Dear Squirmy one-

It's rather warm out for November, a balmy 52 degrees-- the rain started pouring down a few hours ago.  As usual my thoughts are on you little squirmy baby inside of me.
It's very hard for me to believe that I have made it 40 weeks, that any day now you could make your appearance and this amount of love that I has built up every minute I can finally express to you on the outside.
Every second that I have been scared about your well being---which has been since I found out I was pregnant with you will all be worth it.  Every tear I cried, every time I layed my hand on my stomach to figure out where you were, every frustration of wondering if we would ever make it this far will all be over soon and I can finally have you in my arms.
I have had such a hard time letting myself believe that everything will work out and I will see you so very soon and you will be here with me.  It's like I wouldn't let myself believe that I would be the receiver of such an amazing gift from God.  My worry and love for you extends far beyond anything I have ever felt, and frankly it scares me to death.  I would and will give up everything to have you be a healthy, happy, being.  I promise to love you with every ounce of myself.
So as I sit here in these final few days of it just being me and your Dad---my brain and heart is somewhere else---I feel like I already know you.  I feel like I see our lives together and I am so ready for them to start that my heart is going to burst out of my chest.  Has anyone ever wanted someone as bad as i want you?  Does every mother feel like this?  I hope so.
Anyway dear squirmy one---I hope you make your appearance into this world soon as I am restless, and stuck in this in between spot of my old self and being a mother.  I can't wait to meet you.  I can't wait to kiss your face and count your fingers and be exhausted and tired for every good reason.  I can't wait to see your Dad's face when he meets you.  Ive been picturing you for so long.  Please come out little one.  I am so ready for you to be here.

Who thought I would be this torn up over losing a chicken?

It only takes one night out of 500 nights for something to happen when you are a chicken owner.  Of all the worry, and thought, and constant nagging I have had for the chickens to be locked safely in each evening....last night I blew it.
Ellery and I were both exhausted, and even in the final moments before sleep, I didn't even have my final are the chickens okay worry.  So when Ellery went out at 9:30pm before bed with the Dog and heard a noise coming from the Coop...he knew it was no good.

He made it over there just to see something dragging one of our chickens into the woods.  The chicken escaped---but was tragically injured.  Ellery watched it die right in front of him.
2 other chickens were missing.  Of course my favorite chickens: Benedict, and Little Red.

Benedict has been my favorite from the beginning, very independent and a beautiful Araucana that lays blue eggs.  She would always do her own thing---and she had a taste for leftover pie dough.  She was my smartest chicken (or so I thought), so I never thought she would be the first to go.

Little Red is the sweetest chicken I have ever known, and I didn't know chickens could be sweet.  She often wants to be patted or even held.  And she has this weird squat thing she does when she comes over to you......

Well after hysterically crying when Ellery told me about the chickens, sure enough it was those two that were taken, plus the black one he saw die.  I was/still am so upset.  I walked around the whole yard at 5am yelling for them.  When I had given up hope and was inside---Ellery yelled for me to look across the road (a very busy road).  There was Little Red---drenched and scared.  I ran over in my pajamas and managed to coax her after while with some Ricotta Cheese.  The fact that she escaped from the predator, and then managed to run across the road and survive all night is amazing!  She is such a brave chicken, and I am so so so grateful that she made it home alive!

Sad news for Benedict though.  I thought for sure he would come home---but today with the help of my carpenters dog I found him and his feathers in the woods.  I mourn the loss of this bird.  And will sorely miss seeing him out in the yard and munching on pie dough.

I know that people think its silly to be attached to chickens, but some chickens just have such unique and awesome personalities....Not to mention I have raised these chickens since they were three days old and love them like pets.  I know I shouldn't get so attached because they are essentially livestock.  But they provide such a great happiness to see them out in the fields eating grass or digging up worms.

So RIP Benedict, and Meringue the Chicken.  Thanks for all the beautiful eggs, and thanks for providing me with happiness by just being a creature of God.

We hope to catch the creature that did this, although its really not their fault that we were careless and forgot to lock the hens up on time.  Still it would make me feel better if it was caught.

The Great Easter Egg Hunt

The Great Easter Egg Hunt

When my sister and I were younger and my grandparents were still around we would all gather at their house and have a gigantic Easter egg hunt with all of our cousins.  The whole family would be watching as we would shove and grab and try to get as many eggs as possible, all filled with candy or prizes.  After we would gorge on Easter lunch with deviled eggs, ham, and of course my Nanny's famous Bunny Cake.

