We’ve had a beautiful end to October and a cozy start to November.

I’ve been spending a lot of time organizing our cottage and planning small improvement projects. Jake and I have a theory that since I didn’t have a chance to “nest” when I was pregnant with Michael, my nesting instinct is in hyperdrive with this pregnancy. So far I’ve rearranged Michael’s room and closet, cleared out our closet and organized our bedroom and bathroom, organized our storage shed, and collected way too many bags and boxes for donation.

Jake has been an absolute saint as I move through the house like a whirlwind. He’s built and hung shelves without complaint, and most recently he finished a project I’ve dreamed of for months: a countertop for our laundry room.

He spent a few days planning it out from an picture/video I saw on Instagram, assembling the pieces, and putting it together. I helped by picking up supplies and staining the wood and reminding him every few minutes just how much I loved and appreciated him.

I’m so thrilled with how it turned out. I now have a place to fold clothes besides our living room couch, and a retractable laundry line for hang-drying! (The golden “bell” in the after photo). I also splurged on some peel-and-stick wallpaper for the cabinet doors to add a fun pop of color. I’ll update with more photos when it arrives.

Michael came down with a nasty cold that lasted a full week, so we didn’t do any of our yearly Halloween traditions. Instead, we shifted our festivities to Friday. He dressed up as Max from Where the Wild Things Are and we “trick or treated” at Gigi and Papaw’s house, where he was very excited to ring the doorbell (about twenty times). We then snuggled down with my parents to watch It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown and eat pumpkin cake.

In making news, I had a sudden flash of inspiration to make an autumnal patchwork quilt from a few bundles of fat quarters I had been saving. I have only made one quilt prior when I was in a sewing class in elementary school so it was a fun challenge to cut and piece the quilt. It’s nowhere near perfect, but it was a treat to make and I think Michael will love having it on his bed. He enjoys pointing to the squares and calling out their colors.

Now I’m in the process of hand-quilting it. I’m using a simple running stitch along the edges of the patches with a contrasting sashiko thread. Michael loves helping out — he’s getting quite good at pulling the needle through the cloth and batting.

I’m still working on a few knitting projects — I have a few I must finish before Christmas. I also have a trip to the post office that’s long overdue: when I finally mail off some of the baby gifts I’ve finished, I’ll post pictures of them too.

Jake’s birthday is coming up, and so is Michael’s name day. Our church sang Many Years to them this past Sunday, and Michael insisted on going up with Grandpa to kiss the cross and hold his icon of St Michael.

Michael is loving the cooler weather and my renewed energy in this second trimester. We’ve been outside more and more, and he helped Grandma and Grandpa prepare their garden for winter. He also found a blue belly lizard with Grandpa, and loved seeing its vibrant colors .

He’s such a joy, and I love him so much. We’ve been having fun coloring and baking together, and snuggling and watching Little Bear (his current favorite show). He has a tendency to speak in the third person (Michael play outside! Michael eat dinner!) which is absolutely adorable.

He still loves vehicles, and trucks above all. Unfortunately, for some reason, he struggles with saying the “tr” in “truck”. Usually, he substitutes “f” instead. This makes for awkward and hilarious situations in public whenever he excitedly and loudly points out big trucks.

November is one of my favorite months: I’m relishing autumn with the anticipation of Christmas on the horizon. I love gift-giving and gift-making more than I can put into words. It gives me such joy.

I also used to participate in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) every November. The month was full of magic and storytelling as I raced to write 50,000 words with thousands of other writers around the world. While I don’t have the capacity to do that this year, I still cherish the memories it gave me and look forward to my future Novembers full of novelling.

One of the things motherhood has taught me is that dormant skills are not lost skills. I still love writing fiction. Even though I am not in a place where I can hone my fiction writing skills, that doesn’t mean I’ll never tell stories again. Who knows — maybe the skills I’m learning through motherhood and blog-writing right now are preparing me to write better fiction. Not right now is not a death sentence, and patience grows many virtues.

So as I let my fiction writing skills rest, I lean into the joys of motherhood and knitting and baking and homemaking, and the joys of sharing all of it with you.

