Don't Think. Just Breathe.

Sometimes I think too much, too much quiet pondering with not enough quiet around me. Sometimes I just need to close everything up and open the doors on a brisk autumn day and pick apples.

I could tell you about how the tide was out and the banks of the Cornwallis river were bare and exposed. Or how the farm was completely deserted except for our little band and that we just put our money in the honesty box. I could tell you all about the apples and how we taste tested to see which ones we wanted to bring home. 

I could tell you how the little one sat right down and ate apples and how the older one ran and ran. I could tell you how the clouds were brilliant, the sun so bright and all the leaves set aglow.

 I could tell how we filled our four bags in no time flat. And that I have no idea what I'll be doing with all the apples but they will be enjoyed.

I could tell you how the petting zoo was full of animals and one manical donkey who nibbled on everything, including us. And how Kilmeny knows exactly the sound pigs make and she will forever say that pigs are grumpy and that they don't say oink. It's more of a gutteral noise from the back of the throat, that makes us all laugh and laugh when she imitates it.

 I could tell you about the good it does one's soul just to stop thinking, to let all the wonderings be and fill one's lungs with fresh, brisk air.

I could tell you how we came home and made apple fritters and then ate them for supper with boiled eggs and tea, in true hobbit fashion. 

I will wish you brisk autumn air, and clarity for all the thoughts swirling in your mind. And for you, the chance to let it all go and just breathe. 

the gift of the hard times

Sometimes, the words come readily. Sometimes they don't. Sometimes there's time and quiet and a refreshed spirit. Sometimes there's not. 

But, all of it. It is all a gift.

Sometimes you miss your own family so bad. And friends. And the freedom to cry and share and know that she will understand you whether it's teething or tantrums or late nights or style quandaries or emotional roller coasters. 

And sometimes? You step out of your comfort zone and accept an invitation to a bonfire even though your husband is out of town and you have to be the parent, the extrovert, and yourself. Sometimes, you push the stroller all the way up the hill and join in celebrating a little friend's birthday. And through the laughter and sugar-induced excitement and the freedom of little children, you feel small roots going down and friendships becoming. 

And it is all a gift. 

p.s. I wrote this last week but never shared it, Jared is away again this week but I have my brother visiting. I'll share more from our adventures later this week. Thanks for being here. 

the street where we live

On Westwood Ave, just off Main street and tucked behind a deep red maple is our home. It's a five unit apartment building, built in the early 20th century.

The basement is everything that an old basement should be: cobwebby, low ceiling-ed, and old furniture to be brought upstairs, painted and given a new home. 

The third floor is half living quarters and half attic. Ten years ago, I would have carved out a little nook by the paned glass window to read and dream. Now, I watch my girls as they scurry under the eaves and investigate all the forgotten  treasures.

It's mostly just the girls and I at home during the day. Everyone else is out and about, except for our neighbor access the hall. The gentleman has lived here for a long time and is the sweetest grandfatherly type man. He offers to help with any information about the building we may need, apologizing that he can't help in a more practical way. He's 95, still writing books and walking downtown for his groceries.

There hasn't ever been children or musicians living in this house but the others don't seem to mind. The French couple who lives upstairs always smile at our girls and love listening to the hours of practice.

There is a dog in residence, we hear his feet skittering across the hardwood floor and the little yelps when his owners come home. She looks like Kate right down to her nude pumps and dark wavy hair. He looks nothing like Will though, we exchange hellos when we go for walks and little tidbits about the neighborhood.

There's a fifth resident, one of those brilliant writers or night shift workers, I'm convinced of it. Not exactly the type to host a building party at Christmas but friendly enough to say hello.

And then us. The family with the little girls, recently transplanted from Alberta. Musician, artists and owners of the double BoB.

It's a lovely place, clotheslines out the back and a formal front entry with a beautiful tile floor. The bushes are all flaming red now, the grass still full and lush.

It's the first place that we've loved this much and that I've let myself get so attached too. It calls out the beauty, the parties we could host, the conversations to be had, the neighbors to bake for, and the memories to be made.

It's home. 

Transitions, Popcorn, and Making Memories

I lay with you tonight, until you stopped talking and your breathing slowed. You were in my bed, Daddy had to go back to Alberta to shoot a wedding and so it's just us girls hanging out for the weekend. 

You were wearing your 'workout jammies', a pair of sweats that you wear when you work out with me. You took your long sleeved pink tee off because you were just too hot. 

