A Wildwood Story

“It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.” -Dumbledore

Rachel

Letter 14 {Coffee Machine Fascination}

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Dear Candace,

This week my new Ninja coffee machine arrived, and then the sunshine came right after so I think the two are related. My belated Christmas gift turned out just right! After trying to decide between 287 different types of espresso and fancy automatic machines, I finally did the blessedly simple thing and purchased my first ever programmable coffee maker. It’s not like I’m cheating on my beloved French Press. It’s just that there’s room in my heart for all the coffee things.

Did you know…with a few beep-beep-boo’s of the machine (add water + grounds + pick a setting) you can wake up to hot coffee at any hour you desire? I hear this phenomenon has taken the modern world by storm! It’s not at my bedside, true, nor does it play opera music but it is fantabulous nonetheless. The first night I tried to program it for next morning’s wake-up, I wasn’t fast enough the with delay start feature and kept making fresh coffee as a result. {The accidental coffee now sits in my fridge pretending to be a cold brew.}

Now that we are done with the kids’ intense school semester classes, a family wedding, music recital, and all strains of the flu, we’re back to our “homeschool lite.” I picture endless warm days ahead of coffee, books, and art museums. Kidding! I guess at some point I should also dust, get this house in shape, and accomplish yard work (hmmm). I’m also deeply considering all the educational options for next year. It’s a season of shifting lanes, for sure.

With my trusty Ninja by my side, I shall go forth and figure stuff out! Or at least, walk into the kitchen and pour myself a cup.

Raises coffee cup,

Rachel

Letter 13

Letter 15

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Letter 13 {Yellow vs Grey}

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Dear  Candace,

Last weekend, a reunion with dear childhood friends. This weekend, my niece’s wedding and associated preparation and celebration with extended family. In-between, a horrid amount of laundry and enough high-school physical science homework to make me annoyed at Newton and all his stupid laws.

Let’s be British and talk about the weather. Rain, rain, hail, rain and wait for it…rain. You know what they say about April showers. Well if this May doesn’t put out that’s IT, I’m moving! Is that the puny vitamin D talking? No, that’s me. I do love a good thunderstorm and some nice, dark rainy days for book reading and baking and making of tea in a very hygge way but I eventually draw the line when coziness of the soul days turn to Jane Eyre style madness. {Teensy exaggeration.}

I’m sorry I can’t seem to get over this and whine to you about it. It’s my struggle. A mild one, as life struggles go. It’s very much a first-world problem and one that, as I watch the recent news, I’m grateful to have. Grateful to live through grey days in a small house with the people I love in a community that is safe and clean. Grateful all my needs are met, and so much more. Grateful that even in small ways I have opportunities to ease the true suffering of other humans made in the image of God. If struggling through grey days reminds me to be grateful, then I suppose it might be worth it.

Still dreaming of SoCal and sunshine, though.

My new, large, living room rug with the yellow gold and cream lightens up the room and makes me smile. There are flecks of grey woven through the design. The contrast gives the gold more depth, an extra richness and warmth.

Grey is one of my favorite colors, too,

Rachel

Letter 12

Letter 14

 

 

Letter 12 {Vit. D Excuses}

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Dear Candace,

It’s not far from midnight, but I’m settling in to write to you as quite an old lady. Here I am, tucked in bed, my glasses on the end of my nose, fluffy pillows at helpful angles. I left a dinner party early, while a couple of the girls were still finishing dessert. I just knew my energy levels were dropping, and with a 30 minute drive home I didn’t want to push myself. Since this is a reunion weekend with old friends, I get to see them all again!

Recently discovering that I’m quite deficient in vitamin D has given me justification for nearly everything.

“I can’t possibly do that; my vitamin D levels aren’t high enough.”

“I have to tuck myself into bed early with a hot cup of tea because my vitamin D levels said so.”

“I hope you understand I don’t have enough vitamin D to argue with you about this.”

I begin my special mega doses of vitamin D this week, just as the doctor ordered. I’m so looking forward to regaining some energy and not feeling like I must leave the party first when usually, I’d rather be one of the last. Yet here I am, tired and draggy and cyclically reading poetry like a vitamin D deficient person.

I can’t remember everything I was going to tell you because my low vitamin D took away my memory.

Oh! I’m nearly finished with taxes and that is a huge relief! It’s not my favorite thing to do. I have at least 580 things I’d rather not do ahead of taxes. It’s one of the worst, but it’s survivable.

Tomorrow is April Fool’s Day, and I won’t be playing any tricks or be taken by any (but if perchance I am it’s not my fault, it’s the vitamin D). My truth tomorrow and all of April is a happiness that spring is here to stay and the seasons fulfill their purpose…the earth is turning all greens again!

