Pages

Sunday, September 30, 2012

Some fine things....


  Cane Creek Park
Everitt Sean

Just testing some changes I made to my subscription reader. I'm hoping I did this right and our blog is being sent to our readers correctly. Otherwise I may be starting over.....
I thought I'd share some "fine things" in my life. Some of the finest, actually!

Tim with our grandchildren at Cane Creek Park in Cookeville, TN

Aurora Lilly













 Estella just loves her little cousin Aurora




Estella Cheri


These are a few of the  fine things in my life. This is from a song by the Eagles called  Desperado. Our son recently played this and posted a video of it on facebook. He was actually quite good. Really. I should know, I have very good taste in music! (at least I think so)  He's been playing this one off and on since he was a teen. Practicing. We hadn't heard him play in a while and both of us were impressed with him. We might just be a bit biased....

  In the song, is a  line that goes like this....."Now it seems to me some fine things have been laid upon your table, but you only want the ones that you can't get."......... This is often so true in our lives. It just seems that we are never quite satisfied with what we have. That there is always something more that would make us happy if we could just somehow, find a way to get it.  I have often thought of these words whenever I find myself longing for something just out of my reach. 

                                           Some fine things have indeed, been laid upon our table! 

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

The House that Tim built, the beginning



I'm sure I've mentioned once or twice that we are building a house. We have been slowly doing this for the last five years or so. Time is our main hindrance to it's progression.  Tim is a master carpenter/McGyver type handyman. I really am not bragging on him, well maybe just a tad bit. He has the 'almost miraculous' ability to take something, that most people in our American culture would simply discard and buy new, and make it look as if,  that is just what he did.

I'd like to tell you the story of the House that Tim built. This story is still being written and will continue to be so, this is really just the beginning. I'll try to keep you up to date as we go along.



It all began with an idea. Don't all good projects begin that way? It really wasn't even all his idea. Our son Jeff owned some property and had wanted to build a house on it for several years.
The property was adjacent to the 100 plus year old  farm house we owned at the time.
That was a fun house. We thoroughly enjoyed our time we lived there. It was however, over 100 years old and needed more work than we were able to afford.  The housing market was in good shape and it sold in record time, to a nice couple who have been kind to it and have continued to remodel it, to match it's era.

I would love to be able to show picture of this next process but....I have been unable to locate any pictures of  the process. I'll just have to tell you about it instead.

 Jeff and his friend Josh had once had the idea that they could dig the footers to this house by hand. They soon discovered while it was possible, it was probably not time well spent. After the sale of the house we hired a friend to dig the footers and a 12 x 12 storm shelter and root cellar combination.
 During this time we rented a trailer just up the road. When the block work was finished, the framing began. Framing on a house built from the ground up is very encouraging! It goes up fast and suddenly a house is standing where there was nothing before. In just a few days time the structure and the 'bones' of your dream are in front of you, finally visible and no longer just an image in your mind.

This really did go up fast as we had some extra help. Friends from the church we were attending came over and gave us a good old fashioned Amish style "barn raising". -The irony is, that a few of these men were actually former Amishmen.- In one weekend we had a two story house complete with walls and a roof.

 I remember, after everyone left Sunday evening, Tim and I stood in the upstairs of our new home. A ladder leaned in the opening where the stairs would one day go. There was the clean fresh smell of lumber and sawdust. We stood looking out the empty holes where windows would someday be. A cool breeze began to blow and slowly a soft rain started to fall and increase in volume. The acoustical sound of rain on a metal roof with no insulation or interior walls cannot be duplicated... or forgotten. We sat down on the floor and just listened for a long time. It was a quiet peaceful moment.

Over the next several weeks Tim installed windows, plumbing and all the pipes and such that make a house flow with water in and out. We hung some insulation, what we had. Installed a woodstove, a huge Ashley that ate mounds of firewood. In a two story house with not much insulation it is chilling how fast the heat can run away and disappear seemingly into thin air. As fast as we shoveled it in only a small area surrounding the stove was very warm. Now, this was fine, as we worked there finishing up what we could. Work a while, go get warm, a nice rhythm develops.

