A Wildwood Story

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

Letters to Candace

Letter 31 {A Return}

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Dear Candace,

It’s been almost 30 weeks since my last letter. {Letter 30} It’s like I planned this!

I did not plan this. I plan nothing.

As I reflect on that last letter and our time at the ocean, it seems much more distant than 30 weeks. That’s what winter does to you. Winter keeps you in its winter grip, dimming memories of sunshine and warm. I miss warm. Please don’t console me with words of spring; I prefer being melancholy right now.

Here are the top things you need to know about the past 30 weeks, in case I’ve forgotten to mention them:

I’ve been reading more, so that’s a good thing. In fact, I just devoured Ann Rule’s The Stranger Beside Me so fast I’m still dizzy. At almost 500 pages, it’s no light read. I chose her book on Ted Bundy, convicted serial killer (who I knew very little about), over numerous piles of laundry and I feel I made the right choice.

Ann writes carefully, thoughtfully, honestly. She humanizes Ted as she grapples with what her friendship with him meant as well as her slow discovery that, unbelievably, he really was capable of and responsible for atrocious crimes. She compassionately brings the victims’ stories to light so they will not be forgotten or overlooked. I need you to read this ASAP so we can DISCUSS.

Following a somewhat dark (or at least sobering) thread, I also recently read Everything I Never Told You, by Celeste Ng. Even though the story is fictional, the relationships and scenarios described were very relatable. The real life ending left me alternately devastated and hopeful. It’s a book I’ll be thinking about for a long time.

It was fun times helping pull off a Bachelorette party for my sister Naomi. {Instagram picture here.} She’s getting married at the end of the month! Do I have a dress picked out? That would be a NO. I’m trying, though, I really am. I’ve tried on so many dresses the inside of dressing rooms have begun to feel like a familiar cell.

For the Bachelorette, instead of a fancy dinner at one restaurant, we visited three different small-plate style restaurants in St. Louis which was perfect; props to my sister Keturah for planning our destinations: Taste, Planter’s House, & Bridge. Before the party officially started, I managed to lock us all out of our hotel bathroom with a hot iron on inside. I’d been brushing my teeth at the time while wandering around (?) and had a mouthful of spit when I tried to get back in the bathroom. Why do hotel bathrooms need locks, anyway? We waited around in our finery, me with fuzzy toothpaste all over my teeth, until hotel staff came up to unlock the door, which was not awkward for me at all.

My insomnia is better and I’m SUPER thankful for that. It’s annoying to not be able to sleep well and soundly, and this experience has deepened my sympathy for people with chronic sleep issues more severe than mine. I’ve been working on a bedtime routine to aid in successful slumbers; I’ll have to share more about that. I feel like I’m concocting a magical sleep recipe every night, complete with a bunny eye mask-!

What else? I traveled a little. By myself to CO for a retreat, with the family to TX for hurricane relief work, to TN for holiday celebrations. I must’ve done a few other things, too, but now all I can think about is all that laundry I put off…

Thanks for reading; you’re the best-

Rachel

Letter 30 {Beach Bums}

Letter 32 {Don’t be Rash}

This letter contains affiliate links, which means if you make a purchase after clicking through one of my links, I may receive a {very small} commission at no extra cost to you. Thank you for supporting this blog! It means the world and a stack of letters to me.

Photo by Jeffrey Wegrzyn on Unsplash

Letter 30 {Beach Bums}

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Dear Candace,

I’m writing to you on the 16th floor balcony of our lovely condo overlooking the Gulf of Mexico. It’s the very best of views, and perfect for dolphin spotting. The beach sand below is not unlike powdered sugar; the constant breeze invigorating. Cliche, but…it feels like I’m in a dream! The whole family is loving this experience. Our first day here was spent almost entirely in the ocean, riding waves and hunting for shells. I finished a book. We drank gallons of liquid. The paint is coming off my toenails. I have the oddest tan lines on the entire beach (positive about this).

Hmm, do I have to go back? We can home-school right here! 😉

Short but sweet, because the waves beckon and I must go.

Also I must NOT get a sunburn.

Seashells and squid tails,

Rachel

Letter 29 {Snippets, BLT’s}

Letter 31 {A Return}

 

 

Letter 29 {Snippets, BLT’s}

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Dear Candace,

It feels suspiciously like fall outside with the sky an electric blue and the temps dropping to a lovely, cool 60 degrees. It’s the fifth of August. I will only accept such weather behavior as a reprieve from the heat and not as the early onset of fall. I love fall, but in its place; it must bow to summer. It’s summer’s apology for being over. I can’t think about this right now. I need summer with all my heart.