A bushel and a peck,

Rachel

Letter 11

Letter 13

Letter 11 {Awkwardness & Poetry}

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Dear Candace,

There is an odd jumble of things I experienced this week, but I feel helpless in explaining them to you. I could talk about how, when asked by intelligent homeschooling moms, I couldn’t for the life of me recall which math book Caleb was in (Algebra? Pre-Algebra?), or what shoe size Drew required. Or there was the time I blindly drank out of my host’s cup at a dinner party, even after picking out my own vessel and beverage. She was very sweet and nice about it, not seeming to mind since we have shared food off each other’s plates before, but still. Drinking out of her straw was not the classiest thing I’ve done all week.

This has not been my classy week.

I discovered a lovely poem which you probably already have memorized, since you’re classy, but is new to me. When I read it aloud to Drew before his language arts lesson one day, he just looked at me stone-faced. He did not appear to appreciate my new favorite string of verses, or my passionate recitation. He is 10 and thinks farting is hilarious. I am 34 and drinking out of other adults’ cups. Suddenly we are sounding not so dissimilar. I digress-and here are the charming lines which somehow helped soothe all the oddities of this week:

The Nymph’s Reply to the Shepherd*
If all the world and love were young,
And truth in every Shepherd’s tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move,
To live with thee, and be thy love.
Time drives the flocks from field to fold,
When Rivers rage and Rocks grow cold,
And Philomel becometh dumb,
The rest complains of cares to come.
The flowers do fade, and wanton fields,
To wayward winter reckoning yields,
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy’s spring, but sorrow’s fall.
Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of Roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies
Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten:
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.
Thy belt of straw and Ivy buds,
The Coral clasps and amber studs,
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee and be thy love.
 But could youth last, and love still breed,
Had joys no date, nor age no need,
Then these delights my mind might move
To live with thee, and be thy love.
♥
Not to be dramatic, but I think I’ll read The Nymph’s Reply to the Shepherd every day for the rest of my life,
Rachel
*This, after The Passionate Shepherd to His Love which you must also read

Letter 10 {Matcha Latte}

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Dear Candace,

After those first few hard days of DST*, I’m always grateful for the extra light in the evening. Suddenly the end of winter feels cozy (me to winter: “you’re not so bad after all”) when my days aren’t cloaked in darkness on either end.

I would not do well in Alaska.

Today I had my first matcha latte. I met a friend for brunch, since brunch fixes everything and makes you strong. Being St. Patrick’s Day, I felt like the green latte was inevitable.  I generally love matcha, but I wasn’t thrilled with that particular latte. I felt like I was cheating on coffee. All I could think about as I sipped the foamy green drink was how nice a hot breve flat white is. My friend is a fellow foodie and instagrammer who recognizes the need to stand up over the table to take 49 pictures before that first sip or bite. My photography skills are quite lacking so this is especially challenging for me. People at nearby tables must think I’m a phone-obsessed exerciser who keeps bobbing up and down.

After brunch, I went to my sisters’ apartment to take care of Tabby. Tabby is the one and only cat I’m not allergic to so far. It’s very odd. Cats are not my favorite but I grudgingly accept Tabby. He is solid white with a tail like a brontosaurus. His strong white tail knocked over and broke a glass French Press before I could react quickly enough to save it. (Me to sisters: “your cat is alive your French Press is dead please don’t leave me this long again”)

I also did various errands today which always, always take longer than they should. Drew had a break from school and spent time with a friend while I was brunching and then using 100 lint roller sheets to remove white cat hair from my dark wash jeans. The older kids stayed home to study.

At the end of the day, when brunch had worn off and I felt like a weak, regular human a friend from church called. What we were doing for dinner? Would we like to come over to their house for a traditional St. Patrick’s Day meal?

Since my dinner plan consisted of frozen chimichangas and we miraculously had a free evening, it was an easy and delighted yes. Seriously-that was the nicest thing. I really appreciate how they blessed us-it was the best of times!

As the Irish say-

May the hand of a friend always be near you,
And may God fill your heart with gladness to cheer you.

A farewell and a blessing,

Rachel

*Daylight Savings Time, aka Week That Royally Messes Up Kids’ Sleep & Moods

Letter 9

Letter 11 

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Letter 9 {Unicorn Ions, Sanity}

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Dear Candace,

I’m sitting in front of my new sun lamp. The manual claims that using the light with the negative ionizer* will make me feel as if I’m at the beach on a blue sky day.

I mean. Those are some big claims. It’s terribly gray and cloudy outside, so now is as good a time as any to spend 30 minutes with an anti-depression light.

Along with my fancy new happy light device, I did end up purchasing a wake-light alarm, too. I found it on sale for $20 cheaper than the normal price! #bargainbabe

I thought perhaps it would help me wake easier as well as wean me from relying on my phone for an alarm. I’m trying to get my phone out of the bedroom completely in the evening.