However, the finances were getting tight. The amount we had made from the sale of the farmhouse had come to an end. It had gotten us this far. Tim was putting in a lot of time on the house, so the income was lower and in our business January and February are slow and troublesome months. Rent was costing us precious money we wanted to invest in materials for the house. So, one cold February day, we simply moved in.



It was really cold outside. Below zero. In a two story house with very little insulation those temperatures can be really tough to deal with. Our floor design was open on the first floor so the heat flowed somewhat well. I don't want to paint the picture better than it was. It was cold. We closed the upstairs opening off as we didn't have stairs yet anyway. I had remembered my mother stapling huge sheets of cardboard to the walls of an unfinished house we were living in growing up so I followed her example. Yes, I've lived this scenario before.- A word to the wise, don't marry a carpenter/ adventurous type. They are convinced that their families are much tougher and more capable than everyone else. At least this has been my experience. I can smile about it now, but at the time I had some serious issues with being cold.-

The week we moved not only was it below zero, I had contracted a terrible case of the flu. I was miserable. Along with it all, I had feelings of great dislike toward my husband. -yes, I've since gotten over it-  I survived the cold air, by sleeping in the recliner chair, next to the stove and filling it every hour. This became my job and still is. It seemed that  the rest of the adults in the house never felt the temperature change when the fire would start to die down. I did. I knew exactly when it was time to add wood without ever opening the stove door. We dressed in layers during the day and around the stove it really wasn't too bad. Chilly, cold even, but doable. I love, how I can say that in past tense now! These are still not fond memories, but it wouldn't be a true story if I left this part out.




Spring is slow in coming when you are counting on it the most! It does finally show up though and all the winter blues fade into the background, with the explosion that is spring in the Southern Appalachians. Green is bursting into life everywhere. It just pops free, as if it's been holding back for weeks, just waiting for that unseen sign that seems to say "its time!" Rather melodramatic I know, but you see, winter and I just have not made our peace. I keep thinking this year, "I'll be friends with it and accept it as just another wonderful season" and every year just before those first warm days arrive, I feel as if I have 'fought a huge battle' and come out battered and bruised. But, a winner none the less.

Spring did finally arrive and with it a whole new problem. Mud. Red clay. This is serious stuff and not to be taken lightly. I wonder if it couldn't actually suck you in to the point of needing some forceful leverage to remove you from the 'miry pit' you find your self in. It gives a new meaning to the bible verse....He brought me out of the miry clay....there is also a hymn with those same words and I will never again be able to sing it without thinking of the sticky, goopy, even dangerous red clay that now surrounded our house. There wasn't a blade of grass left in the "yard".  After all the digging of footers, septic system and water lines that had gone on the previous fall. We were simply trapped in a sea of red. It tracked in and I was sweeping and mopping it up all the time. It stained the unfinished  flooring an orange color. I think I may have actually shed a few tears of frustration over it. It became easier to deal with, as spring was finally here. Life was good. We would keep advancing, keep building, keep improving, moving forward towards the goal we had set in our sights.

Isn't that what you do in life? It's easy for me to look back and see how far we've come. To have a better perspective than I did when I was right in the middle of it. Which is why I've deliberately chosen to write realistically about this time in our lives. It was hard and those who write about these things without this aspect are simply not quite being honest. We all have trials in life. Jesus, himself said : "In this world you will have tribulation." And we do indeed.



























We also have great joy and  He has given us so much to live for. Family and friends top the list. We all have those  moments in time when we see something so beautiful that is takes our breath away. These things are there, if we choose to look for them. For years, I closed my eyes to these things and hid in my disappointment with my life. It was by choice, that I finally decided to see, hear and smell the goodness that surrounded me. Moments like sitting in the upstairs of our empty house with a fresh cool breeze blowing, listening to the sound of rain on a tin roof, with the man of my life. Words are unnecessary at these moments, just a silent whispered prayer of pure gratitude  and a request to somehow 'never let me forget this'.... If we could just find a way to live in those moments.