My head is full of books and lessons and lists as we prepare for a new educational year with the kids. Classes signed up for, new math books started, it’s all underway and I am being reluctantly swept along!

I am trying to think about what happened this past week…how do summer days escape so quickly?? Our HVAC unit was replaced, so there was a lot of in-and-out related to that. We hosted a total of four nieces and nephews one day while their mama went to the doctor, I accused the deer of razing down some plants when really it was Tom trimming things up, we went to all the lessons and all the things, another sister-in-law and her girls visited, Caleb’s snake (Mango) returned home after a summer spent at a childrens’ camp, the garden started churning out tomatoes and now my counters are lined with them (BLT’s 4EVAH*), I started reading Seabiscuit, and about 40 other things.

Remember when I started the book Simply Tuesday, something life half a year ago? I’m almost finished reading it. I’ve been savoring it-a few lines here and there during my morning reading over the last several months.

Here is what I read this morning, and it’s sticking to me like a burr:

I sat on a bench with a book and a journal at a local park, but I did more staring than reading. I watched the moms and babies stroll by, the workers with their good intentions toward the public bathrooms, the guy on his bike who roe without a helmet. I read a little about David, how he was both a man after God’s heart and a killer. I thought about how none of us are just one thing, but many shades of light and dark and shadows of gray, proof that we need Jesus.

-Emily P. Freeman

Love,

Rachel

*Facebook post about this: Here is the thing. It’s tomato season and you need plenty of home-grown tomatoes (I can help you with that), thick-sliced bacon (hard for me to share but I will make an effort), crisp lettuce (not weak, watery iceberg; the real green stuff), and mayo (you know you want the chipotle or sriracha kind). Sourdough bread is delightful, too, but if you’re avoiding bread then just wrap everything else together and throw in some sliced jalapeños for good measure. Breakfast, lunch, dinner-boom. Menu planning is over.

Letter 28 

Letter 30

This letter contains affiliate links, which means if you make a purchase after clicking through one of my links, I will receive a {very small} commission at no extra cost to you. Thank you for supporting this blog! It means the world and a stack of letters to me.

Letter 28 {Ice-cream Tribulations}

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Dear Candace,

You know how family vacation begins. Finally, the van is loaded. Finally, everyone has gone potty (some of them twice) and is buckled in. You instruct everyone to absolutely not tug on or remove anything in the carefully arranged stacks of suitcases and paraphernalia lest it trigger a catastrophic un-packing event in which the van implodes internally.

You are on the road. Mercy, husband has thoughtfully filled up with gas so the pumps can be avoided.

Of course there is that one stop at Walgreen’s for miscellany. {Why are corn chips so expensive?}

Heading out of the city, you impulsively think it would be such fun to get everyone an ice-cream treat to start the vacation off right. Whispering conspiratorially with your husband, the two of you make a plan. {Or, more accurately, since he’s driving you show him an image of an ice-cream cone on your phone and pantomime the rest so the kids don’t hear.}

Soon you stop at a McDonald’s on a busy exit. Husband has to pee since he ate a lot of watermelon earlier (when did he have time to do that? You’ve only managed to eat ONE HARD-BOILED EGG because, packing). Once inside, the waitress apologetically explains the soft serve machine is dead. No ice-cream to be had there. Back in the van, then off again to the nearest fast food joint. Jack-in-the-box is almost empty! Only two cars in the drive-through, so you get in line.

And wait.

Wait, wait, wait.

An old lady hair starts to grow on your chin.

Your husband looks at you as if to say, “Why are we doing this, again?” You back out of the the line with the other vehicles still sitting in exactly the same place. The person holding everyone up must be ordering 50 menu items in varying combinations.

Forward on the highway you go, and this time you must find ice-cream because of course now the children know. The children are counting on it. The children mustn’t be disappointed. This is vacation, after all!

Ten miles down the highway, another McDonald’s sign is spotted. Ah, this will be easy. It’s not as crowded on this exit. This way to the golden arches! Yay! We’re gonna have an ice-cream cone!

Wait-where is the restaurant? Three more miles north of the interstate? Oh.

