The Shepherd's Life, read from the Lakes

Our family philosophy is a reading philosophy and I love sharing all the books. In lieu of this philosophy, I want to create a series of posts highlighting books that I would recommend to others because EVERYONE needs good literature. #roseandtoastreads

Over the summer, I was blessed with the opportunity to travel to the UK for my granddad's 90th birthday. My whole little external family on his side, would be there for this reunion and it just so happened to be held in the land of my birth. The exact land of my birth,  just a few miles from my old coach house in Lake District. Yes, yes, you should be jealous that I was born in this breathtakingly beautiful country and you should be equally jealous that I got to spend a whole week there this summer; though it is I who is jealous of all the people who get to live there full-time - Like James Rebanks, author of the book The Shepherd's Life: Modern Dispatches from an Ancient Landscape (ps follow him on instagram for all the herdy picts you'll ever need, @herdyshepherd1).

When I was six or seven, I proudly exclaimed from the back seat of Betty Margaret (our little red BMW), that I would be a farmer when I grew up. This occurred while we were paused behind a herd of sheep crossing from one side of the road to the other so I'm sure the accuracy of the statement was fleeting at best. I knew no farmers. I had very little experience with livestock. And no land from which to raise my fleet of sheep and pack of dogs. However, as I grew, that tiny little stubborn girl kept saying, "wouldn't it be awesome to be a shepherd in the Lake District?" and now thanks to James Rebanks I want to quit my life and relocate.

His book is downright beautiful. Not only is it a testimony of the land and the profession, but it is a beautiful memoir of his family, his granddad and dad in particular. The book is divided into seasons, much like his life, and he weaves the history of his family with the history of his profession and his own personal journey providing insight and grit to a long-established, necessary and hardy way-of-life.

He begins with, "There is no beginning, and there is no end. The sun rises, and falls, each day, and the seasons come and go. The days, months, and years alternate through sunshine, rain, hail, wind, snow, and frost. The leaves fall each autumn and burst forth again each spring. The earth spins through the vastness of space. The grass comes and goes with the warmth of the sun. The farms and the flocks endure, bigger than the life of a single person. We are born, live our working lives, and die, passing like the oak leaves that blow across our land in the winter. We are each tiny parts of something enduring, something that feels solid, real, and true." Each aspect of life is connected - the physical changing of the seasons, the routine of managing the sheep, the daily humdrum, and the life well-lived.

Throughout the book, Rebanks moves seamlessly between the past, present, and future within each seasonal section. He explains how his granddad did the job, how he and his dad do the job, and how his children will likely do the job - in the exact same way as the vikings who brought the sheep thousands of years ago. This is no one-time offer of a profession, this is a lifestyle in an era when "lifestyle" has become a catch-phrase, a buzzword, lauding the busy-ness of so many people without actually accomplishing much in the way of living. James and his family are busy folk, but not unnecessarily so. They do what needs done, when it needs doing. Another aspect of life handed down from generation to generation.

I find it particularly interesting that the title is THE Shepherd's Life, instead of "A." Yes, he was alluding to another book of the same name; however, I think it is worth noting that this life is not unique to Rebanks and his family. Quite the contrary. This way of life is lived by hundreds of others around the globe; the ordinary folk who do the necessary jobs. The average Joe who is always so much more than average. Often, he points out the irony of our modern education and way of life, with examples like, "My father can hardly spell common words but has an encyclopedic knowledge of landscape. I think it makes a mockery of the conventional idea of who is and isn't intelligent;" and "modern life is rubbish for so many people. How few choices it gives them. How it lays out in front of them a future that bores most of them so much they can't wait to get smashed [drunk] out of their heads each weekend. How little most people are believed in, and how much it asks of so many people for so little in return." Rebanks describes the community, the camaraderie, and the education required to sustain a life on the land. A life that is filled to the brim of every emotion, including the bad ones, which are necessary to living a full, un-secluded life.

The lives we lead are not led in isolation. There's a meme-y, tumblr-y thing or something similar that's floating around the internet that tells the story of a man who has died and meets God. During this meeting, he, the dead man, is told that he will live again as another person, and that ultimately all the people in all the world that ever lived was this one person. Though religiously I cannot believe this story to be true, I believe it contains elements of truth. And it claims a point that Rebanks reinforces, that is our stories are entwined, "we are, I guess, all of us, built out of stories." Our stories connect us - to our landscape, to our jobs, to our community, and to our people

I could never end this discussion better than he did so I would like to share one last block quote from this tremendous and lovely book: "Working up these mountains is as good as it gets, at least as long as you are not freezing or sodden (though even then you feel alive in ways that I don't in modern life behind glass). There is a thrill in the timelessness up there; I have always like the feeling of carrying on something bigger than me, something that stretches back through other hands and other eyes into the depths of time. To work there is a humbling thing, the opposite of conquering a mountain if you like; it liberates you from any illusion of self-importance."