I’ve busted all previous alarms, so part of waking up is trying to keep myself from slamming the thing to the floor. The light really makes a difference. In addition to helping my body out of it’s sleep cycle, when I turn the alarm off the light stays on which makes it easier to actually roll my booty OUT of bed instead of rolling over IN the bed.

I’m slowly getting back into exercising. As in-I started up again and then got massively ill and commenced laying around for days while preserving my winter body fat layers. My phrase for this year-”Do the Next Thing” aka “Just Keep Swimming” in the words of Dory-is an appropriate reminder to just pick up where I left off and keep forward motion.

My two youngest siblings spent the week with us while my parents vacationed in Florida. That meant a total of 5 children including two 14 year old males**  in the house. That meant dozens of muffins disappeared, a huge pot of chili snapped up, too many dirty socks to count, smelly shoes errywhere and really loud outside voices inside. To say nothing of the knives, BB guns, skateboards, and trampoline tricks that had me banning half of them and double-checking the fastest route to urgent care because WHEN I’M THE ONLY ADULT AROUND I’M SCARED.

Some of the spring trees are blooming around here! A vague shimmer of green buds can be seen in this wave of brown…

I will survive,

Rachel

*Negative Ions. Apparently these are found naturally in air, forests, waterfalls, the laughs of babies, and unicorns. Harmless and tasteless, they are said to lift one’s spirits. I know nothing about ions, but I’m putting my trust in them.

**For those who don’t know: my son. my brother. my sanity, oh my….

Letter 8

Letter 10

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Letter 8 {Waffle Fries, Goals}

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Dear Candace,

Something very big happened. I still can’t believe how blessed I am. I thought being within 30 minutes of IKEA was enough to make me content for the rest of my life, but this is like the cherry on top: A new Chick-fil-A opened a mere four miles from my home!

It’s located right next to our library, which is undergoing an enormous expansion and remodel. So when I’m in the library, I can look through the window directly at Chick-fil-A and think about how wonderful waffle fries and frosted lemonade is. And when I’m in Chick-fil-A I can gaze into the Library and think about which next true crime book I want to check out. It’s a perfect marriage.

If you come to visit I will take you there and if we want to be good, we can have a salad. The salads ARE yummy. I think with the accountability of a companion I could overcome the fries and just stick with a salad. I’m going to have to think this through.

Growing up in a small town, then living in rural Missouri through my teens and twenties makes this whole suburban experience a novelty I’m never tired of. I CAN WALK TO A STARBUCKS HALLELUJAH.

In contrast to this wonder in my life, I’ve been sick all week. You’d think I put “BE SICK” on my 2017 list of resolutions with how often it’s happened this year. I’m pretty much wasting away what little youth and beauty I have left. When company dropped by, they skirted around me very carefully, their eyes wide. And I HAD put on a little foundation and mascara, even.

Perhaps I should see my current circumstances as a gift. All this illness and melancholy probably means I’m about ready to write an epic, tragic love story. It will be so movingly written that even I, the stone-cold non-crier at the movie theater, will shed a tear when my powerful tale of love and loss is told onscreen. Aren’t some of the best things borne out of difficult times? If not a novel, surely these bouts of illness will at least produce a poem in the vein of John Keats. This could be the fever talking, but I doubt it.

Please make sure my book gets published should I die as soon as I finish the manuscript,

Rachel

 

Letter 7

Letter 9

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Letter 7 {Snakeskin Boa}

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Dear Candace,

My recent weekend in Chicago reminded me that, due to my laziness in the exercise department, I have gotten very winter-weak. My legs are sore from all the walking I was ill-prepared for. I ate doughnuts and dumplings while in Chicago, which cheered me considerably, but something must be done about my muscles. They just WILL NOT tone themselves.

I’m writing this outside on the back deck at my patio table which sits out in all weather because a) nowhere to put it and b) if it survived the last 50 years I’m not about to coddle it now. It’s a 74 degree day in February! I decided to wear shorts today-even though it’s not sunny, the warmness is wonderful. It seemed a safe thing to do, since I’d be home all day and scandalizing no one but my children with the whiteness of my legs. I jumped on the trampoline with Drew for a few minutes. “Your toes are really white, Mom, whiter than mine.” I’m going to paint them soon.

Beside me on the table is a snakeskin. This weekend Caleb’s corn snake, Mango, shed his skin and the children are quite proud of the result. Caleb says it indicates how healthy his reptile is, how well he takes care of it, and is using this fact as leverage to wheedle for another snake. Drew picked up the intact shed to drape it lovingly around my neck. “No!” I exclaimed, extricating myself. “Always ask someone for permission before you drape a snakeskin around their neck.”