Naturally, since it’s the only restaurant for perhaps miles in this desolate land, a crowd has gathered. The drive-through looks a bit busy, and feeling raw from your recent experience, you decided to skip it and “just run inside real quick.” The line stretches from the door to the cashier but you are not. leaving. without. ice-cream. You watch, mesmerized, as the young woman taking orders casually flicks her waist-long, thick, black braids here, there, and probably all over your ice-cream. She moves slowly and gracefully. So slowly. You know you’re getting to your destination an hour late at this point. There’s no use in fighting anymore.

When it’s your turn to order, you rattle off your requests like a pro ice-cream juggler, payment poised in hand. Just hurry, black-haired beauty, so we can get back on the road before the afternoon ends. You think this longingly, wishing you’d never suggested a deviation from the straight and narrow.

She leans into the ice-cream while she prepares it. Strands of hair wilding, ever so close. You wonder when food establishments stopped utilizing those wonderful hairnets. She can’t find things she needs-this and that is in the back and apparently she’s the only one to fetch it. Leisurely she puts everything together, as if fifty eyeballs weren’t staring at her. People in line shift behind you, clearing their throats.

When you’ve at long last returned to the van with your treats, you feel an Olympic thrill. You’ve made it to the finish line! It’s vacation! There’s ice-cream! Blessedly sought-after ice-cream. It’s already melting in this heat.

Are we there yet?

Next road trip, we are quite probably skipping the ice-cream! 😉

~Rachel

Letter 27

Letter 29

Letter 27 {Heated}

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Dear Candace,

The demise of our air-conditioning unit was conveniently timed with hottest week of the summer. There was no fix to be had, no replacement parts to be switched out, there was only the hot, sweaty silence of a broken HVAC system.

The temperature inside the house quickly climbed to 87 degrees and then some, despite my best efforts to keep fans running and blinds closed. As long as there was air-movement, it didn’t bother me too much at first. That first night we slept as au naturel as possible in order to be as comfortable as possible, taking nice cold showers before bedtime and being so thankful for electricity. Only, we hadn’t seen the hottest days yet!

On the first day that temps climbed to 100 degrees*, Tom brought home a portable window unit to regulate the main floor. It helped keep the living room area cooler. Yet even with our fans continuously on, it began to feel oppressive inside the house. The next night he bought a bargain priced old-fashioned window unit and stuck it in our bedroom window, which helped tremendously. I began to see we were becoming collectors of small AC units and fans of every shape and size. Besides all the ceiling fans, we have 4 portable fans also running constantly. The whirring and droning noises sound like a small airplane is about to take off inside the house. If the children had a hard time hearing me before, it’s impossible to get them to listen now. “What? Huh? I can’t hear you mom. I had no idea you told me 49 times to pick up my socks/shoes/dishes/books/toys.”

I just checked on Drew-he’s fast asleep on the basement floor, snuggled on a sleeping bag with his head against a large floor fan. Literally his head is on the fan.

Did you see this post about the St. Louis heat wave of 1934? I have nothing to complain about.

I have many words about my current situation, but I’ve limited my FB updates to these:

When it is 87 degrees in your house because the AC unit chose the hottest part of the year to die a permanent death, do you want to bake in the oven or cook on the stovetop? No. Use the dryer, take a relaxing bath? No and heavens no. Eat ice-cream three meals a day and dream of plunging into icy glaciers? YES
#wewillsurvive #butourdeodorantwillbetested

It’s cooling off in STL! A temp drop of about 10 degrees leaves us with a comfy 95! #rejoicealways

Stay cool my dear,

Rachel

*104 the last two days!

Letter 26

Letter 28

Letter 26 {Blackberries + Nostalgia}

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Dear Candace,

July is in full-swing and with it some familiar heat and humidity, but it’s still such a beautiful summer!

Blackberries. With July comes memories of blackberry picking as a child and all the scrumptious treats first my mom, and then my sister and myself, would prepare; namely:  jam, cobblers, and best of all PIE. Blackberry pie is my jam. The butter to my bread. It’s only contender is peach pie with warm cinnamon sauce. But in July, there can be no other pie except the humble yet remarkable blackberry.

In the early nineties, before cell-phones and helicopter parenting, Mom would drop Mara and I off at a nearby conservation area. We were given a wagon, buckets, water, and instructions to be at the rendezvous point at a specific time. Then we were left alone, trudging through the wilderness, to a familiar patch of wild, thorn-encased blackberries sharing space with poison ivy.