Wind Caves

A few weeks ago, when Spring began to show it's gorgeous head, we traveled into the canyon for a family hike. It was still sweatshirt weather and snow capped the tippy tops of the mountains, but it was deliriously wonderful to get outside and breathe the fresh air before the snow fell upon us again.

Wookie climbed almost the entire way up on her own. It was a 2 mile hike (one way), with an elevation gain of 980 feet, no small feet for toddler legs (or adult legs for that matter). Initially, the trail ran alongside the road with a spectacular drop off that set fear into my mother's heart, but shortly veered into the mountain creating multiple switchbacks, a few of which were slick with oozy mud shadowed by the mountain. Once we reached the caves we learned first hand how they received their name as the wind was enough to rock us just a bit. The beginning photo shows the twin caves. The views were amazing: the river snaked it's way through the canyon, carving a path between the mountains; the sky was blue, the clouds were fluffy, and the breeze refreshed our spirits. 

When through the woods and forest glades I wander / I hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees; / When I look down from lofty mountain grandeur and hear the brook and feel the gentle breeze / Then sings my soul

- How Great Thou Art

Confession

In the last four weeks, I have picked up my crochet hook exactly once. The sewing machine hasn't been turned on, and the fabric for my husband's quilt lies carefully folded in my craft box waiting for me to have enough time (and energy) to pull it out and begin embroidery work again. Sharp needles and infants don't exactly mix well, and currently I'd much rather snuggle the infant.

What have I been up to then? 

Snuggling baby boy, teaching the oldest her lessons, washing dishes, cleaning dirt off floors and faces, building a railroad with the rascals, reading countless renditions of "We're going on a bear hunt," gathering various sticks and pinecones, listening to loud renditions of cops and robbers, dreaming aloud with my husband, folding laundry, picking up toys, remembering College Algebra (no easy task), changing umpteen diapers, sweeping the kitchen, drinking in our early spring, and cherishing this most precious time.

Please bear with me as I reevaluate (yet again) what this space is to be used for. My intention is still to craft though with four children under eight it won't be as often as originally planned. Perhaps delving into my real, messy, haphazard, wonderful life is better suited to the current situation. 

Woolly Cowl

Over the summer at our local farmer's market, a family owned and operated sheep farm sold a skein of natural wool (and a 2 lb shoulder roast consumed for Christmas) to an ever-growing family. With some slight manipulation that skein of yarn turned into a warm, woolly cowl.

Without following a particular pattern, I really just eye-balled the size, measured against my own neck, until it seemed like the right fit. I worked double crochets in the round for 9 rows. No television show to gage a time frame, just me and my oldest hooking along in bed during a lazy Saturday afternoon.

St. Lucia's

Several generations ago, Husband's family immigrated from Sweden. We are lucky enough to have his fourth Great-grandfather's autobiography/journal that details his trip from the family farm in Sweden to his schooling in Denmark and then onto work in the United States. This year I wanted to focus more on traditions than presents and our Swedish family heritage seemed like a wonderful place to start.

The sentiment of St. Lucia's day is a magical one, filled with goodness, light, and charity, perfect for heralding in the joy of Christmas. Lucia (meaning light) was a Christian woman condemned to death for refusing a Pagan husband, before her martyrdom she also donated all her money to feed the poor, or so the legend says. In Scandinavian culture, St. Lucia's Day is celebrated on the 13th of December, the original Winter Solstice, with the oldest daughter dressing up as Lucia, in a white dress for purity, a red sash for martyrdom, an evergreen crown topped with candles. Typically, she rises before the rest of the family and serves bread and coffee.

We mixed it up a little to fit what we were actually capable of doing but still keeping to the tradition. The girls made paper crowns after the fashion of the evergreen wreath by gluing holly leaves and red berries to a construction paper band. They made star sugar cookies to deliver to our neighbors and sang carols instead of the usually Sanka Lucia hymn, which I'm hoping to learn for next year. For dinner, we ate the traditional Julbord with roast beef, cheese, bread and butter, pickles, and the left over sugar cookies, which aren't exactly traditional but they are delicious.

GREAT grandma

Husband's Grandma passed away last week. It was not at all expected and quite sudden, we had just seen her on Thanksgiving and talked to her a few days before she was taken to the hospital. She was eighty-three and ready to go, but she will be dearly missed by us all.

This feisty "polar bear" (as she endearingly called herself to my kiddos) is the reason I started getting into crafts in the first place. She is the reason I know how to hem and patch pants. She is the reason I became even remotely interested in quilting and later crochet, which then led to embroidery and cross-stitch. All because this amazing woman shared her talent and her time.