You flipped and flopped all over the bed. It's been a big day. It's been a big month and a half, so many changes and I forget sometimes that you're only two. 

We took Daddy to the airport and you wanted to go to. So badly. There were tears in the car. Yours, mine and Khaira's. 

I think somehow you see the airport as a magic portal. Like, if we just all step through the revolving doors life will resume normalcy again. 

It's hard, baby girl. I know, I understand. It's hard for me too. 

It's why we relax a little bit on some things, and why we maintain our family traditions. Reading the same books at bedtime, having special foods, and singing songs that we like and have always liked. 

We shared a bowl of popcorn tonight, actually it was a cake pan because we don't have our bowls with us yet. We watched a little movie, you, me and Khaira. We munched on carrot sticks and snuggled through the scenes of the screen. Khaira fell asleep quickly. You needed a little more time to unwind, you take in so much of what goes on around you. We talk about baby horses and jammies, about coloring and the swings at the park. You stroke my hair and share your blanket with me. You ask me if I'm cozy, I memorize this moment with you. 

It takes all evening for you to fall asleep and that's okay. 

Your breathing slows and you barely stir when I move back to your own bed. My own breathing slows and I feel peace. 

Picking the Perfect Pumpkin

It's the pumpkin patch dilemma. Everyone is dressed in their sweaters and plaids and boots, parents are following their children around asking them to "just please look at the camera!" "Just smile nicely!"

The children run from pumpkin to pumpkin declaring each one to be the best. They see the glory of the big orange balls, the autumn light glinting off the pumpkins, the corn maze holds mystery to their imagination.

The adults check their watches or their phones, getting caught up in a text conversation.

"Hurry, hurry, haven't you picked one out yet?"

They drag the pumpkins to get weighed and then load the children in the car to cries of 'but we weren't finished yet.'

The pumpkin sits on the front porch steps, maybe with a carved face or not. The pictures are liked and commented on, 'oh my goodness, your kids are SO cute!'

And everyone moves on. 

Pie is made with canned filling from the store or a ready-made pie is picked out from the bakery section. And it's eaten and for the most part enjoyed. I'm not judging here, this was the way we danced on Thanksgiving weekend. And it was good. 

It struck me this weekend when we were out at the pumpkin patch, the great extent we go to make memories and to capture everything and then to share it, as if the capturing and sharing make it more real. Parents chasing their children around, bribing their children for pictures when all the children want to do is run and delight in the pumpkins. Minus the bribing part, that was me. It wasn't the perfect pumpkin picking that I wanted, and it wasn't just the children who were being fussy and grumpy.

Sometimes, its better to just let the littles set the pace, to follow them around the pumpkin patch, marveling at how they walk, noticing what they notice. Sometimes it's better to not care so much about capturing the perfect picture but to make the perfect memory. Sometimes it means picking out a knobby pumpkin and hefting into the stroller for the ride home. Sometimes it means not being perfect and not being all cutesy and not having any of those pictures to share. Sometimes the only pictures are of everyone being distracted and looking the other way but sometimes there's the one magical picture of sunlight and autumn and life. Real life just like you live it everyday, captured just how you are right then. 

And that's really okay. And that's really real. And that's really beautiful. 

Enjoy Now

Enjoy Now. 

There's dozen of pithy quotes with this concept, I probably have half a dozen on my "good words" pinboard. 

I need them pinned on my head, on my walls, and on my girls' walls. 

I have these daydreams sometimes when I go for walks that both girls will fall asleep in the stroller, at the same time. They will stay asleep while I navigate the coffee shop, order my drink, enjoy it (while it's hot), and read for several hours. At the end of which time, they will wake up happy and I will be a content better person. 

(If I just crushed any of your ideas about me, I'm not sorry. Real life is so much better and messier)

But if those dreams were to come true, I would miss out on so much. So much life. 

I realized this the other day as I navigated the coffee shop with the stroller and two wide awake girls. I smiled at the other customers, no doubt breathing a sigh of relief that my coffee was to go. I pushed the stroller towards the water and onto the dyke, Kilmeny got out of the stroller and started running. Khaira was running with her in spirit, she is so close to walking everywhere and can't wait to keep up with Kilmeny that way. 

I breathed the rich sea air into my lungs and felt life taking hold again. 