The things I catch myself saying in this household.

This is random, or maybe it’s the feeling of spring in the air, but I want to do something fabulous with my front porch. I don’t know what, or how, but it needs a makeover. The old, stained concrete floor is impossible to clean and a past experience with painting concrete makes me leery to paint it. Right now I have a couple rugs out, which help, but I’d love to completely redo this space. Having a covered porch on a small house feels like an extension of our living space which I want to capitalize on more.

This desire is probably also influenced by my reading of the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair and the work of the architects, landscapers, and designers who made such a remarkable event come together. I’d like to Grand Exposition my front porch.

Spring dreams,

Rachel

 

Letter 6

Letter 8

Letter 6 {Coffee Memories}

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Dear Candace,

I had an unexpected memory sensation this week. After reheating my remaining day old French Press coffee (made by the ten year old as part of my special served-in-bed Valentine’s breakfast) I leaned over to inhale the delicious strong blackness and was immediately seated at my grandparents’ kitchen table. Grandpa and I were across from each other, coffee in hand poured from the always-on percolator. Grandma floated around the kitchen in her familiar manner. Never was there sugar or cream. I would sip slowly out of an old train-car coffee cup leftover from Grandpa’s days as a conductor. Sometimes when I visit diners in St. Louis I’m reminded of those cups-perfectly thick, not tall.

I’m wistful about those coffee conversations. Tuesdays with Grandma while Grandpa went bowling and shopping. Coffee before he left, coffee after he returned, Pepsi with Grandma and watching the Ellen show in-between. Fish and fries from Long John Silver’s for dinner. It was tradition-Tuesday was fish day for Grandpa! The ordinary and hardness of those Tuesdays is missed.

I’m thinking, too, about all the conversations we’ve had over coffee. Tears and laughter in our cups.  A lot of life has happened around coffee. I’m all nostalgic and grateful for that coffee-life right now.

Short but sweet and definitely sappy,

Rachel

P.S. If we ever have to stop drinking coffee because of some bizarre health reason or shortage in the world let’s try this instead. It looks strong and delicious enough to handle whatever we may throw at it.

Letter 5

Letter 7

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Letter 5 {Super Bowl}

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Dear Candace,

Monday

The Pride & Prejudice soundtrack is perfect for days when the sky feels like a weighted blanket. My candles are lit, my coffee is hot, and the house is blissfully quiet while the children are at their classes.

I should be cleaning. I should be grocery shopping. There are always so many shoulds, aren’t there? Instead I will take this opportunity to read, pray, reflect, write, and perhaps pour myself a second cup.

Last night Tom and the boys watched the Super Bowl.* The Fox Sports app was streaming it live so they were able to watch it for free, yay! As you well know, I have not an athletic bone in my body nor do I follow sports, much, but I am always okay with snacks and family time and the commercials are kind of great.

I put on comfy clothes and worked in the kitchen all afternoon and evening. I don’t usually tackle big jobs on Sunday afternoons, but on Saturday Tom installed LED lighting and the kitchen had vomited into the dining room. Several cabinets had to be emptied while he worked on the wiring, and naturally I decided to reorganize. If we’re gonna have a mess anyway, why not make it a bigger one, right?!? I found those espresso beans you gave me, hidden behind boxes of tea. My limited counter space caused a series of conflicting emotions as I determined what could stay out, what must be stored in a cabinet, what must go. It’s like pulling on a pair of too-tight jeans: I…WILL…MAKE…YOU…FIT…

Being two steps away from the living room meant I was present for the whole Super Bowl event even though I didn’t actually sit down and watch it. That’s the good thing about being in a small house-you’re only two steps away from everything. That’s the bad thing about being in a small house-you’re only two steps away from everything.

Favorite commercial? Definitely Christopher Walken’s bai ad because, well, three things: Christopher Walken, Justin Timberlake’s velvet jacket, cleverness.  Runner up? The celebrity Honda commercial because: sweet, sappy, just-keep-swimming inspiration.

Friday

I made it! This week included 60+ degree weather, -30 degree weather, my kids developing a fascination for skateboarding and begging to do it on the daily, the house across from us being condemned due to structural unsoundness, and my left eyeball swelling nearly closed because of an infection. In other words, the usual.

As part of his school, Drew was required to write a letter to the president. I remember doing the same thing as an elementary student, and the excitement of getting a letter back from the White House! Drew had a hard time deciding what he would write, but in the end he chose to include this in his letter:

“Do you like Harry Potter? The Harry Potter books are my favorite. If you have never read them you should.”

I suspect our Commander in Chief has NOT read them, and this is part of his problem.

Have a great weekend,

Rachel

*Using Amazon’s fire stick which is new to us and quite handy

Letter 4

Letter 6

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