A Wildwood Story

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

Reading

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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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Letter 19 {Storms + Being Alone}

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Dear Candace,

If it’s not flood water, it’s high winds.

Last night I woke with a jolt at 3:00 a.m. “Oh no!” I thought. “Please not another 3 hours of insomnia.” 

My unwanted guest, insomnia, has been showing up on occasion, despite the UNwelcome mat. I wasn’t plagued with insomnia, though. I soon realized I was dealing with a headache from the changes in barometric pressure. Within the hour, the storm hit and and I could hear the incredible whooshing of the wind. I grabbed my phone to check the weather radar. A bad thunderstorm, but no tornado warnings I could see. I told myself that if I heard the sirens go off, I would move downstairs to the basement. Otherwise, there was no way I was leaving my squishy Purple mattress. Plus, being alone in the house, the basement seemed extra-scary and dark.

The idea was that while Tom and the kids were off adventuring at the family farm, I would get some needed rest in a quiet house. I ended up laying awake in the early morning hours listening to the rain hit the window like gravel two feet from my bed. Eventually I did go back to sleep, and woke to a white yard covered in my neighbor’s catalpa blossoms! The storm downed an electric wire (draped across the street in front of my house, of course), with trees and heavy branches littering yards and streets. I’m thankful I never lost power!

I just finished The ZooKeeper’s Wife, and now I’m reading All the Light We Cannot See. Both take place during WWII. The first is the true story of a Polish couple living in Warsaw and how the war affected them and the zoo they managed. The second is historical fiction and intertwines the lives of a Parisian girl and a young German soldier-highly recommended by all my friends who’ve read it! I have very well-read friends; they advise me on what to read next (and boy is my list long).

Today I finished nearly all the laundry and put four lemonade pies in the freezer, so I feel very pleased even though my to-do list is still quite long. Lemonade pies and fresh blueberries signal all things summer-can’t wait to share them with friends and family this weekend. Come have a slice!

I just noticed something. The house creaks an awful lot when you’re the only one in it.

Hoping I survive another night alone in Kansas,

Dorothy

Letter 18

Letter 20

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Letter 15 {Things I’m Loving}

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My Dear Candace,

This letter is a day late because, while I knew today was Saturday, I thought it was Friday. It completely made sense in my mind world until I sat down to write to you and everything slowly jelled together…Friday is not actually part of Saturday and did in fact end at 11:59pm the night before. These are hard realities to grasp sometimes.

Drew is watching an episode of The Andy Griffith Show right now and for the last 15 minutes all I’ve heard from the living room is the sound of a baby crying and Aunt Bea’s worried voice. I don’t recall this episode or have any clue what the story-line is. Now Aunt Bea AND the baby are crying and I’m about to join them from the exhaustion of it all. This is not my idea of “let’s relax a little before bedtime.” Listen to pretend TV show babies cry on a not-Friday-night after a busy day? Check!

In addition to my fascination with my new BFF coffeemaker, here are some things I’m loving this week:

The word “Epistolary.”

Music: Alice, by Bianca Ryan

Reading: Sixty Million Frenchmen Can’t Be Wrong: Why We Love France but Not the French

Food: The miracle of cooking brown rice in my instant pot! I’ve been using this recipe.

You should know about these things.

Happy Weekend!

Rachel

Letter 14

Letter 16

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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 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 4 {Simply Tuesday}

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Dear Candace,

Everything has been chilly this week. The political climate, the weather, the man who didn’t hold open the door for me when my arms were full at the UPS office.

We have had a bit of sunshine, but only enough to raise one’s hopes before they are crushed down again. I think I need more vitamin D. I’m beyond Irish girl white now, I’m vampire flesh white. Do you think scrubbing with sugar scrub and applying some sunless tanner would help or no?

It’s possible I’m Winter Exaggerating again but I doubt it. How can one be thankful for the gift of each day and also beg for it to be over? This is my paradox.

I started the book Simply Tuesday. My eyes were welling up just reading the introduction.* Me, the non-crier. {It’s Winter Crying.} Anyway, I haven’t even made it to the first chapter yet I’m completely in love with Emily’s lyrical words (we’re friends now, her and I) and gentle offering of sweet water in days which feel dry, dull, listless.

“Someone once pointed out to me how, even though we always think of heaven as up-beyond the clouds, above the weather, and over the rainbow-it may actually not be far up.

‘What if,’ this person wondered, ‘heaven is simply one inch above the ground?’

It’s still up, but it’s not so far away. Instead the kingdom of God exists right here in the moments where we live.”

The kingdom of God exists even in the grayest Midwest.

All my love and some cheerful red lipstick,

Rachel

P.S. Our Christmas tree did not come down when I declared it would. It was almost a full week later before it got put away, and that mere moments before Edward arrived. In fact, he watched me organize and pack away the ornaments. Then I saw a friend post a picture of her cozy tree on Instagram-she leaves it up all of January and enjoys the lights, it’s very hygge-and I stopped feeling irritated at myself. Bless that tree (it’s now stuffed unceremoniously under the basement steps).

*Do you read Introductions? I feel obligated to do so, and usually enjoy them very much.

Letter 3

Letter 5

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