We reached the corner, just where the rocks are piled perfectly to sit and the path is wide enough for two little girls to play on without getting in the way of other runners. I drank my coffee, and watched the waves beat against the rocks. I marveled (again) at the builders of the dyke and their determination to guard their farmland from the ocean. Khaira toddled from rock to rock, Kilmeny kept pace with every runner who passed us. 

It took the smiles of a passerby to make me realize the wealth I had, she shared a delighted 'oh, look at them go!' smile with me and I felt instantly validated for all those hours of being mom. 

We walked and walked along the cornfields. The girls did fall asleep and I did read. I sat on the farmland side of the dyke, the sun warming my face, and just read. My phone was off and away, I listened to the birds sing and said hello to the cyclists. 

I enjoyed it. 

I didn't know how long they would sleep for or how long I would be able to read in complete quiet. So I soaked it up and 100 pages later, when they started waking up, I felt refreshed. 

And I had a new motto, a new mantra. 

Enjoy Now. 

The toddles of my one year old, the snuggles, the fits, the stories, the questions, the crying, the raw reality of being here in this season. 

Tomorrow will be hard and beautiful and memorable too. 

Hennigar's Farm: An excursion

It's beautiful. Quiet with the occasional maa from the goats and conversation from the ducks in one of the ponds. 

There's wild grapes growing over by the chicken coop. And we spied a frog in the rushes from the shelter of the covered bridge. There's a longer nature walk that we'll do next time and during the summer we can get fish and chips at the little cookhouse festooned with more grapes. 

It was one of those just-so-happened-to-stumble-upon places. The farm lies in a hollow just a couple kilometers out of Wolfville. Its a normal farm market, filled with seasonal produce from their farm and other farms throughout the Valley as well as baking and garden decor. But just a hop, skip and a jump from the store is the loveliest of little places. 

There's a boat dry-docked in a bed of sand, complete with an assortment of toys. The girls loved it. I loved it. We stayed there for a couple hours. And I knew we would come back. 

We paid fifty cents for a cone of goat food and paid a visit. Past the pond with it's fountain, past the picnic tables inviting you to stop and sit, and onto the goats. I'm not sure who was more eager, the goats at the anticipation of a treat or my girls.

We hung out with the goats for awhile, I thought they were quite cute and so full of personality. Kilmeny wasn't so sure about the goats eating the corn straight from her hand so she watched while the goats nibbled the corn from my hand. 

Then it was onto Bunnyville where we watched the furry little (and not so little) rabbits play and fed them grass. 

It's the loveliest of places, perfect for soothing one's spirit and keeping little people very well occupied. 

What new discoveries have you been making?

To Pick an Apple

We went apple picking, my girlies and I. It's kind of one of those 'must do' activities when you live in the Annapolis Valley. Historically the Valley is known for its apple orchards, Wolfville's famous Farmer's Market is held in an old apple warehouse and every farm market along the highway sells apples whether grown in their own orchards or not. 

To live during Autumn is to live the season in the East where leaves turn every color and the season is long, long compared to the West. It has always been one of my favorite seasons but here there is just something extra special. Apple picking, pumpkin patch, gourds, boots, scarves, hot tea, and the cold nip  in the mornings. 

I was delighted when I saw apple picking at Noggins Corner Farm on a list of activities with a local homeschool playgroup. My girls are too young for most of activities but this one I knew we could do and it was an opportunity to get out and meet some other moms. 

Noggins Corner Farm is a well-set up operation. They have a farm market where you can buy all kinds of seasonal produce, their squash displays alone made me want to buy one of every variety. 

Along with about 60 other parents and their children, we went on a wagon ride past the flower and herb gardens, the raspberry canes and the pumpkin patch. We rode through the forest and under the eagle's nest and past rows and rows of beautiful apples. 

Each of the children were given a bag and we filled it with Gravenstein (an apple brought over from Europe in the 19th century), and Macintosh (a Canadian apple from Ontario in the 18th century). Kilmeny was more interested with picking up the apples off the ground then picking them off the tree, and we filled the bag quite quickly. 

There was also a corn maze to go through as well as the incredible play area set up to occupy children of all ages. I opted out of the corn maze because really? With one sleeping baby and the toddler strapped in the stroller, it wouldn't be that fun. We hung out by the duck races, got throughly soaked (Kilmeny) and chatted with the other moms of littles (me). 

There were apples to enjoy on the picnic tables, huge slides made out of pipes, tunnels made out of the same pipes and hay bales, a climbing structure made out of tires and hay bales and flowers to pick if one so chose. 

