Tag Archives: 365 project

this moment

Joining Amanda for this Friday ritual

————————————-  a l s o,    t o d a y  ——————————–

More to come…

p.s. I’ve been working to make the directory of FREE Montessori resources a bit more user friendly AND I’ve added several new pages of FREE resources this week.
Hope you enjoy! 

 

365 | the farmhouse table

Dust flies. Dirt fades. I work my way slowly around its rough hewn edges, taking care not to erase the stories I imagine etched in the honeyed worn planks. And while its history is forever hidden, its future is sure. Nestled squarely in the center of our life in these four walls, it will soon hold feasts and fire, books and bread, messes and memories as three times a day we’ll gather round to drink deep of love, laughter, plans, and prayers. Soon.

A special thank you to all of you that participated in {i n h a b i t} this past weekend. It was such a blessing to read your beautiful words. We’ll do it again this Friday. I look forward to seeing you there.

this moment

{A Friday ritual, joining Amanda Soule…}

 

P.S.
 {i n h a b i t} – celebrating the roots and ritual of home- begins today.
Feel free to add your link anytime this weekend.
I’ll close the comments on Monday morning.

365 | this moment

{A Friday ritual…Visit SouleMama to join in.} 

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I had no idea that so many mamas would connect with the idea of our Storytime Diary but I thought it would be fun to collaborate a bit. The post now contains a link to our list with a place for you to add your own at your leisure. We look forward to adventuring with you.

continue to the storytime diary...

Happy Friday!

365 | the farm {part 5}


Work. Dawn to dusk, it never ends here. For a moment, the charm of these rolling acres folds back like a curtain and I see the black and white of it – predictability….repitition…and dare I say, monotony. But here the picture clears. It’s not a list. It’s life. It’s not the interruption. It’s the rhythm. My mind wanders home, to the brick house on the small lot with the laundry mountains and the willful child and the weary waking to do it all over again, but the picture sharpens. And this ever so small shift shakes my tired hands and heart of their lethargy.  Weighty chains of something too closely resembling resentment are wrung from the day’s duties with such force I can hear them chink and clatter in the fall. The veil between sacred and ordinary lifts and work and worship marry in the shadow of the wise old oaks…and I am revived.

The Farm | Part 4

The Farm | Part 3

The Farm | Part 2

The Farm | Part 1

 

365 | the farm {part 4}

They’re scattered everywhere – relics of another season of sowing and reaping, springtime and harvest, propped against outbuildings and oaks. Whose hands and hearts have nursed these fertile acres? My eyes fall across the land – a patchwork of emerald and straw drapes hill and valley. A door slams, interrupting my thoughts and I see her across the yard, one loyal companion beside. A nod and a half-smile and we exchange a few words about the peacefulness of this place she calls home and the old dog and the dark sky. There’s something about her that begs knowing – this grandmother with the work-worn hands and piercing eyes – but I shy away from questions. There is much to be done, and soon before this rain presses in.

The Farm | Part 5

The Farm | Part 3

The Farm | Part 2

The Farm | Part 1

365 | the farm {part three}

The rich hues of this season’s harvest catch her eye against the weathered brown of the porch planks and she ambles up the steps for a closer look. Dried corn and rusted chimes swing from the rafters. Bees buzz. She makes her rounds…potatoes, gourds, squash, pumpkins and I explain and  I can see all the turning – the husk in her hand and the wheels in her head. She looks up at me with an expression that borders on disbelief. So this is really how it is? Seeds sleep in brown velvet, rain bathes, sun beckons upward, and they become this?  And I frown that the miracle was so long ago lost on me. And as I’m speaking cold hard facts into the upturned face of this explorer, I find myself suddenly awash with wonder at the wonderful and worshipping.

The Farm | Part 4

The Farm | Part 2

The Farm | Part 1