August on Crescent Hill

"Home sweet home!" Sighed Ladybird as the train neared the Portland side of the Colombia River.We don't go to Portland very often, but it is a city I'm somewhat familiar with, and it is in Oregon, therefore I felt at home. I smiled at the shape of the tall buildings, the shape of the hills, the shape of the fir trees which are such a part of my home state. Me and Ladybird had gone home with cousins after the family reunion (which was a wonderful one, by the way) and stayed with them for a week. It was a good time, and I am so glad I was able to spend it with them, but home is my favorite place in all the world; it's hard to imagine being any more excited than I was when we entered Portland, then Oregon City, then Canby, and finally Salem. We had to wait extra long in our "home" train station (I found that the longer I was in it, the less familiar it felt) but finally Bethany and Cassio arrived and we all went home.
Coming back to Hilltop Manor, we celebrated Cassio's birthday with mocha cheesecake and a rather quiet, though very content, evening together (those of us who are here, at least). I longed to go on a walk after the long train ride, but by the time I was ready it was too dark and late, so I managed to wait until this morning.
I spent time with Mama and Gavin when I woke up, and then I went out to look around at all my dear home places. I discovered that the blackberries are ripe, so I picked some for our pancake breakfast. Blackberries are nostalgic for me, as well as being my favorite berry, so coming home to find Crescent Hill (the hill at the bottom of our driveway) abundant with them made my morning ever so wonderful.
Today is the last day of July. I had a great two weeks away at the Quail's Nest and with cousins, the train ride was interesting and fun, but I couldn't be happier to be home at last, just in time to start off August with blackberry picking and the renewal of my sweet, good life at home!

Busyness

Something happened to my "quiet week before the plunge". Since Monday I've been swept up in a whirl wind of places to go and things to be done, and it isn't over yet. Game night, birthday party, dinner at our friends' house, then church and youth group tomorrow. These are all very fun enjoyable activities, but they zap energy like crazy, and I'm glad for the empty afternoons of today and tomorrow. At least, they're empty in the sense that I don't have to leave home. I have plenty of chore things that I want to get done, and picnic preparations for the family reunion (lemon loaf is in order) and packing and organizing need to happen for the trip as well. But these things can be juggled with one of my long afternoon naps and some quiet time reading or drawing or nature journaling. I'm in need of these things right now after a full day of exercise yesterday (I ran eight miles in the morning, and at the birthday party played ultimate frisbee and bump a lot). It's been fun. When I want to curl up and sleep for hours on end I think about the eight hour drive ahead of me. Monday morning, early, we'll set out for the Quail's Nest!

Bouquets

My garden is flourishing, and so is our landscaping in the front of the house. Some mornings, instead of weeding or watering or spreading hay, I come out to my little garden and cut flowers. Bachelor's Buttons are in full splendor, there are daisies and queen anne's lace in abundance in the field, and Mama's hydrangeas are blooming with billowy blue and purple blossoms. The poppies are a mystery to me. They are growing in my garden but I never planted them, and they don't usually come up wild around here. Probably a case of long-ago seeds finally waking up. Whatever the cause, I am glad that I have poppies. I love to tuck them into bouquets and watch them unfold their silky orange petals as the day goes by. In the evening they wrap themselves up again to look like little candle flames, keeping themselves safe for the night. It's amazing to me that they do this even when I keep them up in the Glow-light room where, in spite of the name, it stays quite dim for a good portion of the day (the window faces west). Hopefully next year there will be even more of the gorgeous golden things.

Before the Plunge

This will be a quiet week. Next week, and the one after, will be days of busyness and fun at the big family reunion and following cousin time. We get to leave early in the morning, which is my favourite time (it builds excitement) and me and Ladybird won't come back until two weeks later, by train. I'm so excited to see my family again, visit nostalgia haunts and enjoy all our treasured pastimes together.
I'm resting in quietude this week before the plunge. I've had a quiet home day complete with a long nap and a chance to nature journal after me and Dad finished our Monday night push-ups. The woods was dappled with rich white light that caught in the spindly fir boughs and made them look like lace. It illuminated the wings of the little moths, and they flitted around, fairly-like, among the sunlit curtains. Woodland birds made soft, sweet music that mingled with their back-up instrumentalists--the droning insects. I wrote a letter to one of my cousins (who I will see next week!) and told her that I couldn't wait to meet at the Quail's Nest. Even in the midst of this peaceful lull I am beginning to burn with excitement. I especially look forward to breakfast at Cousins Restaurant on the drive there :-)

Beach Day + drive-in + a regular Saturday

Newport was sunny and not too cold yesterday. We rarely have fine weather on our beach trips, but this was decidedly fine weather. We had a picnic up in the park, then walked down onto the shore where we spent a few wonderful hours.

After we got home from the beach I took a quick shower before leaving again for the drive-in with my older brother and sister. He was watching the movies with his college friends, Elaina was meeting there with friends before a sleepover, and I found my high-school friends who were there. I enjoyed Despicable Me 2 and most of Man of Steel, and then I fell asleep. I set a record last night: I've never been out past midnight before (we came home around 3 this morning).

