Monday, April 20, 2015
Two weeks ago, the children and I walked in the snowy woods, hoping for a glimpse of something (ANYTHING) green. Springtime woods are filled with such glorious light- eerie and misty, the moss tinging everything with a sort of glowing green haze. Andrew made a hat shop for any fairies passing through. I wished I were a fairy, it looked very fancy. Like a fairy hat shop should be.
This week, we saw the crocuses holding tight to their tender stalks while winds whipped. Glorious lavender with orange smiles, swaying laughingly at the wind. We saw swollen buds of narcissus and spikes of green and then, voila! A blossom of sunshine brought by way of a boy...Son-shine.
We ate our first food on the grill last night and I don't think I have tasted anything so good before. I could have made triple the amount of grilled vegetables and still they would have disappeared. As tiring as zucchini eventually become when they grow into pluck-able food overnight; in the beginning stretches of spring- after a whole winter without- they are divine.
I have begun the annual clothing-switch over. Adele' is my sidekick with this job. It is one of her most favorite things to do...ever. That girl is a clothes horse. For my children, the clothing switch-over is akin to a monumental shopping spree. And yet, 99.4% of all the clothing are cast-offs from kind friends and children outgrown.
My house is kind of a wreck today. I managed to bring in all the 'new stuff' but haven't managed to get it in its' proper places and take away the 'old stuff'. That is what I will be doing this afternoon. I hope nobody stops by unexpectedly... but they probably will.
I will say, after last years' Granary Project, the clothing switch is a much more pleasant task to do! No rickety Granary stairs to climb with teetering, heavy bins. So glad to have gotten that done last year!
My resolution for this year is to downsize the bins of clothes and storage and, after having spent some time going through bins this weekend, I think it may be harder to do than originally planned. Every shirt, every dress, every blanket seems to have some sort of memory etched into it and I know it will be hard to pass them along. And yet- we have entirely too much. It must be done. As unpleasant a task as it can be in the beginning, next time I have to do the annual clothing switch-over, I think I will be just as grateful for having done it just as I am now about last years' goal.