After a few 90+ degree days, we have deliciously overcast and cool weather. A thunderstorm rolled through yesterday and the smell of petrichor infused the entire house. The slower pace of autumn is most welcome, and I’m so grateful the pregnancy illness has mostly subsided so I have energy again. I was able to write a piece on my Substack (see previous post) and travel to my cousin’s wedding.

October has been a month of making. I finally made apple butter before the apples turned mushy. I used the Spiced Cider Apple Butter recipe from the Ball canning book, and sweetened with honey instead of sugar.

Michael helped me by taste-testing many of the apples and throwing the peels into the scrap bowl. I felt a bit like one of Macbeth’s witches as I stirred the pot and waited for the butter to thicken: it burbled and popped with perfect cauldron sound effects (and got all over the kitchen). Very fitting for October.

The final product is a bit too much like thick applesauce for my liking: I like a smoother, butterier texture. Ah well. Next year! It still tastes very good, especially mixed into oatmeal or spread on sourdough.

One of my favorite comfort shows is the Great British Bake-off (especially the earlier seasons with Dame Mary Berry). I usually watch it in the evenings while I knit, and sometimes it inspires some late night baking. I had a handful of apples left and so I used a few of them to make an apple galette. I used a cheater pie crust from Trader Joe’s (because making pie crust intimidates me for some reason), but took a little extra time to make some salted caramel sauce to drizzle over the top. It was my first successful attempt at caramel — I credit my success to the recipe I used. Wonderfully clear instructions. I still have some in a jar in the fridge for eating with apples later.

We also made banana bread. Michael really enjoyed mashing the bananas, turning on the mixer and licking the spoons. We covered the kitchen in banana bread batter and both had to change shirts by the end, but it was worth it.

Now Michael drags the kitchen chairs over to the counter asking to make “nana bread” at least once a day, and whenever he sees me prepping a meal. I’m trying to have one of my motherhood mottos be messes clean. Almost everything can be cleaned or mended or replaced. Time and memories can’t.

My knitting inspiration has returned in full swing. I’ve finished almost all of the baby gifts I’ve been planning (waiting for the yarn to arrive for the last gift). In total, I’ve completed four projects and started two more. When I mail them all, I’ll post pictures and details. For now, here’s a teaser of Michael’s Christmas sweater.

It’s not going to be a Christmas gift: he’ll wear it once the temperatures drop enough to wear wool. When hand-making a sweater for a toddler, you want them to wear it as much as possible before they outgrow it!

I stopped by Hobby Lobby to purchase some recipe cards and meandered through the fabric section for fun. Michael saw this blue truck fabric and fell in love with it, so I bought a yard and whipped up some pj pants for him using this tutorial. He loves them, and I’m pretty proud that this took me about half an hour total.

They’re a bit snug on his bum because I used the only elastic I had (1.5”) instead of 1”. But otherwise they fit perfectly and have some extra length so he can grow into them.

I hope your October has been full of beauty and coziness, and that you’ve found some time to make something too!

September is drawing to a close and October is on our doorstep. It doesn’t quite feel real: time seems to be slipping by every time I blink. We still have warm days, but now they’re interspersed with wind and grey skies and hints of rain.

Michael and I visited Apple Hill with my parents. We have an old tradition of visiting Larsen’s Apple Barn for lunch and dessert and perusing their museum before picking up our bushels of apples. I remember coming here with my siblings, and seeing pictures of them here while I was away at college. It was bittersweet sending them photos of Michael playing where we used to, so they could reminisce too.

I got a half bushel of honeycrisp apples to make apple butter and hope to can them this weekend, if Michael doesn’t eat them all first. He’s decided apples are one of his new favorite foods.

I’ve been trying to do more intentional baking and kitchen work with Michael. We had so much fun making cookies the other day: he loved cracking the eggs and pouring ingredients into the mixer. His favorite part was eating the cookie dough (one of the perks of having our own eggs). Waiting for them to come out of the oven was the hardest part.

Jake has been taking Michael on outdoor explorations after dinner while I rest or clean up. They play on the play set: Michael has gotten quite skilled at climbing rope ladders and going down the slide.