For our wedding (actually a few months after, but that's entirely different story for an entirely different day), she gave us our amazing quilt. It is by far my most prized material possession and it has literally traveled over oceans with us. I don't think it has ever left our bed, except when one (or more) of us is sick, then it lives on the couch with us. The colors magically work and it is such the perfect combination of Husband and I with plaid flannel mixed with roses.

The last time we saw her I was terrified that my kids would destroy her living room. She told me in her very matter-of-fact, no-nonsense way, "If a house is not fit for kids, it's not fit for much." I am so grateful that she took the time to make this treasure for us and am even more grateful now for the knowledge, love and wisdom she shared.

Ordinary Day

Normal day! Holding it in my hand this one moment, i have come to see it as more than an ordinary rock. it is a gem, a jewel...normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. let me learn from you, love you, savor you, bless you before you depart. let me not pass you by in a quest for some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it will not always be so. One day i shall...want more than all the world your return. And then i will know what I now am guessing: that you are, indeed, a common rock, and not a jewel, but that a common rock made of the very mass substance of the earth in all its strength and plenty puts a gem to shame. 
-Mary Jean Irion

I couldn't sleep last night. I lay down twice but to no avail. The brain would not stop racing. Got up to write down the thoughts that plagued my little computer brain in hopes that having them on paper would soften their voices and allow me to sleep. It worked, sort of.

These days, though filled with Christmas festivities and preparations for festivities including visitors, are still ordinary days. Part of why my mind is racing so much is because of the run up for the new year. I love making resolutions, goals, and planning projects. The idea of a "new me" thrills and excites me. 2015 could bring anything and I see this as the year that I can do any and all the things. However, in my old age (ha!), I'm coming to the realization that I am what I am.

Linda Eyre writes in her book, I didn't plan to be a witch, that children are seeds to be nourished, not clay to be molded. I am still a child, just an older one. Just because I have my own children does not mean that I cease to require nourishment; we all stand in need of nourishment. In order to fully comprehend where I need nourished, I need to find where I lack. This can only be found within the ordinary day. 

Mornings are not my friend, never have been, probably never will be, but this is where the ordinary day starts. Morning. Currently, it's cold and dark, even at 7:30 am, but that little fact does not deter children from waking up whenever they darn well please. Little man is pretty consistent at 6, such a morning lark which is hard for this night owl, and Wookie is not long after. Nins stumbles out whenever she hears parental movement and not a moment sooner (she's been trained well). Lately, sugar cereal has been the poison of choice, partly for convenience and partly because I'm just that lazy. My car pool gets me at 8:30 and the idea of leaving a sink full of dishes for husband to wash makes me feel like a horrible person so three bowls it is.

Then the daily 8 hour work day, 5 days a week. I enjoy my work mostly and think the people are pretty great, but it's a bit of a source of dissatisfaction. You see, I miss my children. (In my humble opinion) I should be home, raising, nurturing, and rearing each one of them. My husband does a fantastic job and truly is an AMAZING father. I cannot shout his praises loud enough, but we both would prefer a situation where our roles were reversed. In our current state, it doesn't seem possible (though I remind myself daily that through God all things are possible AND for those who remember the Brandy version of Cinderella Whitney Houston sings the "Impossible" song, Youtube it, you'll be glad you did). Impossible things happen every day. Every ordinary day.

In my restlessness, I wrote: I cannot wait around for "someday"... someday when my babies are older, someday when they are not whining, someday when we are rich, someday when I'm not working, someday when I'm not pregnant, someday when the weather is nice...because "someday" will NEVER come. Someday must become TOday. Not at the expense of shirking responsibilities, bills need paid and children need fed, but who's stopping us from hiking? camping? (things on my husband's "living list") eating pancakes for breakfast? following our dreams? ME! I am. By pushing things off to "someday," I am responsible for not creating those memories or the unfulfillment (made up word) of my own dreams. Denzel Washington said that "Dreams without goals remain dreams, just dreams, and ultimately fuel disappointment." Achieving goals requires discipline and consistency, two traits I sorely lack.

I don't want my dreams to remain dreams. My marriage and each of my children are dreams come true. They are my greatest blessings, which is easy to forget because they require a lot of work each and every single day. It is my hope to cease my quest for a perfect tomorrow, for the quintessential someday, and revel in the gift that today brings while still actively striving toward my goals and dreams. One ordinary day at a time.

50 State Stitching quilt top

A little while ago, I mentioned (I think I mentioned) that I am working on an embroidery/quilt project. The project is through Wild Olive and if you're interested I think that you can still sign up. You'll be a bit behind, but heck, I am too, so really it's just joining the party!

