We had such a wonderful Thanksgiving. It was absolutely full to the brim with loved ones, good food, good conversation, laughter, and joy.

Our festivities began on the Saturday before Thanksgiving, when my sister flew in to spend her break with us. Michael played an entire morning and afternoon with Aunt Boo while I prepared the house for guests. Unfortunately, I have no pictures of their games of chase or fort building. Sunday, dear family friends came into town.

Monday, my in-laws arrived: Michael loved spending time with Oma and Opa and Uncle James (even if it took him a little bit to get warmed up at first).

Tuesday was my grandfather’s 80th birthday, and after the busyness of the day we all wandered up to the Grand House and sang happy birthday to him in harmony.

Wednesday, more family friends arrived and my brother flew in as well. Michael loved reading books and playing organ and piano with Uncle Jon.

My dad’s Thanksgiving turkey is renowned among our family and friends for being tender and flavorful: he’s got his cooking method down to a science. Michael was thrilled to help with the brining process, and helped with both turkeys (we needed two for the crowd we expected on Thanksgiving!)

Thanksgiving morning my sister-in-law was able to fly in from Utah and join us! As always, where Fentons congregate, music follows. Our piano got more use this week than it’s seen in a while, and it was lovely to hear many renditions of Heart and Soul and different improvisations ringing through our cottage.

Cooking preparation was split between houses, and our house took care of the pumpkin and apple pies, rolls, and cranberry sauce. My mother-in-law’s apple pies are incredible, and she helped me make pie crust for my pumpkin pies. I used a new recipe this time, and it turned out excellently (if I do say so myself). Jake is the expert bread baker in this household, so he made his rolls (a family friend’s recipe). He made them the first Thanksgiving he joined our family, and now it’s an indelible tradition.

Looking at the food spread out for Thanksgiving dinner, I felt as though I had fallen into a Redwall feast. If you, too, grew up reading Brian Jacques’ Redwall series, you know he was famed for his delicious descriptions of food. We had spiced red wine cranberry sauce, bacon wrapped green beans with rosemary, two huge and fragrant turkeys, mashed potatoes with pools of golden butter, pastry wrapped baked Brie with pomegranate jam, pumpkin and custard and walnut and apple pies, homemade whipped cream — and so much more.

All in all, there were 34 people around our tables on Thanksgiving Day. And it was a glorious, beautiful sight. I have hardly any photos from the actual day, because we were so busy prepping and eating and spending time with our loved ones. We have a tradition of taking photos every Thanksgiving with my mother’s good camera: we haven’t had the chance to download them yet, so I have no photos of the entire group. Here’s a snap of the chaotic group photo taking process!

The day after Thanksgiving is possibly my favorite day of all. The majority of us are introverts (including extended family and friends). As much as we love the joy of Thanksgiving, the day after is a day to rest and rejuvenate. We sat outside by the fire pit for almost the entire day, and read or talked or sat in silence.

Cornhole games were played, archery was practiced. I spun on my Turkish spindle. It was a very good, very peaceful day.

Every single bed, couch, air mattress, and spare room on our property was full. And it was glorious. It was a moment where everything we’ve worked for on this strange little homestead of ours felt right.

Some people don’t understand what we are doing here: I’ve gotten my share of snide comments about “still living with my parents” (despite having our own home, parcel of the property, and mortgage). But whenever I begin to wonder if I’m crazy for doing this, weeks like this happen. I’m so grateful we live in community so we can pool all our resources and be a “third place”: a place for gathering and sanctuary and community; a place for prayer and rest and rejuvenation.

However, living in community isn’t idyllic, despite what blog posts and pictures may seem.

There is difficulty and pain and brokenness, and stress and short tempers and tears. The broken edges of our sin snag on the people around us, and their edges snag on us, and bit by bit, through reflection and prayers and the grace of God, we begin to sand down these broken edges and become who were are made to be. Here, our brokenness is seen most clearly and cuts the deepest, but here it also can be made whole.

