Traditions...

 When I think about traditions, I tend to imagine that they are relatively rigid. In fact, traditions are, by their very nature, flexible things. When I was growing up, my parents hosted Thanksgiving most years. The house would be filled with aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents. The scents, sounds, flavors, and design were similar each year but never exactly the same. 

Chris and I moved to our first small house in Memphis and started hosting Thanksgiving each year for local family and friends as newlyweds. I carried many of my mom's traditions with me. From the weeks of cleaning and polishing, and readying the house to the types of dishes I prepared, her traditions became my own. She liked to have a vase full of yellow roses for the holiday. 

I like to scatter single roses all around the house in vintage bottles. 

She often served a platter of shrimp as an appetizer. We nod to her as we do the same. 

This year our tradition got a workout being flexible. I made only our favorite things, and in vastly smaller portions than usual, because instead of hosting 20 or so, it was just going to be four of us and the Owlet. Chris cooked the shrimp and made the spinach dip we always serve. I made mashed potatoes, stuffing, bread, rum cake, and pecan pie. We roasted a turkey. Well, half of a turkey. Last spring, I reserved a fresh turkey from my farmer friend. If you have never had fresh, pastured turkey, let me tell you, it is entirely delicious. All summer, the turkeys grew as they ate not only turkey food but blueberries and apples and other tasty treats. I saw them from time to time, and they looked healthy, happy, and large. The Monday before Thanksgiving, the farmer messaged me that the birds were being processed Tuesday. "How big are they?" I asked. "Big," she replied. In an unusual flash of brilliance, I asked to have mine split down the middle by the butcher. When the bird was delivered, I was mighty glad I'd had that thought. The turkey I'd ordered, thinking I would feed a crowd, was 36 pounds!  For four of us. Many laughs were had. We put one half in the freezer for another time. 

Yesterday I placed the 18-pound half-bird in my most giant roaster, and it hung over the edges a bit. I tucked it in with a layer of buttered cheesecloth and cooked it until it was fragrant and golden. We all agreed, it was the star of the feast. The most delicious turkey yet. 

When Evans joined the family, Rachel asked him what dish he would like to see at our table... something that was a traditional favorite from his family holiday. His answer was green bean casserole, and Rachel got the recipe from his grandmother. She now makes it on the years they come here for Thanksgiving. She made it yesterday, adding her husband's family tradition to ours in a delicious way. 

At the candle-lit table, holding the Owlet and chatting over the meal, I had to wonder how the heritage of celebration will be reflected in her life? I hope there will be roses and laughter, plenty and grace. And so much love. 

Sunday at the Farmlette...

 The Sunday before Thanksgiving usually finds me polishing silver, organizing serving pieces and platters, decorating, fussing, and checking my "to do" and grocery list twice. That is because typically, friends and family (often 20 or more) gather here to celebrate. It is something I treasure. When we found out that our grandchild was due to arrive just days before Thanksgiving this year, we changed things up and had a more casual family gathering in October. I will still cook a turkey (raised just a few miles from here) and our favorite side dishes, but it will just be the two of us, our daughter and son-in-love, and The Owlet (my new nickname for our big-eyed grand.) It feels odd not to be in the throes of planning the feast. Cooking for such a small group will be simple. 

So today, instead of hustling and bustling and getting ready for a big party, I slept in a little. After breakfast, Chris and I went outside and cleaned the chicken coops and the goat house. It's not difficult work but takes some time. We find that, like everything in life, it is easier when we do it together. I shovel and sweep; he hauls the old shavings to the manure pile and hands me bales of fresh new ones. I love the feeling of spreading a deep layer of clean, fragrant pine shavings in each of the houses. As soon as we are done, the chickens come to check out their cleaned homes. 

I leave the bedding in a pile in the center of the goat house. They will spread it themselves, but first, they like to rest on top of the mound. Here is Bliss, smack in the center, looking pleased. 

Chris kindly got out his power tools and sealed the little door in the side of the goat house for the winter. 

Wonderful Brenda was here last week, working her magic. She comes in the fall, her little car loaded with pine, cedar, and juniper. Winterberries, too. While I work inside, she bustles about, lugging armloads of greens here and there.  Soon every garden bed is tucked under a fragrant blanket. 

And the arbor, well, she dons her winter garb so prettily that everyone comments on her. 

White lights illuminate it all the long winter night. It's incredibly charming with a dusting of fresh snow. 

Even the little Silky coop gets a window box full of lovely. 

Today I had time to walk around and admire Brenda's handiwork up close while I filled bird feeders and tidied up a few things. 

Once our chores were done, we cleaned ourselves up and went for a drive. We ended up at The Whales Tooth Pub in Lincolnville, where we enjoyed a relaxing late lunch and a view. 

It was a pleasant and productive Sunday at the Farmlette. While I am not celebrating in a big way this year, I have so very much to be thankful for. 

Changes...

 Life is full of changes. When I started my business 7 years ago I worked alone and loved it. Two years later I fell and dislocated my shoulder and was out of commission for a long, long time.  Sweet daughter Rachel jumped in to save me, working her regular job and grooming a few days a week.  I was anxious to get back to my "normal" schedule and let her get on with her own life. But after a while, I began to realize I would be terribly sad for her to go. I kept my lips zipped, not wanting to deter her from her plans.  One happy day she said, "You know, I really like working here with you. May I stay?" I did a little happy dance, and we have worked together almost every day since. There are lots of laughs, and we make an exceptionally good team. One customer said, "Watching the two of you together is like watching water ballet." 

