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1. repotting plants is therapy {for me and for the plants}
2. playing in the water {and the chance to use two paddleboards} making a summer morning extra summery
3. tiny fridges worked just fine for seven months
4. the big fridge {room for more fruit and veggies and milks and orange juice} and all our magnets {trips down memory lane}
5. this fruit and these flowers {one more time, because i love how the light played over them one sunny morning in mid-august}
Late Summer by CS Lewis
I, dusty and bedraggled as I am,
pestered with wasps and weeds and making jam,
blowzy and stale, my welcome long outstayed,
proved false in every promise that I made,
at my beginning I believed like you,
something would come of all my green and blue.
mortals remember, looking on the thing
I am, that I, even I was once a spring.
this is the part of summer when i start to feel worn down,
torn over wanting more days of summery weather, days for swimming and basking in the sun;
but also, wanting the hot spell to end, and the weather to be right for sweatshirt wearing and evening campfires and cups of coffee.
yes. this year, even i am longing for fall.
for fire season to be over.
at this point, fire season may be winding down, but then again, maybe not.
though the daylight is shorter and the air cooler, there is more dry vegetation, and a spark from equipment or lightning can still set a blaze.
at this point in august, for us whose lives revolve around fire season,
it feels as though summer and fire weather have long outstayed their welcome.
especially on a year like this one,
when my wildland firefighter was gone for teaching and taking classes soon after the new year,
and off on southwestern details (16 days at a time) in march and april and june.
i am able, through most of the season, to keep an optimistic outlook,
to keep things going at home,
to keep a connection over time and distance with my love.
and then, it's august.
dirty august.
dirty, dirty august.
and i hit a wall more days than not.
and i want nothing more than to have fall,
and to have my man home for more than one stolen night here and there,
more than one day crammed full of all of the appointments
and face-to-face talking
and laundry
and shopping for food and supplies for him to take back to the station
and tackling the quick project that i can't do alone.
the other day it just all felt like too, too much.
so i got out my calendar and looked, really looked
at how many days ben has been home . . . since march . . .
no wonder i feel all off-balance and strange.
the official count, today, august 19,
is that ben has been home 37 out of 174 days.
and i just simply want him home with me.
i'm beyond stuffing the longing back down.
there's a poignant turning point of no going back.
i am certain that we've reached it,
suddenly,
with the counting of days,
with a bit of rain and high humidity recoveries overnight,
grey skies,
and cool, cool breezes.
there is a foglike smoke in the air the past few days,
so even if the sun would wish to shine bright and hot,
it is smothered by this blanket that blows in from the west.
and this matches my melancholy.
i start to wonder how many times ben and i can say "i love you" and "i miss you" . . .
and will those words ever run out of meaning?
or do they mean more and more every time we say them?
i don't even know where to start or end telling him
that he has taken over all of my heart,
how everything that i do and say and think and feel is permeated by him,
by who i am because he is part of me,
part of my life,
he has been for so long . . .
eighteen of my thirty-eight years . . .
and i am lost here in august,
because parts of me are away with him,
and it is not nearly often enough that we are together,
that i am together,
that all of our pieces are in one place.
we were at my mom and dad's house in early july. i was cleaning up the kitchen one of the last evenings we were there, and i picked up this scrap of paper. on it are written little meal plans for the time the kids and i were able to spend with them. i almost threw it away, and then i didn't. i stuffed it in my pocket instead. and now it is in my journal as a reminder of my mom's handwriting, her thoughtfulness, her list-making, her personality, and her love.
over seventeen years ago, ben asked me to marry him and he put a diamond on my finger. at our wedding on November 10, 2001, we exchanged very traditional wedding bands.
just before our ninth wedding anniversary, we realized that if we sold our platinum wedding bands, we could buy all of the camping gear we wanted. so, we did. and we bought ninety-nine dollar black ceramic bands to wear instead. just simple.