It’s remarkable we didn’t meet our demise in those lonely woods, by wild animal or serial killer hiker. One hot July afternoon, Mara began to feel the twinges of heat exhaustion so I laid her out in the shade and kept right on picking. There are sacrifices to be made for blackberry pie, you know. I would often get poison ivy on my face from those outings, turning into an oozing, puffy spectacle known as Cauliflower Girl. The boys were mad about me in those days.*

We’ve been traveling deep in the Ozarks for Hosanna’s horsemanship lessons, to a little farm nestled by a creek and woods. It’s a lovely drive through rich green countryside, and I’m never exactly sure what the speed limit is, though farm trucks and motorcyclists pass me regularly on corkscrew roads. We drive by old white farmhouses, garden patches, fields of corn, and homemade signs that say things like WE HAVE WORMS.

During our recent visit to the horse farm, the owners graciously led us to their blackberry patch to pick the biggest, sweetest, juiciest berries I’ve ever seen! True story. Those blackberries were the epitome of everything a blackberry should be. Three times larger than my thumb, one berry filled your mouth with its juicy goodness. While Hosanna was working with the horses, Drew and I stained our fingers and mouths roaming through the bushes. In short order we picked enough berries for a pie, which became my one fixation. No matter how tired I was, or how many dishes and chores needed to be done, we must! have! pie! Back at home that evening, I quickly put together a homemade crust** and filled it high with the glossy berries. Pie for dessert, pie for breakfast the next morning;  that’s how July is done! Until peaches are in season, I’m quite content in my current relationship with Missouri’s obsidian jewels.

Thinking now of blackberry wine,

~Rachel

*There were no boys. Mad or otherwise.

**I must be out of practice! It was not the best crust, being a bit chewy and rather a poor representation of the large amount of pies I’ve made in my lifetime. Such things keep me humble.

Letter 25

Letter 27

 

Letter 25 {Freaky Friday Arm}

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Dear Candace,

I’ve been sleeping so much better lately so naturally it was time for a bout of insomnia.

The other night at 2am I woke abruptly, feeling odd. I quickly realized I couldn’t move my right arm! It was asleep, with that funny deadened sensation. This was not a usual occurrence. I moved positions, trying to stimulate my arm. It would not be stimulated. I sat up. My arm began to feel tingly, but still it would not go back to being my arm. I got out of bed and stood up, fully awake yet wondering if I was dreaming that my arm wouldn’t work. I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and left for the bathroom. There, I googled “why is my right arm dead” and received terrifying answers about my heart. I did little pumping motions and tried squeezing my hand into a fist, well aware that these were not my preferred hours for exercising. Eventually, the feeling returned but not before I was fully freaked out. Upon my return to bed, I had to be careful about how I placed my arm so as not to let it fall asleep again.

And then I lay there for one hour forty-five minutes.

Finally realizing that my reassurances every 10 minutes of “I’ll be falling asleep any minute now” weren’t working, I turned on the phone light and grabbed my book off the nightstand. {That’s how I finished Hatching Twitter so quickly.}

Other things I did to pass the time: go potty and while walking through the dark kitchen, think about how horrible it would be to see a silent figure standing in the corner. Walk faster to the bathroom with the echoes of true crime podcasts filling my sleep-deprived mind.

Eventually, I was afraid all my tossing and turning in bed would bother Tom, so I finished the night {er, morning} in the living room. I felt mad at Jack and sad for Ev (you’ll have to read the book).

After 6am I crawled back in bed, mercifully sleepy and hopeful I could get in a couple hours of rest before taking Drew to his morning swim lessons. That 9am alarm was not easy to wake up to! But I rallied and rushed out the door as one does when life must go on.

In other news, the deer ate the new growth off my new hosta plants and now I hate them. Not the plants, the deer. It’s war.

Still sleepy,

Rachel

Letter 24

Letter 26

This letter contains affiliate links, which means if you make a purchase after clicking through one of my links, I will receive a {very small} commission at no extra cost to you. Thank you for supporting this blog! It means the world and a stack of letters to me.

Letter 24 {Scotch Eggs & Life Contemplation}

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Dear Candace,

The weekend is lazy, breezy and bright. June’s last parting gift, a reprieve from summer heat. I’m loving this Missouri spring and summer! One never can tell with Missouri.

Last weekend’s camping adventure was a delight. Specifically, camping in CABINS and not in tents or hammocks IN THE RAIN. I could get used to that kind of camping! Your breakfast of Scotch eggs was so delicious. The perfect marriage of breakfast food staples: eggs and sausage. I want them in my life more. Crispy spheres of perfection.