But weeks like this week are exactly why we endure the crucibles parts of this undertaking; why we choose to live as four generations on five acres.

It’s weeks like this that make me so, so grateful.

I see gratitude as an act of defiance against the darkness. If you’ve been reading along with our journey on this blog, you know that we’ve had our share of grief and pain. There has been much darkness. But this week was light: joyful and defiant and shining against the brokenness of the world around us.

Glory to God.

As the nights grow longer and darker, I’ve started embracing the dimmer lights. After dinner, most of the main lighting in the house is off and replaced by table and floor lamps and candles.

We’re leaning into the coziness, slowing down as the land around us begins to settle into late fall. Yet even in the slow coziness, much has been happening.

My great uncle and aunt from Arizona visited! It was so lovely to see them again. There was a lot of laughter and amazing food (courtesy of my grandmother!) My uncle helped my grandfather spread more gravel on their driveway, and Michael was thrilled by the machinery he got to watch and climb on.

Michael is soaking up whatever time outside he can get before the sun sets. My mother got sidewalk chalk and bubbling color tablets, and the two of them had a grand time over the weekend.

Despite the slowing of the world around them, our pomegranate trees are producing like crazy. We picked as many as we could, and they’re waiting in the garage for when we have time to seed and juice them. Homemade pomegranate jelly is one of the most delicious things I’ve ever eaten: we’re running low and I hope I can get a few half pints put away before the end of the year.

As an aside, we accidentally grew a pumpkin. I tossed our old pumpkins out in the weeds last year, thinking they’d decompose and be eaten by critters. Two of them did: apparently the third decided to take root. My dad found this green beauty growing happily among the star thistles about two weeks ago.

Michael also helped me make Jake’s birthday cake. He is determined to taste every step of the baking process no matter what the contents of the bowl are: flour and baking soda, raw eggs, vanilla extract…etc. It’s been an interesting learning curve. He’s also gotten quite adept at pouring and stirring. He loves the concept of cracking eggs…not so much the actual process.

I’ve been working away with my needles in my spare moments. Tis the season of gift knitting, so I won’t be posting most of what I’ve been working on to keep them surprises for their intended recipients. However, I did make this little hat for Michael to keep his head warm on his outdoor excursions. The contrasting color is my own hand-spun yarn. I even cast on a hat for myself that will match. It’s so satisfying to knit with yarn I’ve made myself, and I love these colors so much.

I’ve also been spinning more, both on my wheel and on my Turkish spindle. I told one of my dearest friends (the one who taught me to spin last January!) that I feel like this Turkish spindle is my magic wand: it’s almost like it chose me like the wand chooses the wizard. I love how it moves, I love how lightweight it is; I love the small bee motifs on the arms. It’s been an absolute delight to use.

I found a new fiber shop that I’m obsessed with: Inglenook Fibers. My Orthodox friends may know of Holy Nativity Convent in Massachusetts: I often buy candles and icons from them. They’re connected! Mother Macrina is one of the skillful artists behind these beautiful colors, and another sister helps her with the different processes of preparing the fiber. I’ll be supporting them every chance I get.

I love these chilly days, and I especially love these slow and cozy evenings. I’ve taken to having a cup of tea and sitting and knitting or spinning until bedtime. I usually listen to a podcast or an audiobook, or read, or sit and chat with my husband. Once Michael is asleep, once the dishes are done, once the day’s clutter has been put away, I sit and delight in the things that bring me joy and fill my cup.

It’s a cozy ritual I’ve come to cherish. Even on the worst days, I find comfort in the familiar scent of lemon balm tea and the quiet cadence of my spinning wheel or knitting needles.

I recently listened to a vlog by The Last Homely House on YouTube, where she mentioned an old adage her grandmother used to say: Get out of your head, and into your hands. I find that to be my remedy for many things: anxiety, fatigue, irritation; grumpiness. Once I get out of my head and into my hands, my body relaxes and my cup begins to fill again.

So if the cold and dark are encroaching on your cozy rituals, I encourage you to join me: get out of your head and into your hands.

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.