He also loves smelling every flower he comes across, and helping Jake or my dad feed the dogs. He’s learned the entire routine: from telling the dogs firmly to “sit!”, filling the bowls, to telling them to “wait!” before saying “okay!”. When he’s stalling bedtime, he’ll pretend he’s feeding the dogs and say “Bandit, Cosmo, Max, come here SIT!” over and over again.

I cast on another knitting project (despite having a few languishing works in progress). After making two sweaters last year, I had hoped to knit a sweater every year to add to my me-made wardrobe. So last week I started the Weekender Sweater by Andrea Mowry (my favorite knitwear designer). It’s large and boxy and cozy, which is perfect for my growing pregnant body.

I also chose a color outside my normal palette: a moody heathered mauve. I look forward to wearing it this winter.

I did manage to finish my 3 ply spin. It made more yarn than I was expecting: I’m guessing around 500 yards. I’ll measure it and wind it into a skein and weigh it and we’ll see what the final specs are. I’m hoping to make some baby knits out of it.

Being pregnant makes my love of handmade garments a bit more complicated. It’s made me reflect on change over the past few weeks: the change in seasons, the change in my body as I nourish this baby, the change in us all as we grow and age.

I recently went down a rabbit hole of looking at my old stories and posts on Instagram. It’s a sweet trip down memory lane to see the way I used to bake and cook and take so many pictures. I loved looking back at our first tiny apartment by the sea, and my joy in teaching and mentoring high school students, and the beautiful church community that welcomed us as newlyweds. Even navigating the pandemic, while unprecedentedly difficult, also had its golden moments: candlelit living room dates, hikes, cooking experiments; bringing home our first pet.

I am different than I was those few years ago. I still take as many pictures, though I post fewer of them. I bake less, but I make more. I write less, but I still feel fulfilled in my daily labor, even if it means putting some of my childhood dreams on hold for this season of life.

Time has changed me, like water shapes stone. I feel the same, but I look back and realize I can see where I’ve grown wiser, gentler, and stronger. It’s a strange feeling. I wonder how it will change or grow as I continue to get older.

Maybe it’s indulgent: this post feels a little indulgent to me as I sit and reminisce. But this meditation on change has reminded me that cataloguing the quiet joys in life is worthwhile.

And this is why I continue to write these posts and take the pictures. Even though there is a deluge of information on the Internet, even though everything urges you to monetize and promote and be competitive: in the end, none of that matters. I write so I can look back at the beauty that I may have otherwise forgotten. I write so I can see the formation of the person I am becoming. And I write to share these golden moments and musings with whomever wants to sit beside me as I chronicle.

For me, some months are associated with colors. I’m not sure why: some months I don’t have any associated hue in my mind’s eye. But September has always been golden. The color of the air before sunset, of calendula blossoms, of flowing honey; of weathered wedding rings.

Pregnancy illness has abated a little bit, and I’m so grateful. I’ve been challenging myself to look for the gold in September as it marches on.

And there are so many golden moments. Michael has been enjoying the cooler weather (cooler = not high 90s) and plays outside every chance he gets. If water’s involved, good luck getting him to focus on anything else.

He’s grown into such a little boy this month especially. He speaks in full sentences, and has a tendency to talk about himself in the third person. “Michael’s jumping!” “Michael go outside now?” And so on.

He loves to conduct to music (just like Jake does at church). His current favorite songs are (still) Wheels on the Bus, Old MacDonald, and Tractor Tractor from Slugs & Bugs. He often sings them to himself when we’re in the car, or when he’s trying to fight sleep.

His tender heart and bright curiosity melts my heart daily. He loves kissing icons at church, and when we’re home he is often helping his babydoll kiss our icons.

Making is another golden place for me. For those of you interested in my crafting endeavors, spinning has still been my main pastime. I’m making my first 3ply yarn (three singles all twisted together to make the yarn, instead of only two). It’s soft and pastel and I really enjoy the way it’s turning out. I hope to post a picture of the final product soon.

Jake humored me (like the amazing husband he is) and got some shots of my hands while spinning. I love the simple magic of spinning by hand.

I’ve also learned how to spin on a Turkish drop spindle I purchased from Galina at Carry Cherry. It has these adorable hand-painted bee motifs on it, and it’s now one of my prize possessions.