It was a marvellous day, filled with lovely autumn activities. 

What is your favorite thing about this season?

Simple Pasta for Busy Days

It's the simplest of dishes. Perfect for dinner on a busy day. After a long walk winding up and down through wine country with no real idea of where you are going. The views are amazing, the air is clear, and the farmer waves at you as you pass his Holsteins.

Jared was practicing and catching up on assignments. The girls and I set off to find an new playground, the route was much like my life right now. Unexpected. Splashes of beauty. Hard hills to push the double stroller.
We came home to the sound of the university's chapel bells ringing, a call to prayer. They sound every morning and evening. When I'm quiet, I hear them. And my spirit is quieted. Even in hard times, the beauty is there.

And home is still the four of us, gathered around the table. Slurping up pasta, mashing the vegetables (that would Khaira) and sipping some wine.

Home. Together.

Simple Pasta

Start by cooking your favorite pasta. I went with a spinach fettuccine because I like the splash of green. Sun-dried tomatoes would be nice to or while wheat pasta.
While it is boiling, sauté your vegetables.
Zucchini, yellow summer squash, purple onion, garlic, red and green peppers cooked up quickly in some bacon fat.
The veggies were tossed with the pasta along with some leftover bacon from the morning's brunch.
Just before serving, I sprinkled each serving with Fundy feta. A homemade feta mixed with dulse, a seaweed that is harvested from the Bay of Fundy. I picked up the cheese from the local farmer's market and have been sprinkling it on everything.

We ate quietly. Letting the food nourish our bodies and spirits.

What good food have you had recently?

Nature Walk: Atlantic Style

It started out as an ordinary walk. Down main street, past all the shops, pausing to check out the latest display in the shoe store and then moving on. Past the old church and the row of bed and breakfasts, and then the gardens stopped me.

The sculptured beds of flowers with a fountain and a weeping willow. Just through the spray of the water, I saw a a slide. We turned right.

The girls delighted with me in all the beauty.

"Look at the flowers, mummy!"

There was just enough playground and just enough nature park. Exposed roots and massive stumps made a steep hillside accessible for little legs to go up and down. 

All morning.

The littlest one was happy from her perch in the swing while I looked at the trees. 

Maple! Oak! And acorns!

And thus we had our first nature study, the Atlantic version. It still feels a little weird to actually live in Atlantic Canada. Every time I hear it, it feels so far away. Because it has been. But now it's home.

I explained to Kilmeny that the oak tree came from a little acorn. And then we were like squirrels and collected tons of the little nuts for our autumn display. We delighted in the different textures and colors. The fat ones, the green ones, and the ones missing their little caps.

We clambered up the dirt face of the hill and found a delightful little meadow with a path. Obviously we followed it. And around the bend, there were blackberries! We picked berries, Kilmeny quickly learned that the black ones were the ones to pick, not the red ones.

We went home with our treasures: berry stained lips, lots of acorns and the delight of discovering a brand new place to explore.

To take a Nature Walk:

Engage all your senses- colors, textures, smells, sounds, tastes!

Be elaborate or simple- take(when appropriate!) treasures home for a nature table or display in jars.

Let your children set the pace- Kilmeny liked collecting nuts and berries for a little bit and then she was all over the teeter-totter.

And We Found a House!

He told me not to fall in love. With the house. I laughed and met the man who would show me around.

I tried to stay calm and ask all those grown up questions one should ask when looking at a potential rental. But inwardly, I was cheering wildly.

A mantle?! Built in bookshelves?! Original , beautiful hardwood, closets by the score (well, almost), the glass handles on each and every door.

Tomas showed me the gardens, the back door, and the garbage bins.
He pointed out that the house was one of Wolfville's original apartment buildings from 1912. The previous tenant was just a few years younger then this house.

It's a short walk to the campus, a pleasant walk to downtown Wolfville and a good long walk to a nearby farm for fresh produce.

We both fell in love. We talked and talked it over and decided to say yes.
It's old. It has character. There's plenty of space for the four of us as well as guests. It has lovely little touches that I hoped for but didn't expect.

Due to circumstances beyond our control, all our stuff won't actually be joining us for several more weeks. I'm very grateful that all those rubbermaids will be making their way out here eventually. We'll be living out of suitcases for a little while longer. At least we can put our library books on the shelves and dream about staging the mantel.

It's home and I love it.