As I reflect on the past week, two things stand out. The importance of relationships, and the brevity of life. We hosted a few visits from family and friends at our home here in STL, and mis-mashed between those was a car accident.

The boys were driving with one of the aunts to a nearby park when their car was rear-ended. Tom and I were able to quickly arrive at the scene, even before police did, and found everyone shaken but unhurt. Drew was in the backseat. I have to stop myself from letting my mind consider all the “what ifs”…our time isn’t in our hands, and I can’t live in fear. The “what ifs” are in God’s hands. We know this, but when something like a car accident happens or cancer is diagnosed our focus becomes more narrow, more exact. Suddenly we see everything which had formerly been overlooked or not given its proper attention… the feel of warm summer, freckles on a child’s nose, being present in a moment, the full gift of life being lived.

The boys have been checked out and both received chiropractic treatments which were helpful. Then I started developing neck pain and tension with a side of massive headaches, because clearly I wanted it to be all about me. I have some thick muscle-relief salve which I applied on Thursday and am still trying to wash out of my hair. It’s very hard for me to be glamorous these days.

I am currently reading: Hatching Twitter: A True Story of Money, Power, Friendship, and Betrayal. I’m a fairly new Twitter user, tweeting in stops and starts, but always mesmerized when I scroll through my feed. That 140 character limit is BRILLIANT! It’s all so very succinct and clever. Foodie bloggers, spiritual leaders, politicians, comedians, authors, that one guy with the big family I met once who likes to #humblebrag, it’s all remarkably out there in the world, in 140 characters. It feels less cluttered than Facebook to me, which is probably why I gravitate to it more. The book delves into the people and stories behind the startup of what is now a world-wide phenomenon.

Yes, I did once tweet a message I meant to text Tom. Since I discovered this months after the fact, I could only be grateful no one really reads my tweets plus it was mundane and appropriate for all audiences. One must be very careful which platform one’s 140 characters land on.

#love

Rachel

Letter 23

Letter 25

This letter contains affiliate links, which means if you make a purchase after clicking through one of my links, I will receive a {very small} commission at no extra cost to you. Thank you for supporting this blog! It means the world and a stack of letters to me.

Letter 23 {Flowers + Owlfred}

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Dear Candace,

It’s a beautiful morning and I am pleased to report all the new flowers we’ve planted have so far survived. I didn’t realize until everything was in the ground that the color palette I chose is predominately purple! Purples and blues.

The garden owl statue you gave me for protection has been named Owlfred. He sits on the back deck and regally overlooks the yard.

The house smells rich and wonderful since I just finished baking cinnamon rolls. For our camping adventure this weekend. With you! It’s going to be fun having our families together. Let’s not get sunburns m’kay?

I finished The Foundling. Wow. So interesting! It’s hard to believe the stories in that book are true…yet they are. The truth really can be stranger than fiction.* Its been fun to read more. I’ve missed devouring books! These days I try to keep one with me wherever I go…

See you and the ticks and chiggers soon.

Love,

Rachel

* on my list of fave movies

Letter 22

Letter 24

This letter contains affiliate links, which means if you make a purchase after clicking through one of my links, I will receive a {very small} commission at no extra cost to you. Thank you for supporting this blog! It means the world and a stack of letters to me.

 

Letter 22 {June Cheers}

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Dear Candace,

This will be a shorty because I forgot to start writing to you until now and now is late. Now is past my bedtime. Now I am yawning and my feet are sore from being on them all day and my body is achy in a plum-wore-out way. I’m happy with all this, though, because it was a good day! I was able to pull off a surprise birthday party for Tom at the farm with the help of family. Seven of his eight siblings were here! Plus spouses and childrens…it was a full house. I arranged furniture out on the deck and added lights, candles, tables, music…as close to Hobbiton one can get in the Ozark woods. It was a delight to watch the children play and enjoy visiting with everyone on a beautiful June evening.

Reminder to self: treasure these remaining June evening-they only come once a year!

Also I am now a year older. Wuut!

June Bugs,

Rachel

P.S. Oh-I started reading the book you gave me. “The Foundling” is unlike any story I’ve heard and it’s quite remarkable. It’s true and sad and hopeful and all the things one wishes for in a June read.

Letter 21

Letter 23

This letter contains affiliate links, which means if you make a purchase after clicking through one of my links, I will receive a {very small} commission at no extra cost to you. Thank you for supporting this blog! It means the world and a stack of letters to me.