love for a wood stove

Though our wood stove is an insert with much less efficiency and whole-house-warming capabilities than that of a freestanding wood stove, I do so love it.  I love building and starting fires, love sitting in front of them, love hearing the blower fill our rooms with warmth and seeing the orangey glow bouncing off of the living room walls...... I'd like to be more involved in the chopping and stacking of the wood, and give it a (very brief) go from time to time, but Mike's chopping speed versus mine just makes mine seem so silly.

We had the same wood stove at our old rental house.  It was a gift from my dad.  His place came with the insert and a large freestanding stove and he chose the other.  Wisely, I'm sure.  You can't comfortably walk into his house in the middle of winter without peeling off several layers.

So this stove has been with us for a while.  Perhaps to some it seems a funny thing to get sentimental about, but something about it just makes me so happy and makes me feel so comforted.  I think a big part of my learning to fully embrace winter and the grey days it brings is that I spend a lot of time during those days happily parked right in front of that wood stove.  (Mike would say I'm a bit too in front of it- keeping the warmth from heating the rest of the house.  I think that's just ridiculous.  There's plenty of warmth to go around!)  That little stove is actually the source of a few fun light hearted debates in our household.  From my habit of "blocking" the heat from the rest of the house to what is the best way to build and start a fire, to when and how high we set the back up heat.... (one winter in our old house we were real troopers and didn't do so until one night we realized we could see our breath when we spoke.... we aren't that tough any more.  You know...... for Claire's sake.)

So, in front of the wood stove is where you can find me most cold wintry days.  With some tea, or a book, occasionally some knitting, maybe none of that.  This year I will probably be there most often with a pile of books and my girl.  I like to lay in front of it (laying down surely must lessen the effect on the rest of the house, don't you think?) and remember practicing yoga in front of it nightly when I was pregnant with Claire during a cold winter almost 2 years ago.  I spent a lot of time near the fire then and after she was born, and so I think it will always bring back sweet memories of both that special "before" time when you are still blessed with feeling those movements within and full of wondering about what is to come, and also of laying on the couch getting to know her as a tiny little newborn.  Gazing at that little face during those first few foggy and challenging weeks, bundling up near the fire and sleeping as much as possible, all wrapped up together.

Love that stove.

multigenerational camping, take two

My maternal grandmother is one of my very favorite people in the world.  She and I are so alike in so many ways and I feel like when I'm with her I could just sit and listen to her stories for hours.  It's almost like I am hungry for them.  I suppose I probably am.  Her short term memory isn't always that great, so I may hear some of those stories several times in a short period, but I figure that way I'll be less likely to forget them.  She can recall such vivid details from her childhood though, telling me stories from 70 years ago in a way that makes me feel like I'm right there with her back in time.  Rising before the sun to sit and drink coffee 'like a big girl' with my great grandfather, who I never met, before he got picked up for work, getting excited about oranges and apples that 'santa' (good ol' great grandpa) dropped outside their house on Christmas Day, and so many more.

She lives in Florida, about a 10 or 11 hour drive away.  So I don't see her as often as I'd like to.

She comes up to the Smokies every October (along with my aunt and several extended family members) to camp for most of a week and enjoy the gorgeous fall leaves that a life in Florida doesn't quite supply.  She's been doing that for a long time and though the camping has changed a bit, she's still pretty good at roughing it.  This weekend Mike and Claire and I got to join them for one day and night and though it was a shorter visit than we'd have liked, it was still great.  My mom and her husband and my brother (who all live about an hour from us) were there for most of the week too, so for Claire, Saturday was like a great little family reunion.  She sat as my grandmother rocked her in a chair near the fire, played hide and seek with her Uncle Marty, trick-or-treated for the first time (!) and played down by the river with papa.

We did the same thing a year ago, though then we stayed for a couple nights.  Then she wasn't walking.  Or talking.  Certainly not trick-or-treating (the campground has a little Halloween thing every Saturday in October).  Last year, I was still calling her a 'baby' without wondering whether or not that was accurate.

Because it was pretty clear back then that that was indeed what she was, my little baby:

This year, I'm thinking I might be on the verge of calling her my "little girl".

Maybe.

