks didn’t get completed during the summer. It feels like the land is letting out a deep, contented sigh and getting ready to rest.

Before the illness hit us too hard, my parents were able to trim back one of our large mulberry trees. Michael enjoyed watching (even though he was snuffly). It feels so good to check these tasks off our lists and slowly start to prepare for the sleepy chill of winter.

It was Michael’s name day in the Eastern calendar on November 8th, but all of us were still recovering from this cold, so unfortunately we weren’t able to celebrate the way I wish we could have. His wonderful godmother sent him a text and prayed for us.

He always gravitates towards our prayer corner. I often have to stop him from ripping the prayer books from their stacks, but he loves it when I take down the icon of St Michael for him. He’s been keeping me accountable with doing morning prayers.

Over all the Nine Ranks (of angels), the Lord appointed the Holy Archangel Michael (his name in Hebrew means “who is like unto God”), the faithful servitor of God, as Chief Commander. He cast down from Heaven the arrogantly proud Lucifer and the other fallen spirits when they rebelled against God. Michael summoned the ranks of angels and cried out, “Let us attend! Let us stand aright before our Creator and do not consider doing what is displeasing unto God!”

Synaxis of the Archangel Michael and the Other Bodiless Powers from oca.org

I chose Michael’s name quite intentionally (as I discussed in my Michaelmas post) and I continue to be glad I chose such a strong name for my strong son. May St. Michael’s faithfulness and strength be an inspiration to all of us.

We also celebrated my dear husband’s birthday this week. Later we’ll have a date at our favorite restaurant to celebrate just the two of us, but I loved making him special meals on the actual day.

His birthday cake request is always German Chocolate Cake, which is so much fun to bake, and makes the whole house smell heavenly.

I am not the best baker — I prefer cooking, where I don’t have to be quite as precise and have more room for creative modifications — but I think these turned out pretty well.

Watching Jake become a dad has been a highlight of this year. He is such an attentive and kind father, and Michael absolutely adores him.

Jake has embraced fatherhood with all its joys and sacrifices. Despite his demanding job, he often takes time throughout the day to come in and give Michael a quick snuggle (and give me a short break). When Michael wakes at 5:30 or 6:00 am, Jake takes him to walk around the property or play in the living room so I can get another hour of sleep.

Being his wife is the greatest blessing I’ve ever been given. He’s supported me through some of my hardest times, and laughed with me during some of my best times. He makes me a happier, holier person.

May God grant you many years, my beloved.