It's such a fun project and includes hand stitching and English Paper Piecing (EPP), two techniques I'm still pretty new to. Every Tuesday, I get a new state in my email. Mollie (from Wild Olive) is so creative and takes her task of choosing themes very seriously and writes the greatest letters to commemorate each state. My favorite star so far is the Virginia ham (and if you've ever seen The American President, you'll completely understand why).

At first, I was so good about completing each state the day I received it, Tuesday was my weekly stitching night and each star was completed by Wednesday, Thursday at the latest, and then....then I wasn't so good. I was going for a Civil War type theme with the fabric while keeping with the patriotic 50 states. I'm still catching up on the embroidery part BUT I finished the blocks and stripes today!

It's a terrible photograph because the light is wrong and the wind picked up and Little Man's shadow is clearly visible in the left corner but it's finished (sort of). The project is intended to last a while (next July to be precise) so keep an eye out for updates on the stars. 

And because I'm totally proud of this photo, I'm sharing it. Wookie's hair gets lighter every year and though it makes me sad my black haired babe is slowly morphing into a blondie, the highlights are truly spectacular.

Progress

Right now, I'm in the midst of several big projects and a few smaller projects that are meant for Christmas so sharing is off limits. Most work is getting done once kiddos are in bed, at that point the sun is long gone, and the heater is purring noisily. The sound of the sewing machine is soothing and the rhythm of my hooks comforting. There's a lot up in the air at the moment, but instead of getting anxious and crazy, as I have a tendency to do, I'm focusing on this season. This wonderful, magical, spiritual season.

I love that Thanksgiving feeds right into Christmas that feeds into the (shiny) new year, and I'm working diligently to remember all the things I am grateful for and all the things I need to work on. We constructed our Thankful tree over the course of November and it continues to hang in the kitchen near the table, serving as a reminder for all the things, temporal and spiritual, we have as we tuck in to our daily meals. Over the years, I've taken the whole resolutions making ritual quite seriously, but I'm thinking of changing things up a bit.

My hope is to have several finished projects to share in the coming weeks, though I can't make any promises. I'm also considering adding a more different venture, still along the same vein, for 2015. There are several things I'd like to leave in 2014 and several more I'd like to pick up in the new year and this would be the place to add and share.

Daisy meadow blanket

I miraculously finished this blanket Thursday evening and spent all weekend waiting for the sun to shine so I could snap some photos. The sun did shine amid the snow and I took full advantage.

What a work in progress. Daisy began in March as a sort of in-between project, with forty-nine mustard circles, turned daisies, turned squares (in Sea Mist from Lion Brand), that then increased in September to number sixty-four to form more of a lap blanket than a baby blanket. My inspiration came from here but I wanted a more neutral, meadow-like color combination.

Internal debate ensued on how to join but was settled with a standard raised single stitch. The border consists of a row of double crochet (in Dusty) and two rows of half-double crochet (in the Dusty and the Taupe). Again, debate about whether to finish with a single stitch of the mustard, a color I quite like, but decided against. I'll use that color more prominently for another project.

It snowed two weeks ago and only just began to melt this weekend, it was that cold and then it snowed again on top of the frozen snow. Super fun stuff. At church on Sunday, poor little man's hands were beet red from a short, block-and-a-bit walk to the building and when feeling started to return to those extremities, he was not a happy person. The bushes along the drive have kept a nice patch of ice rink for the kids to enjoy, though I'm terrified one of them will conk their head. After plenty of snow play, we have been sipping on Husband's homemade hot chocolate and warming chili to keep us cosy. Now that this blanket is finished, we can add it to our extra snuggly pile and watch what's left of college football and move on to college basketball.

Swans and Swallows: A Comedy

I have been working away at various projects and when they are completed I'll share them here.

In the mean time, I've been keeping busy promoting a book written by my husband and his brother. It's entitled Swans and Swallows: A Comedy. It's a satire all about the main character, Gregory Nightingale.

Here's the blurb from Amazon: Gregory Nightingale is a revered author, known as much for his rambling, post-modern philosophies as his ability to create relatable stories. Eccentric, apathetic, and in love with both alcohol and sensation, Gregory unwittingly becomes an active participant in efforts to tear down his reputation. Can he contain his antics long enough to clear his name? 
With a cast of witty, realistic characters, Swans and Swallows: a comedy, hilariously explores the complexities of human nature, and modern relationships. It is a must-read for anyone who likes to laugh.

It is currently only available for order at Amazon (dot) com in ebook format, but if you ask me it is well worth the $3 they are asking for. We found out today that it made the Amazon New Release hot list and jumped to #53 in their genre. I am so proud of all the hard work they both have put into this novel. May this be the first of many. 

You can find the book HERE

Happy Halloween