After my grandparents passed, and how it often goes in many families when the Matriarch and Patriarch pass on---the family started to separate off and do their own thing---which is too bad really and we all do think fondly back on those days.

However out of this the greatest holiday tradition was born from my Dad.

He started an Easter Egg scavenger hunt for my sister and I.  In each egg there is a clue to the next egg until the very end where you get a prize (it use to be candy, now its $ and scratch tickets).  When we were younger---say early teens he would hide them just around our house.  But in the last 4 or 5 years  he has really gotten crazy and we now find ourselves driving all over the town of Friendship.

There is always the normal stops along the way: a visit to our grandparents graves where we leave two eggs, a trip down to THE KAPPS on Martin Point road to fetch an egg off their property.  I have to say my favorite ones are always down at the Wharf, or at an old family spot that only our family would know about.   Sometimes he gets people involved and we have to go talk to Ernie down at Wallace's Market and ask for the egg, or go say hello to our Aunt.  We always bring our cellphones and end up giving a call if we don't understand a clue---like I have no idea where North west is in relation to a tree on our property, or which cooler in the bait shed down at the wharf the egg might be hiding in.

We get some very strange looks because we are 25 and 28 year old girls searching for eggs in Friendship, but we are def. Not ashamed, in fact I think we are the luckiest daughters alive.  And my dad really gets a kick out of getting us out of our comfort zone and having to go fetch an egg from someone's chicken coop for example, at the same time I find myself rediscovering how beautiful the town I grew up in is, and how connected I am to so many places in it.  I feel so happy after this easter hunt for having all these happy memories associated with my childhood.

I hope this tradition never ends---someday I picture Ash and my kid's searching for eggs down at my parents house—and thinking how incredibly lucky they are to have such cool grandparents to spoil them.

Spring Dreaming

Bring me some green grass. Let it be a shock to my system. Let me run out and feel it with my bare feet and back. Let the flowers pop up slowly around me with their shades of spring—fantastic yellows and purples and pinks.

Let me walk outside with a long sleeve shirt on and not freeze to death. Let the chickens be happy to run around their little yard and pick at non frozen ground.

Let me start my seedlings in tiny pots and rake up the garden and add some dirt to it. Let me feel the dirt in my hands.

Allow me to take a long walk with out thinking of snow, sleet, ice, frostbite or windchill. Without five layers of clothes, 2 pairs of socks and Muckboots. Let Tess dog roll around in the field by the water.

Allow me to stare at the ocean and allow thoughts to creep into my head about future swimming in spotted blue bathing suits. Drying off on a rock.

Let me think of fresh vegetables---do you remember those? Greens, tomatoes, basil.. A Pie with fresh picked berries. The smell of grilling, and a cold summer ale.

Let me recall my porch sitting days. You and me on a bench in the morning staring out at Corey's Cove with a cup of coffee in our hands. Quiet and still, and in our pajamas--- reading a paper from a few weeks ago.

Let me dream of boat rides to islands with picnic lunches. Lobster boats and watching you sail. A long novel on the beach, and kids making sand castles.

Allow me this in the depth of winter. When the windchill is -8 and there is 12 inches of snow on the ground. Allow me my dreams of spring and fantasies of summer. Its all that's getting me through.

Winter I hate you.

I can appreciate a snowy day....walking through the woods in snowshoes peering up at the trees all sparkly and white.
Today is 2 degrees.  My mind can't make sense of this....2 degrees is that even possible?  -15 windchill---is that real?

Yeah sure the walk is pretty---the ice chunks in the water---frozen harbor with sea smoke.
But really FU sea smoke.  FU ice chunks.  I would rather be swimming in you after laying on the beach soaking up the rays.
I would rather get my Vitamin D from the sun then in tablet form or sitting under some expensive Mood light-bulb.
I would love to be sitting outside with a beer in hand on the green grass at 7pm.
Not curled up, or rather sitting on top of the woodstove---procrastinating going out to fetch more wood.  Afraid my hands might fall off.... remember when I walked outside in my shorts and tank top...barefoot???  If I did this now I would stick to the ground.  I would cry without even knowing from the cold.   My nostrils frozen....no one should ever have to have frozen nostrils.

FU winter. 
Thank you for keeping me inside with the chocolate treats.....instead of walking by the seashore.  Thanks for the winter weight!  Remember when I was tan?  Its hard to believe looking down at my ghastly white skin...dry.  But I mean there's fun things like nosebleeds from it being so dry out...and everyone loves falling on ice...cause the ground is so soft this time of year of course.  And the flu----a perfect excuse to watch movies in between the chills and hot flashes.