Speaking of bees, we had a very small honey harvest earlier this month with some family friends helping us. Our new hives weren’t established enough to produce extra honey, so it was a humble harvest.

Small as it was, the process of harvesting honey is always magical. My dad uses a heated knife to uncap the honey and extra wax (which we collect for later). Once the frames are uncapped, we put them in the centrifuge and spin them until the honey collects in the bottom and we can strain it into jars.

It’s fascinating to see how honey’s appearance changes by hive and by season. Some honey is dark golden, like sunlight through murky water. We think those bees mostly harvested from star thistles and other hearty weeds and flowers. We’ve also had pale honey that tasted almost minty — we think perhaps it had eucalyptus in it.

Bees are probably my favorite of all God’s creatures. I could watch them move to and fro from their hives all day. Their lives are so beautiful and ornate, with how they communicate through dancing and flit from flower to flower with pollen clinging to their legs.

I’ve always been moved by this story told by St Paisios of Mount Athos.

Some people tell me that they are scandalized because they see many things wrong in the Church. I tell them that if you ask a fly, “Are there any flowers in this area?” it will say, “I don’t know about flowers, but over there in that heap of rubbish you can find all the filth you want.” And it will go on to list all the unclean things it has been to.

Now, if you ask a honeybee, “Have you seen any unclean things in this area?” it will reply, “Unclean things? No, I have not seen any; the place here is full of the most fragrant flowers.” And it will go on to name all the flowers of the garden or the meadow.

You see, the fly only knows where the unclean things are, while the honeybee knows where the beautiful iris or hyacinth is.

As I have come to understand, some people resemble the honeybee and some resemble the fly. Those who resemble the fly seek to find evil in every circumstance and are preoccupied with it; they see no good anywhere. But those who resemble the honeybee only see the good in everything they see.

+St. Paisios of Mt. Athos, “Good and Evil Thoughts,” Spiritual Counsels III: Spiritual Struggle

If you’re interested in learning more about St Paisios, Kh. Destinie has a lovely post about him here, with many resources.

This story is often summed up in the simple phrase, Be the Bee. I strive to be the Bee in my own life, even though it’s so easy to be weighed down by the brokenness of sin that surrounds us.

Being the Bee doesn’t mean we turn a blind eye to evil and injustice, doing nothing to rectify it. Being the Bee means asking ourselves, where does our mind dwell? Where do we nourish ourselves? Even as we deal with the refuse and waste of sin in the world, can we still see the flowers? Do we still tend to them?

This has been a challenge for me lately, with pregnancy illness and fatigue making me feel like a shell of a person. Maybe one day I’ll be holy enough to focus on the flowers even when I’m sick and grumpy and miserable. Right now, I am nowhere near that holy. But by the grace of God I’m feeling better, and it’s easier for me to focus on the flowers instead of the rubbish.

I hope your September also has golden moments, and even if you’re dealing with the refuse and brokenness of this sinful world, you’re still able to see the flowers.

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.

I’ve been a little quieter on here lately, but I’m hoping to get back to a more regular posting schedule now. I ran into an issue: I maxed out my free disc storage for my WordPress site. I guess I like posting photos too much. I had the option to delete old posts or to upgrade to a paid plan, and I chose to upgrade. It took me a while to figure out exactly how to do that. So things might look a little different now: but to me, it’s worth the investment. I truly delight in making this humble chronicle of our lives. I hope you enjoy it too.

I’ve been continue to work on being more purposeful with my time. It seems to be my project of 2023: taking ownership of the minutes, hours, and days I’ve been given, and contemplating what it means to be a good steward of them.

Another way I’ve been looking at it is cutting back on my mindless consumption. I spent so much time consuming media, when really what I enjoy is making. I felt myself turning into Tantalus: always consuming, never satisfied.

And so, I took a step back. This has meant being on an Instagram hiatus (again), given my tendency to fall down the rabbit hole and not realize it until hours have passed. I now visit my Instagram only once every few days with a strict time limit, to check messages and see what my close friends are up to. But gone are the days of falling asleep to flashing screens.