I woke up at around 8:30 and made myself get up because I knew I wouldn't want to run later when it got too warm out. I'm working up to 6.7 miles for this Crater Lake run in August and this morning I did 6--so close now! Since then I've had a wonderful, relaxing day full of puttering around getting chores done, plus an hour long nap to make up for a little of my late night. I'm going to bed early today, so I'll be all back to normal tomorrow. 

P.S. I apologize for the odd photo organization. I still haven't learned to use blogger very well.

Changing Perspective

Many past Independence Days have found my thoughts very pessimistic. You see, I couldn't think about American freedom without immediately picturing an obese elderly couple wasting their days in front of the TV, with chips and pop always on the couch next to them; when I thought about fireworks I thought about air pollution and dirty rain (these thought processes are probably the only negative result of being a health and nature maniac!). In moderation, its not a bad thing to consider the faults of the standard life, but I'm pretty sure I was obsessing over it a little bit, particularly on holidays.
For the past year I've been training myself to think a bit differently, to look at all this from a more positive angle. Throughout the school year I studied U.S. history in depth as my theme in literature. I read through a course called The History of US which is a very good eleven books explaining the United States' past as far as it is recorded (along with some educated guesses regarding the first people here and their lifestyle). I developed an appreciation for this country which I had never experienced before, and which I hope will continue to grow.
In spite of its many shortcomings, this home country of mine has grown very much since its beginning. I'm so glad that we reached freedom and opened our doors to whoever else wished to participate in it as well. I'm proud that we gained liberty (although I often question our decision to take over Hawaii later on: doesn't that cut against the grain of our foundation? After all, we were built upon freedom and independence from unwanted government--it seems that we could have shown some patience with the desires of another people). I'm excited to be a part of this country that held itself together during the civil war. I'm not devoid of shame though: shame for our mistakes in withholding freedom from those who, by right of their humanity, deserved it as equally as any, and shame for some very foolish decisions we've made in times of war and times of peace. We've acted cruelly in the past and in many ways we have suffered for it. However, as a result of these mistakes and failures, the U.S. has gained some knowledge about the healthy running of a country. We are not there yet, and perhaps we never will, but I can taste and see a tiny bit of the goodness you might find in the ideal community. I'm choosing now to look at the big picture of my country, and in this picture, along with the descending sorrows, I see much growth. Looking back throughout our history I can see a slender, ascending trail that is the progression of positive growth and noble goals reached in the United States. It is for this climbing pathway of hope and wholesome goodness that I will joyfully celebrate today. I will delight in the fireworks.

A poem written in yesterday's twilight

Time to Notice

Gaze with me at that little rabbit

and at Chesterton, poised to chase it.

Look at the unique color of the air:

it's glowing with a dim, warm glow.

Stop for just a few minutes, to glance

around at the firs silhouetted against

the sunset--a pool of smooth colors.

Listen, since you're here now, to

the thump of the rabbit retreating.

Do your ears catch all the mingling

bird calls and insect drones?

Don't they ever ache with strange

nostalgia at the sound of cars

cruising down a far-off highway?

What about the fireworks tonight?

do you hear those?

Since your ears are open now, and

you can see that rose-light on the oak limbs,

maybe you will feel the warmth in the air.

There is the gentlest, most unobtrusive breeze

flirting with the fronded meadow grass

and sugar-white daisies and my hair.

It's July 1st, after all. Its time to notice

this summer that won't last forever.

Faerynn M.

A morning bird watch

It was 6:24 when I woke up and looked at the alarm clock on our windowsill (turned off, of course, for a leisurely Monday morning in summer). I smiled at the memory of my random, crazy dream and then curled back into delicious sleep. At 7 I awoke again, but this time I only laid there thinking. Finally, after about fifteen minutes, I sat up, did a cat stretch and my allotted crunches (I'm working up to doing 250!) and gathered my Bible, prayer journal and Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm into my blue bamboo book bag (incredible alliteration, right?). Then I set off, full pitcher in hand, to my Bird Sanctuary just down the slope behind Hilltop Manor.
It was balmy out, and there were sun-dapples and shady places in abundance in the Sunrise Woods and The Meadow. There was just the slightest stirring of a breeze in the air, and the scent of July 1st clung to everything. When I got to my sanctuary, I tried to quietly refill the bird baths with the bright, beady eyes of a chestnut-backed chickadee watching me (these friendly little birds are still somewhat wary of me, though I am familiar to them and they almost never fly off when I come). Then I scampered up into the Climbing Tree to have my Quiet Hour and enjoy the birds. I saw some yellow warblers and a sharp-shinned hawk. I read a few chapters from Numbers and some of Rebecca, but mostly I simply rested there and let all the peace sink in. I've been watching the cherries ripen on the tree by my sanctuary: this morning they looked jewel red and almost ready for picking. I tried to memorize the unique calls of the warblers and chickadees (I usually recognize them when I hear them, but can never think of them in my head afterwards). I went breathless with excitement when the hawk flew past with a remarkably quiet, though powerful,  wing beat and perched on one of the nearby limbs of the maple tree. The chickadees went ominously silent at his arrival, but my stillness was the product of pure, wondering awe at the elegant creature so close at hand. He was amazing.