Someone told me that the halfway point of winter is in ten days.  I almost punched them.  It's not the halfway point yet?  Well pour me another hot toddy.  Or can I just hibernate?  Seems like that would make things a lot easier.   Wake me up when I don't have to wear long johns, a sweater, a puff vest and jacket---along with gloves, hat, and scarf and muck boots. Let me know when I won't die from a 10 minute walk outside.  When it doesn't feel like I am being kicked in the face by the cold.

Wake me up when there is color---flowers, and green grass.  I am done with white, dirty white, grays and black.  Wake me up when I can stop eating freaking squash and root vegetables.  When I can pick up green leafy wonderful veggies at the farmers markets, instead of paying 5$ for Kale from halfway across the USA. I am so sick of soup and  I think I forgot what a tomato tastes like.....

Okay I am done with my rant.  I just miss you warm weather...and I am very close to overdosing on vitamin D and emergen-c packets. I Love you Maine, but please bring spring soon....or at least 30 degree weather. 

Transporting Field

And it went like this........

I was lying low, but not to low. Sort of peaking up from the long grass that I was in---in the middle of the faded yellow/green field. I had transported myself there in my head when things were bad. When all I could see was colors of rage-- colors of blue and red -dark and flashing and changing and mean.

When everything I was saying was in spits and bursts and between tears and rolling off my snarling mean tongue like an angry snake... When I was completely unreasonable and had finally given up I transported myself to this field.

I sit up and I take it in---there’s a large dark brown barn way off in the corner-----and if I walk a mile or so down the field it leads me to a small beach with icy blue water...scattered driftwood and shells and former remnants of sea life. Ill get there eventually...... for now I lay in this field and I try not to think---but that's not really possible. So I take in the sun on my skin because even in the dead of winter this field is an early summer day. I photosynthesis because I can when I transport myself here. I can do whatever I want. So I do and I dream of my husband and I walking hand in hand near water or in the woods---I think of his smile and his laugh and his ability to love fully. And this is all part of my healing in this field---reminders of why I live.

I am suddenly swooped up by the colors of the wind---yellows and purples carry me down the road to the shore. On the rocks there is a tray with bread and honey and a wheat beer. I knew myself so well that I dreamed my favorite things up for my arrival. I sit munching and sipping----breathing in the salt air....thinking of my dad on the lobster boat, and his talking between strings of traps. Thinking of deep green traps and brown lobsters...thinking of how I lucked out in childhood- with him and my mom and sister. I lucked out.

I realize I want a swim--- I walk across the beach full of sand and shells and my feet don't even hurt. Because when I transported myself to this spot—i gave myself feet with thick soles. I put on my favorite version of my body---tan and strong, and freckles.

I strip down and I walk slowly into the water.... I am still fascinated how the water is clear when it appears so blue....I decide it would be nice if it was filled with phosphorescence instead. So just like that its night, and the dinoflagellates appear and I swirl and my body is outlined with tiny yellow stars....tiny yellow fireworks that look like stars.... I swim and I look behind me at the trail I leave---slowly fading. I swim and I swim until I wear myself out and decide to let the phosphorescence rest.

I am happily tired- and I think of all the memories of night swimming with my sister and friends in the past. Another memory I love.

I look up and lucky me...no smart me(look I built up my confidence too). I create a small cabin overlooking the shore on the hill. I go in and the fire is already going for me. Of course there is rocking chair with cushions and a robe and slippers for my feet. Cocoa and a cookie for later. I rock and rock and stare at the fire. I am almost back to my normal non-raging self. Almost. What is missing---oh I know......

I transport myself back to reality. In reality I am curled up next to my husband. In my non-cabin on the non-hill and there is no ocean here. But I missed it. I missed the comfort of my non-perfect home with my animals near the fire....Reading by the fire.

Really I just needed a break....I am lucky I have this power.

A winter morning's hour

In the soft glow of the morning sunrise I felt content.

I trudged through the crunchy grass on this mid-December day to take care of the animals....the chickens feathers all frosty from the cold night....released from their coop they take off in flight to stretch their wings....

Returning to the house with my black lab bounding in great morning happy leaps...in anticipation of a walk in the next few hours.

Brewing my morning coffee with a frothy top with crunchy sugar squares...throw some toast in the oven and check out what's going on in the world outside of my world.

It's a perfect hour...and I wish all hours could be like this...relaxed with great hope for the day.