then we took our kiddos camping on the shore of lake superior and in the north woods and in the southeastern minnesota river valleys. ben took me to yellowstone and to the tetons. and we took our kids on a twelve day road trip on which we did most of our sleeping and cooking out of the back of the pick up. we've camped in campgrounds and on the shore of a reservoir. we have used that camping gear so much and will continue to use it, over and again. experiences over things, right?
over the years i thought off and on about having something made with the diamond from my engagement ring; maybe a pendant, something i could wear every day.
then, about a year ago, i discovered broken pine studio on instagram. and i began to follow shannon. and all of her work struck a chord with me. shortly after i found her account, she hosted a contest / give away, and i won a personalized key chain. the care she took with the keychain endeared her to me as a person, not just as an artist.
once i held a piece of shannon's work in my hands, i knew that i wanted her to do something with the diamond ben had given to me. i looked through her archives. i found some ideas. i had conversations back and forth with her. she invited me to send her my ring and some other stones i had. she asked to know more of ben's and my story.
this is what i wrote for her:
The first five years that Ben and I were together (6 months before we got married and then for the first four years of our marriage) we lived near Lake Superior. We brought both of our babies home up Highway 61 - right along the shore of the big lake. We spent countless hours walking and sitting, sipping coffee and picnicking, talking and listening, drinking in beauty. And I found pretty stones and beach glass and tiny agates.
Five years ago, when I was 33, Ben took me to the Tetons. I had never seen mountains before. That trip changed my life. The mountains, the huge, overarching sky, the clear air - all got into my veins and woke something beautiful and visceral inside of me.
Three years ago, we moved out of Minnesota. We moved west. To the Little Missouri on the eastern border of Montana. I spent countless hours resting, breathing, wandering, finding more stones and fossils and beauty by the river and up in the hills and buttes. Sometimes with Ben, sometimes with my kids, once in a while with a dear friend, and so often just me. I am so grateful that Ben moved me, moved us, west.
And certainly, the diamond that Ben put on my finger when he asked me to marry him must be in this ring. Because yes. And yes. And yes. Every day is yes.
I am leaning toward one of the shield rings - with a mountain, and my diamond in the sky. Then maybe one of the other pieces I sent you at the base of the mountains. Or maybe not? What do you think? I want you to do something that works. The other thing that fits me - always - is wildflowers. Ben knows I love wild places and wild flowers. The Tom Petty song, “you belong among the wildflowers; you belong somewhere you feel free” has long been my anthem. And, without knowing that, Ben told me that song reminded him of me. So, maybe some of your handcrafted flowers at the base of the mountain? The other bits I sent are from Lake Superior and the Little Missouri. I feel like those places are touchstones on Ben’s and my journey. But I want what you make to work, and to flow easily for you . . . It will be more beautiful if you don’t have to force something, this I know.
and shannon read my words, and mulled over what she has learned about ben and i over the past year as she and i have begun to grow a friendship, and she created a ring that tells the story of b+e. she used an agate from lake superior. she crafted some wildflowers and beautiful stems. she cut out the tetons. and she placed the diamond in a starry sky over the mountains.
when shannon told me she had the ring finished, and sent me the tracking number, i was so excited! each day the ring was in transit, i had numerous oh my goodness! i will get to wear it soon! moments. the day it arrived, i made myself sit and take my time with opening the box, and the brown paper wrapped items within.
shannon returned the extra stones and the setting from my diamond. she also included the most wonderful pair of earrings!
and then! the ring!
it is everything i had hoped for, and then some. it is perfect.
i absolutely love the weight of this ring. i love the design. each element tells part of the story of b+e.
and! the day it came, ben was in miles city! he was able to stop by the house, and put the ring on my finger.
he asked me if i would stay married to him until he dies.
yes. of course yes. always yes.
