Goodbye November

 The mirror tells the story from today. I see it and laugh -- My long sleeve black shirt spattered with flour, grafted with smashed banana, dusted with ashes, caked with dirt and stretched from tiny hands and toes squirmy from a satisfied snack.

This is what is rich. This is what fills up.

The children wake me early so we rumple and tickle and cackle. I slide out of bed and hurry to the faithful French press and water kettle to start the coffee and grab the waffle recipe. It is Waffle Friday. We gobble down waffles, piddle around a bit and pack up the snack basket for a trip to Orchard Pond Organics.

The goal was to "help". Amelia longs to harvest anything, so I'd called and asked if we could help. They start early and we were late. It was our first visit and four and six year olds don't show up often to help here, but they were gracious and sent us to weed some greens. Adventure friend Dorrie digs and pulls with us. Sweet farmer stays close and tells stories and gives advice. She's impressed at the children's weeding abilities and inquisitive spirits. Farmer Tom says we can go glean sweet potatoes from the sweet potato patch. William crawls and swims in the dirt. George Wilder and Amelia dance through rummaging for tiny potatoes.

We head back to the car. We thank them for letting us help and they thank us with a huge load of greens and a honey bear!

Home again we eat our lunch. Amelia wants to pick out the green we will eat for dinner, but she definitely wants to save the collards to eat with Daddy when he is back from his trip.

We grab our learning tools and quilt and head towards the sheep. Today we will be outside. It is glorious. We are barefoot.

The chickens are curious, Lucy wants us to throw her the ball, and the sheep stand along the fence just watching. The children aren't phased a bit. We take breaks to check for eggs, jump on the trampoline, visit the sheep, and play with scooters.

The air is still and there is a sweet quiet in the yard. Leaves crunch beneath our feet. It's getting late, so we gather some twigs and logs for the fire. We don't need to really, it won't be cold tonight. We play sweetly waiting for the pizza.

It is ready. We review the day and dip our pizza in olive oil and balsamic vinegar.

We miss daddy. He is in San Diego at a conference. The children are sure that he is in a different country. Asia? George Wilder asks.

We change out of our clothes that tell the story of our day and crawl into bed. Tears for George Wilder, wiggles for Amelia. Daddy is their bedtime man and we miss him. The Blessing calms us down. Sleep is here.

Goodbye November.


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