She did take some pictures all by herself..... definitely more a little girl thing to do than a baby thing.

And they came out quite well, really.  There are many more.  Many of her shoes, many of my mother and grandmother, a few of her backpack....

The trick-or-treating was pretty fun.  We inherited a monkey suit from Mike's sister and I'd packed it last minute "just in case".  At first she just wanted to watch everyone else,

but then she seemed to dig the monkey suit and so we walked around the campground and she learned the ins and outs of saying "trick or treat" and "thank you" and "hannoween chreats",

while I debated over what I was going to do once we were all done and she made a request for said "chreats".

Because she's not even two years old yet, you know.  A little shy of 21 months.  Not really in need of being introduced to candy just yet.

But I didn't even have to worry about all that.  When we got back and she took off her (candy filled) backpack I poured the candy into a bag and someone else handed her some carrots and celery and she was quite thrilled with those.

I asked her if those were her hannoween chreats, and she held them up proudly.

Saved by the vegetables.

I'm not going to be one to forbid my child from eating sweets and such, though I will do my best to gently guide her taste buds towards actual foods versus overly processed non-foods, but those new little monkey teeth just don't need lollipop rings and gummy eyeballs, ya know?  Nor does any part of that little monkey, really.

Following the trick-or-treating debut, I got to relax around the fire a bit with my big brother, the very proud uncle who giddily announced to all in earshot "this is my niece's first time trick-or-treating!".

That's a 'fun size' butterfingers in my hand right there.  Because I'm that seriously committed to keeping those little candy bars out of my daughter's reach for now.  Such a devoted and selfless mother am I.

It actually quite nicely complemented the Southern Pecan microbrew that uncle Hugh brought up from Mississippi.

Claire, on the other hand, rocked away with her great grandma by the fire.

I watched, feeling like my heart was going to burst, remembering rocking in that lap myself, being sung to with that voice, feeling those hands gently rubbing my back..... always coming away feeling all was well.

Then my mama and I jumped in for our four generation photos for this time around.

Oh, how I hope there are many many more of these photos to come~

a room to call her own

I keep catching myself walking past the open door to her room and stopping.

Smiling.

It's nothing extraordinary.  Pretty simple.

Maybe it's just that I never got a room ready for her before this, since she's been in with us since birth (and still is, really), and I'm enjoying it more than I thought I would.  Creating a little space just for her, that is.

She's really quite into it as well, of course.  Especially that canopied and cushiony reading corner.  She likes to hide behind the "curtain" and play peek-a-boo.  Or she'll take her baby in there and call to me "Mama come see! Mama come see! Mommmmmmy come see!" (she knows that gets me attention, I think)  and so in I go...... and she tells me "I read baby blue".  And there she is "reading" to baby blue.

She's got quite a sense of order, too, and I think she enjoys having most of her things in one room and having a place for each thing.  My mom tells me she comes by it honestly.  And then tells me about much needed sticker charts and night time rituals and all kinds of little particulars I had when I was a little one.

I like to think I turned out okay.  Looking in certain areas of my house now you'd never know I was so into order and such as a child.

And Claire.......  well, she is good about putting things away in their proper places, returning things as they were, pushing in chairs... that kind of thing.  

I like it.

But I'll also (usually) happily embrace the chaos when that's called for.  I'm working on that.

I have a few cute bird prints to hang on her walls and then that's it for now.  She loves to play in her room, loves to pile her finger puppets all into her little red barn, loves to color and read and spin and practice turning her bedside lamp on and off......

Loves to do everything in there but sleep.

Of course, I can't say that I'm trying all that hard to persuade her.  I will get her sleeping in there some day.  I will.  I will.  I will.

Tonight, as I laid next to her in (my) bed trying to get her to fall asleep, she decided instead to climb up onto my side and lay on me.  Her little face smushed right on my head.  Lovely. 

I was slightly annoyed by this.  Maybe more than slightly.  Certainly a bit defeated feeling.  (If you know us at all in real life, you know that sleep is not and has never been a strong point of Claire's.  I, on the other hand, love it and miss it dearly.....)

So, I was feeling like that until she started saying "mama mama mama mama mama" and then "mama I love you mama I love you mama I love you mama I love you"

I think I actually held my breath so that I could hear it all even just a tiny bit more clearly.  Really, really, hear it and feel it and allow it to soak into my bones.