Tuesday, September 11, 2012

The riches of a simple life

An old gate Tim built for Jayme's horse pasture. The field is growing up and the gate is leaning more and more, but I still love his gate.     


Today as I was driving down the road I glanced into a field that was full of wildflowers. I was thinking of each species and naming them in my mind; Iron weed, Joe Pye weed, Mist Flower, Goldenrod. I then glanced at the forest behind the  field and began to name the trees which grew there; Maple, Oak, Hickory, Tulip Poplar, Sycammore and as I was doing this I felt a great sense of satisfaction. I knew the plants around me, a few short years ago I couldn't do that. I remembered when we had first moved to this part of the country it was a desire of mine to be able to identify the trees and plants here. I realized that I was accomplishing that. I felt almost a sense of being wealthy. That seemed like an odd thing and I wondered why I felt it.

It came to my mind of being a young child again. My father and mother both loved the outdoors  and the country lifestyle. Riches and fame were not for them. Just the simple life. They would often take us on rides into the woods and we would pick berries or just enjoy the scenery.
I remember that my father could tell the difference between each of the many pine trees that blanketed the mountains in Montana. He knew which mushrooms were edible, which berries were good to eat and when it was time to pick them. My parents had their favorite berry picking patches and went back year after year. My father was a hunter and fed their family of six on much wild game over the years. My mother always had a flock of chickens that provided us eggs and meat. She was a faithful shepherd to a small herd of goats that provided delicious, healthful milk. They raised pigs some years, as well as, a steer or two.
They grew large gardens and canned hundreds of jars filled with the bounty. I can still picture the rows and rows of them filled with colorful vegetables and fruits.
I can almost taste the elderberry and chokecherry syrup that was used for our 'made from scratch' sourdough pancakes.   I remember for a while mom had a crock filled with a sourdough starter she had bought. She "fed" it often and it would bubble up and threaten to overflow. Oh, but it produced many steaming pancakes.
I used to sit at the counter and watch her make bread I can still see the yeast as it dissolved in the warm water and oil in her large bread bowl. She would stir in the flour and remaining ingredients and the smell of warm yeasty bread dough would fill my senses. Later on, the most delicious aroma of all would saturate the house, the smell of freshly baked bread. She would butter the tops and I can still see the melting liquid run down the sides. I get my love of baking bread from these vivid memories, I know that I do.

 As all these memories came back I realized why knowing the plants around me made me feel wealthy. The security of knowing that we could do the same as they had done. We had the ability and had done many of the same things over the years. To have a simple life and find our riches in God's nature and hard work. To live in a similar way as people have for many millennia. We had learned this and could do it again,  it is within our reach. These thoughts filled me with a deep satisfaction. I actually felt we possessed an 'immaterial'  type of wealth. A kind of 'ancient' knowledge of something that is slipping away from us.

I'm not sure what our future holds, but we would like to simplify our life and do some of those things we did when we were raising our children. Tim looks longingly at our neighbors tractor and says "I want to be a Larry when I grow up." (our farming/ Methodist Pastor next door. Tim wants to be the farmer part) I  know that he has always enjoyed our homesteading attempts. We shall see if this is what God has in mind for us. I know better than to make too many plans.....they always seem to change. Whatever happens, I do know that you can always simplify your life where ever you live. Turning the internet off once in a while is a good start and I have seen Urban gardens that put me to shame.

                                                         

Chicory a beautiful wildflower we have here. I just love the color. The perfect shade of blue




We are grateful for the country life we grew up with and raised our children in. Wouldn't trade it for anything.



Thank you mom and dad, for showing us this peaceful, simpler way of life, through living it yourselves.














~that you also aspire to lead a quiet life, to mind your own business, and to work with your own hands~ 1 Thessalonians 4:11