In Amanda’s words: This Moment – A Friday ritual. A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

In Amanda’s words: This Moment – A Friday ritual. A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

So here it is.  Our first vegetable garden in over ten years. The plan for the raised bed is from the book The Urban Homestead by Kelly Coyne and Erik Knutzen.  I would like to say it was easy to put together because I am not the one who put it together, but the project seemed to go quickly and without a hitch.  Without a hitch except that it was a thousand degrees outside. The hard part was lugging all the topsoil and compost from the hardware store.  It took two trips, and over forty bags to fill this thing.  That was the hard part.  Raised beds are a must for us because about four inches below our soil is a thick layer of shell.  Oh yeah, I live in Florida.

This garden is already doing better than the one before, probably due to the fact that it is getting more sunlight and more water.  Who knew?

Even though we knew that planting in the heat of summer might be a disaster, we went ahead and threw some starts in.  Everything’s looking good, if not impressive, but pretty much everything has blossom drop due to too-high temperatures.  The tomatoes set a few fruit, but we lost one to some kind of small worm.  The peppers have been doing well, and the basil has been keeping us in pesto for the past few weeks.

I don’t want to jinx myself by saying that this garden has been really easy, but well, it has.  While I know that it will take us probably a few years to build up really good soil, most of our plants are doing well, and the only plant I’ve lost so far was a marigold.

It’s just been pure pleasure watching this stuff grow.  And I’ve learned a few things already. Like it’s important to put the cages on the tomatoes before they get too big.  And don’t leave a full bale of mulching hay in a wagon where it can get full of water and then rot in a very stinky way.  And when somethng is looking good and ripe–pick it and stick it in the fridge before it rots.

This gardening thing is seriously addictive.  We have plans to build two more boxes like this one for the fall.  It’s been so much fun poring over seed catalogs (even if it has been virtual instead of actual.) I’m looking forward to the day when my first seed catalog arrives in the mail. Perhaps then I will feel like a real gardener.

Day two of my personal retreat was just as good as day one, in its own way.  In the morning, The Daddy Monkey took the kids to his parent’s house for a swim, and I had a quiet house all to myself. Inspired by yesterday’s meditation retreat, I took the morning to clean and declutter my meditation space.  With a nice clean space to call my own, it’s much more pleasant to bring myself to practice.

After they returned, I went out yarn shopping and bought some lovely sock yarn and some jeans for myself. (Only had to try on about thirty pairs, but easy to do when you don’t have two kids with you!) I stopped for a few dinner supplies and headed home.

It felt good to come home to three smiling faces.  I really love these people that I have chosen to share my life with. What a difference it made to have some space to realize that. Taking this time for myself has made me realize how bad I am at making myself a priority.  I am committed to carving out this space a little more often, and asking for help when I need it.

We had a lovely dinner, the four of us, and decided to go for a swim.  The boys played in the waves, and The Girl and I sat on the beach after our swim.  I knitted while The Girl played in the sand.   It was really nice to reconnect with my family at the beach after taking some time alone.

And here I am in a quiet home again.  My three loves sleeping in their beds.   As my meditation teacher said yesterday, “I have everything I need.”

Having had such a difficult time lately, The Daddy Monkey suggested that I “take the weekend off.”  With that in mind, I made a commitment to recharge my own batteries and restore my sense of balance over this weekend.

I began by getting some much needed acupuncture on Thursday evening, to help soothe my over-taxed adrenals.  It felt soooo good.

I started my day today by sleeping in, then enjoying a quiet, solitary breakfast.

Afterwards, I had the great pleasure of taking a half-day retreat at my local Buddhist meditation center.  I contemplated inviting a friend or two along, but decided that being by myself was what I needed to focus.  As it turns out, I ran into a friend there.

Just being in such a beautiful place filled my heart.  Hearing the words of a wise, young, vibrant, soft-spoken Buddhist nun filled me with not only a small sense of peace, but also gave me encouragement to take better care of myself.  Today’s experience deepened my understanding of mindfulness, lovingkindness, and even the task of ordinary household chores!

I wanted desperately to take notes during the teachings, but realized that in the two (!) bags I had packed (wallet, phone, keys, knitting, zafu) I did not have a single pencil. I felt a bit twitchy that I couldn’t write anything down. I decided to focus on listening rather than writing, and letting go of my attachment to always writing everything down. During our break, I asked my friend for a pen, and took a few notes on the back of my knitting pattern.  Ironically, when I left, I left both my knitting pattern and her pen on the chair next to me.  How’s that for releasing attachment?

I purchased a book and a lovely art card, and left feeling peaceful, rested, and relaxed.   I headed out for a roll of sushi.  I enjoyed my salmon roll (alone!) and read my book (with no interruptions!) in a lovely, sunny window.

I got home, read some Curious George, and took a nap.  Then I stayed in bed and read some more of my new book.

We plan on ordering in some Thai for dinner, and I am looking forward to it!  What a great day it has been.  Thank you to the Daddy Monkey for giving me the space to work on myself this way.

One of the tasks of meditation is to allow your heart to sustain a certain feeling for an extended period of time. Now if only I could sustain this wonderful, relaxed feeling every day.