Now she is on maternity leave and I am back to working alone. I am getting into the rhythm of the thing, and it is fine. I miss the easy comradery Rachel and I have,(not to mention the fact that she always does the heavy lifting!)  but she cheers me up by sending frequent pictures and videos of the baby. Today I got a video of her smiling a precious little lopsided grin, and I was happy all day thinking about it. More changes will come in a few months when Rachel and baby come to work. I can hardly wait. 

Our customers have been amazing. Some kindly moved/canceled appointments while I was with Rachel as she labored. Many have brought gifts. Every day I assemble a pile of presents that look like we've had a baby shower. With every gift, Rachel says, "How lucky to have a well-loved baby!" Indeed.

I sometimes like to change up the furniture around here. I almost exclusively buy second-hand pieces, cheap, but I saw two new upholstered chairs online that tickled my fancy and were reasonably priced. I took a risk and ordered them. They arrived this week, and are a nice size, adorable shape, and have pretty fabric. The downside? Sitting in them is akin to perching on a concrete slab. Since Chris and I hang out on the ugly but OH SO COMFY sofa, this does not affect us as all, but I suspect visitors won't choose to stay long. (On that note, our son-in-love stopped in tonight and pronounced the new chairs to be "the most comfortable you've ever had." This is the same guy that happily sleeps on a hard floor.)  

It's been a lovely fall.  Quite a lot of rain, but no snow and fairly mild temperatures. I have a light fleece jacket hanging by the door to wear while I do chores and have been lacing up my sneakers for outside work. This morning I looked out the bedroom window and saw the world coated in thick frost. I took a moment and gathered my trusty Muck boots and Carhartt jacket from the closet.  I am ready to face the changing season. 

Small things...

 In August one of our hens hatched out a single chick. That chick is nearly full-grown now. It's been fun watching the mama and chick pottering about the pasture. They are inseparable, and even though the baby is big now, if I peek into the coop at night I see that the hen has one wing spread protectively over her wee one. 

The chick does something cute. At least once a day I look out and see her perched on Spirit's back. 

Never on Bliss. Only on Spirit. As you can see from this photo, Spirit looks very happy with her pal on board. I think she's smiling. 

I feed the birds here and it brings me a lot of pleasure to see an endless parade of chickadee's, nuthatches, cardinals, woodpeckers, jays, and more flitting about and feasting on nuts and seeds. I keep the birdseed in a galvanized bucket with a tight-fitting lid on the front deck. First thing every morning, before I am even wide awake, I go out to give the birds breakfast. Imagine my surprise one day last week when I opened that snug lid and was greeted by this: 

They must have thought they had reached mouse heaven... until they realized they were stuck and there was no water to be found. I couldn't bring myself to smack their little heads in, so I let them go. I'm sure I'll live to regret it because they are probably dashing into the pantry to help themselves to Ritz crackers as we speak. 

Small things, everywhere I look. Some are more delightful than others. 

Welcome to the world...

 Welcome to the world, baby girl!  

Last week my daughter and son-in-love welcomed a baby into our family. I am unable to find words to properly express the level of excitement and joy in my heart. I love babies. I adore my daughter. To be able to be a part of the life of my daughter's baby is a gift beyond belief.   

Her parents have given the matter great thought and wisely do not want their child "growing up" on the internet, but gave me permission to make an introduction. So, without further ado, let me announce my new granddaughter. 

Oh, wait. I must interrupt the story for a moment. 

The dogs are just as thrilled as the humans by this new addition. Bravo has a history of loving infants, and he is fascinated by this one. Opal instantly seemed to understand that this baby was hers. If the baby cries, she rushes to alert the mama, even if the baby is safe in daddy's arms. She does not want to leave the house without the baby along, and cuddles up close to her every chance she gets. I neglected to get a picture of Flirt with the new addition, but she is also completely smitten. Since the dogs are an important part of the family, it is an added blessing that they are on board with embracing our newest member. 

She roared into the world and was placed on her mother's chest. After a long, arduous labor, Rachel responded to greeting her new babe by instantly breaking into song... the same song she often sang while she was gestating. I am not a big crier, but I wept. This baby is cherished. 

Her parents took a bit of time naming her. Although Rachel and I had discussed names endlessly over the last 9 months, I didn't know what the final choice would be.  She tormented me by waiting until she placed the wee 6-pound bundle into my arms. 

It's easy to forget just how very tiny a newborn infant is. I thought I was prepared for just how small she would be, but I was not. I was surprised by her tiny feet and hands, her long fingers, her wee little ears. But my arms remembered how to hold such a minuscule human, and I was exactly as enchanted as I expected to be. I thrill with every breath that passes through her incredibly small nostrils. I am sunk. 

It is safe to say her new parents are also sunk. They are sleep-deprived but coping with this major life change with grace, teamwork, and deep love. It is inspiring to see. 

We are all in love. The dogs. The grandparents. The parents. And friends, far and wide, who have made wee hats (see above) and sweaters. Booties and blankets. Quilts and toys. Presents keep flowing in, all to welcome the gift of this bright, beautiful new spirit. We are so glad you are here, baby girl. We can't want to get to know you, Tempest Rebecca.