And strangely enough, it’s been a relief. I’ve felt better, more focused; more rested. More myself. It’s hard to explain, and I feel like I’ve talked a lot about my complex relationship with social media lately. So I’ll just leave it at that, and an encouragement to try fasting from screens on a regular basis.

July has been passing at a breakneck pace. After our wonderful trip to the Midwest, Bishop John visited our church to celebrate the retirement of priest, Fr Stephen. It was a beautiful time celebrating a wonderful man and his selfless ministry. My in-laws came to stay with us a few days so they could also celebrate the retirement, and Michael loved having extra time with Oma and Opa.

Summer is definitely in full swing, so our outdoor time has been limited (much to Michael’s chagrin). I am not a fan of summer: I much prefer the chilly temperatures of autumn and winter. I miss my handknits! We had a scorching week of 100-110 degree weather, and thankfully now we’re back in the more reasonable 90s. My garden is soaking up the heat and producing faster than I can keep up. I have a bunch of tomatoes, and I’m on the hunt for a good canned tomato soup recipe to try to preserve some for winter. I was able to make a simple ratatouille with nearly all homegrown ingredients (except for the onion: mine aren’t quite ready for harvesting).

There’s something so satisfying about eating food you’ve grown yourself. I’m pretty proud of this little garden of mine: it’s my first attempt, and though I’ve got much to learn and have made many mistakes, I love my imperfect unpruned tomatoes, tiny peppers, and overgrown zucchini.

Because it’s summer, I’ve been focusing more on cooking and preserving the bounty before us. My current obsession is kombucha flavored with herbs from our garden and honey from our bees. So far, I’ve made a raspberry honey mint, a lavender, and a blueberry honey mint. The raspberry is my favorite.

Speaking of our bees, they’re doing very well! Our largest hive split and swarmed, and my dad managed to catch it before it left, so now we have three robust hives. We’re hoping to have quite the honey harvest this year.

The next big project for us is to finish the north side of our front garden. We need to finish clearing the weeds, put down some landscape fabric, and lay the mulch. It’ll give Michael a nicer, less dusty place to play, and it’ll also give us a nice place to grill this summer.

I’ve been continuing to knit and spin in my spare time — usually evenings and nap times. I’ve made a few skeins of 2 ply, DK/light worsted weight yarn. I’m looking forward to giving updates on the projects I plan to knit with them! I also finished one pair of socks and started on another. I’m leaning more into spinning right now, over knitting. With all that’s going on, I relax more into the mindless rhythm of spinning, and I don’t have to count or pay as much attention.

I’ve been reading more books, especially right before bed. On our recent trip to the Midwest I brought a copy of That Hideous Strength by CS Lewis and just finished it a few days ago. It’s a copy from 1970 that I picked up at our local used bookstore, and it smells fantastic. Anyone else feel like they could stick their nose in an old paperback and inhale forever?

I’ve finished three more books since, and I’m finally catching up on my Goodreads goal of 50 books this year. I missed reading. And reading has been nurturing my love of writing. I’ve been dipping back into writing fiction of my own, and it’s been beautiful and nostalgic and difficult.

I used to write fiction daily, seriously editing my work for submission and throwing my entire being into the craft. But since becoming a mother, my fiction writing has fallen to the side: shelved, but not thrown away. Writing fiction takes many of the same resources for me as nurturing a growing soul — and doing both at once wasn’t quite feasible for me. Slowly, I’ve been jotting down ideas and stories in tiny increments of time and words. And it’s strange to revisit a part of me that’s grown so dusty, that I loved so dearly. Strange to see how much I’ve changed. Strange, but also beautiful. I’ve reread some of my old work, remembering the person I was when I wrote it. I look forward to seeing the things I create as the person I am now.

I also credit my social media hiatus for my renewed love of reading and fiction writing. There’s are so many moments I used to brush off as “the meantime”. The moments after something important, and before the next important thing. I used to fill them with mindless scrolling, and even during my hiatus, I found myself looking only towards the next thing instead of being present in the meantime.

Now, I see them as opportunities to read another chapter of my book, or knit another row, or jot down another story idea. I’ve grown to cherish the meantime, instead of tolerating it. I’ve come to learn that meantime is fruitful, not fallow.