I’ve been carrying this sweater with me everywhere.  Row by row, I had the entire body of the sweater finished and bound off.  It was time to start the sleeves when I realized I’d made a huge mistake. I was pretty proud of myself for not having a total meltdown when I made the discovery.

The following evening, I sat down on the couch with my yarn winder, and row by row, I unravelled my work and re-wound the yarn into nice neat balls.  A bit heartbreaking, yes.

While telling my tale of woe today at the beach, I was consoled by two friends.  One (a fellow knitter) who simply shared in my agony, and the other who reminded me that this was a good lesson in the state of impermanence.

Indeed I have let go of this, and surely I can let go of more.

I was reminded of Erin’s post from earlier in the week, in which she shared her frustrations of motherhood.  I can so relate, and while I try to keep this space of mine focusing on the positive, I would be remiss if I didn’t speak honestly that I am struggling through a difficult patch right now.  It’s the honest truth that all of us mothers struggle on a daily basis. And it’s okay to struggle.  I just have to remember that “this too shall pass.” Words I think I should just have tattooed on my forehead. I need to remind myself that yes, sometimes life is struggle.  And that some days it isn’t.   It’s the attachment to the concept of happiness that makes it so difficult.  How can it be so simple?  I love this quote by Arnold H. Glasgow: “Nothing lasts forever, not even your troubles.”

Remember my word of the year? Mindfulness. It seems I fell off the wagon and I need to get back on.

Mindfulness is the aware, balanced acceptance of the present experience.  It isn’t more complicated than that. It is opening to or receiving the present moment, pleasant or unpleasant, just as it is, without either clinging to it or rejecting it. –Sylvia Boorstein

I made these quills today for a birthday party we will be attending this weekend.  Nothing like waking up one morning, deciding to make quills, then watching a few videos, raiding the craft stash for feathers, and then making them.  All in the span of about an hour.

Homemade organic blueberry jam.

Our new veggie patch, which is still a work in progress.

My first ever visit to the feed store. So much fun!

Reading, reading, reading.

Knitting this sweater.  For me.

Clouds.

Flame vine in full bloom, and full of bees.

Baking gluten free chocolate chip coconut donuts for my (almost) seven year old.

Also, this Madeline Peyroux song finds itself playing constantly in my car.  It is so perfect it nearly breaks my heart. Translation here.

“Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.”  ~Confucius

Happy weekend, friends.

Yesterday, as the Daddy Monkey was tucking the kids into bed, I stepped into our back yard to enjoy a glass of wine and watch the three small owls that have appeared every evening for the past few weeks. Each night at dusk, they call to each other, fly from tree to tree, and eat lizards and bugs.

Soon after, The Daddy joined me, and one of the owls landed on a branch about ten feet in front of us.  She had a loose feather on one of her wings, and we could see it sticking out.  I said to The Daddy, “If only that feather would fall out, I would the the happiest person alive.”

The Daddy, in way of a reply, said to the owl, “Owl, why don’t you drop that feather?”

A few minutes later, the bird flew across the yard, swooping down about two feet from my head!  She landed on a tree behind us.  I turned around and watched her for a few more minutes. Then she flew off, out of our yard, dropping the feather.

I could not stop smiling. And it got me thinking.  The last time I saw these small owls in our yard was when The Girl was still swimming around in my belly, three years ago.  I did some research, and The Owl is a symbol of death and rebirth, and also of wisdom.  The last time these birds appeared, I had lots to let go of, and much to learn.

Today, I am far happier and perhaps a bit wiser, than when these birds first appeared to me. And the magic of last night’s experience lingers.

A few years ago, The Daddy Monkey and I moved into the smallest of our home’s bedrooms, the room that was once The Boy’s nursery.  When we had to switch bedrooms around years ago, we found ourselves hastily moving into a periwinkle blue room.  Years later, the same art and belly casts still hung on the wall.  It was time for a serious update.

While I tend to like a lot of color when it comes to interiors, the mama in me yearned for a pale, neutral, adult space.  I painted the room a pale, pale gray.  And ten weeks ago, I began sewing a new quilt to replace our old one which was in sad shape.

Here it is at last.  I had the idea for this quilt years ago, as The Snail and I browsed the local quilting shop.  Several years later, and after ten weeks of stitching, it’s on my bed.

I wanted this quilt to be all about texture.  I think the all-white theme does a good job in keeping the quilt and all its doily-ness from being too cutesy.  I raided my stash for most of the fabric, and I would say I spent only about $40 on extra batting, a few new pieces of fabric, and the doilies. The top was pieced in a quilt-as-you go method that can be found in the book Patchwork Style by Suzuko Koseki.  I completely improvised the design as I went along.   The back is made of a king size sheet I found at a thrift shop, with a small strip pieced in to give it the length I needed.

I really love how the white quilt makes this tiny bedroom look a bit bigger.

I still need art for the walls and I can’t decide what direction I want to go on that–if I want to keep it neutral, or go for some color.  But for now, it’s a haven for my tired eyes and body at the end of the day.  A space just for me.