And she had me.  Just like that.  I was left defenseless.  Decidedly not annoyed or defeated but instead soaring and smiling and smitten.

Damn, she's good.

this weekend~

So for two months now I've been back to living in workday vs. weekend mode.  Although going in at 2:45pm and only working 2.5 to 3 hours a day still leaves me with quite a bit more free time than I had when I worked a more regular schedule.

Wait.  Scratch that.  When I worked the "more regular" schedule I had no toddler.  And really, the whole "free time" thing is all a bit foggy these days anyway.  It's all relative, though.

Anyway~  I have my mornings free to take nice and slow, I work a bit and then I'm back at home.  Not bad.  But still, I've most certainly started knowing (for sure, without having to ask or check the calendar) when it's the weekend and when it's not.  I've just about gotten into a decent flow with working again.  There are kinks to work out, but there will always be kinks to work out.  That is a big part of life though, isn't it?  (or I suppose it's at least a big part of life that we create "kinks" that need working out in order to keep ourselves busy... or something like that.... hmmmmm)

But back to weekends.

Now that I am observing the weekends as glorious 2 day stretches of time to fill with whatever I wish, I am embracing my time a bit more fully and trying to get the most out of it.  Sometimes, the "most out of it" means laying on the couch in my pajamas with a good book, and sometimes it means a hike in the woods with my loves or a day full of errands or visits with friends.

This weekend:

We took a drive up the Blue Ridge Parkway towards Mount Mitchell to enjoy the changing leaves while they are still here and stopped at Craggy Pinnacle for a nice (extremely windy!) hike up to take in the 360 degree views.  First, we stopped in at the ranger station and enjoyed the rocking chairs and wood stove:

And then we headed out to explore~

That's her 'hiking swagger', I suppose.

Here is the view from up top:

Drives and walks like that acutely remind me that I live in a beautiful, beautiful place.  For that I am grateful and I aim to remember it every day.  To count my blessings and such.

She painted.  Her first painting.  She painted a pumpkin with papa last week, so that counts of course, but this was her first on paper painting.

I think we're going to be doing a lot of painting 'round these parts.

Market morning followed, and she played in the leaves~

The second to last market day for us was a family affair and so was afterwards, when Beeba (that's the name Claire made up for my mama) came back to the house to see Claire's room and play for a bit.

We made stew (this Irish beef stew) and apple crisp (the 2nd one in 3 days...) and sat by the fire that chilly evening.  The stew, being Irish, called for beer and red wine and so, well, I had a bit of each and when you add that to the full tummy and fire~ I was cozy and relaxed to say the least.

The following day, my little love and I took a trip to the station to see papa, just in time to watch him drive the truck out to a call with lights and sirens blaring.  But he was back 15 minutes later.  After our visit she and I drove out to this great little spot, me amazed by the vibrant leaves on the way and she sleeping, and spent the entire afternoon hanging out with good friends, eating, drinking, connecting, and being merry.

As you do with friends.

And then it was home again home again.

Where we tended the chickens,

and she tried on her new boots,

which she likes to say are like mama's boots.  Only mine are just boring old brown.  Not pink with brown "horsheys" on them.

Dinner, bedtime, hello Monday.

cheers!

one fine fall day

Yesterday was one of those overwhelmingly beautiful, vivid fall days.  The kind you think of when you think about how gorgeous and crisp and perfect fall is.  (I like to romanticize fall with thoughts of days like these along with thoughts of apple picking, pumpkins, first fires, big mugs of soup..... you know)

The leaves started changing around here in full force over the past week and I think if I blink I might just miss it.  It's always like that though, isn't it?  You know it's coming and yet it still seems to take you by surprise and happen so fast.  Sure, fall sticks around for a while, but the brilliantly colorful days are numbered and I'm determined to enjoy them while they're here.

They kind of demand it, really.  In a nice way, of course.  A polite fall way.  I mean, it isn't like you can really ignore all that beauty and awesomeness anyway.

And so, we took a little family hike on some of the trails just up the road from us in Montreat.

ahhhhhhhhhhh.  Fall.