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and, if you've stuck with this all the way to the end, here are some pictures that shannon sent me before she mailed the ring, to show me what she had created :
dear friends,
have you ever had someone tell you that they appreciate you, or look up to you, or are proud of you at just the moment you didn't even know how much you needed to hear something encouraging? when you are tired and worn and feeling like the glass is certainly not half-full, and is, in fact, for this moment, empty. drained. dry. and then, out of the blue, there is a text, or a comment on facebook or instagram, or a message, or a piece of snail mail, telling you that there is someone out there who thinks you are wonderful. someone you inspire. someone who sees you walk through the good and the hard and who believes that you will come out of the hard again, and even well. and that empty glass? that dry, parched feeling? those words are cool, fresh water. and they flood in and over, around and through. and your heart is bolstered. and your mind is refreshed. and your glass is half-full, and full, and even overflowing. this has happened for me in the past few days. i have been refreshed by wonderful words from true friends. thank you. thank you. thank you.
and dear ones, never, ever underestimate the power of your kind words. if you think of something nice to say to someone, say it. you might get to know, or you might never get to know, how very much a kind and encouraging word, a smile, a hug, a tiny gift, a note meant to the person you gave to. if you appreciate someone, say so. if you love someone, tell them. if you are proud of someone, make sure they know it. you may be giving them exactly what they didn't even know they needed. and your kindness will never return void. what goes around always comes around. beauty and kindness feed beauty and kindness. ever and always. be part of the good stuff. and your cup will be added to, as well.
i am so very grateful for all of you dear ones who have crossed my path. i have so many blessings to count. so many.
continue to go gently, love fiercely, and be wonderful.
love, e
yes. you. you are. and you should. shine any way you know how. start with a smile. and go from there.
xoxo. go gently, love fiercely, and be wonderful.
today isaac and his friend were throwing a football in the living room. i yelled at them. i had just told them two days ago not to throw a smaller ball in the living room. i was so mad that they were throwing a full-sized football in there. and then i felt awful for yelling.
later this evening, the boys were playing catch in the road. in the road! the road that people fly down like they don’t care if they mow down anyone in their way. i was getting ready to call them in. and then - at the intersection i saw a car accelerating like crazy. i threw the door open and yell-screamed at them to “GET. OUT. OF. THE. ROAD!!!!” and they sort of argued with me - as they slowly came onto the sidewalk and the car flew by, followed by a truck and another truck and more cars ... i was so scared-angry. these 13- almost-14-year-old boys should know better!!! i was yelling and telling them that i don't want to scrape them up off the road.
after i talked it over with ben on the phone, i made cookies. then i brought cookies downstairs and told the boys they can’t let themselves get out of control or they will owe me pushups. ben said so. and i told them they get to wash and detail my car tomorrow since they were stupid about the road tonight. i told them have to listen to me and not wreck my house or their lives. and that they can eat cookies now. i said i love them, and i want them to be awesome humans.
sometimes, “i love you” looks like a mom who cares enough to get mad enough to yell, and sometimes, “i love you” looks like chocolate chip cookies.
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and just in case you need to make your own chocolate chip cookies, here is my recipe:
The Best Ever Chocolate Chip Cookies (by Elizabeth)
cream butter oil and sugars together. add eggs and vanilla, mix well. add the flours and soda, powder and gum, mix well. add coconut (or substitution) and chocolate chips, mix well. drop by rounded teaspoon onto a parchment lined baking sheet. bake in a 350 degree oven for 8 minutes. let cool and enjoy!
don't save it for a special occasion. every day of your life is a special occasion.
~thomas monson
love your people. hug your people. set out the good dishes. use the favorite blanket. make the good coffee. buy an ice cream cone. go on the bike ride. walk through the store. sit and talk. hold hands. send the card. send the text. use that stationary you like so well. pick a bouquet or buy the flowers. wear the bracelet. deive the hundred or the thousand miles on a whim. do what your heart is telling you to do for the people in your life. because every day of your life is truly a special occasion.