New Website- Skylark Blue

http://www.skylarkblue.com

Check out my new site- Skylark Blue

I plan to continue writing here, but perhaps not as often.
We shall see.  :)

Graceful Landing has seven years of my heart, so I'm not willing to give that up as of yet.

In the meantime, there's more here!

Skylark

Content copyright © 2016 by Jessa at Graceful Landing

 I have a fondness for naming and nicknaming things.  From my children to animals and places, names help convey my love for them.  (I even named the cute animals on posters hanging from my bedroom walls as a child!)

So naturally, for me, our home and farm has a name.
  It's Skylark- and the name was chosen before a single item graced the blank dirt field it once was.  Chosen for several reasons- partly from the soul connection I felt with Sarah from Patricia MacLachlan's Sarah Plain and Tall series, but mostly because of the skies and larks The Man of the House and I love so dearly.

Idaho skies are amazing.....

 

...and meadowlarks with their beauty and sweet song lift our spirits.

 Years ago, renting a home on another farm, The Man of the House and I would arise early while our babies slept, slip out onto the porch and sit in silence together, just listening to the meadowlarks.  It was a grand way to begin a summer morning, before our daily work began.


That's the beauty of larks- they're the first birds I hear in the early morning hours, happily proclaiming the joys of spring and summer. 

Content copyright © 2016 by Jessa at Graceful Landing

 They happen to be 'morning people,' as am I and with their sunny yellow plumage, invoke cheerfulness simply by sight.

So Skylark it was from the beginning and Skylark it is.  Whatever we make of our home, as well as our family, it's through hard work, perseverance, loads of love, faith and enormous gratitude.

Thank you Heavenly Father, for the beauty of nature and for the blessing it is upon the soul.
Thank you for our home.

Writing My Name

“You don’t have to love this land,” said Maggie.  "But if you don’t love it, you  won’t survive.  Jacob’s right. You have to write your name in the land to live here.” Sarah didn’t speak. She took a handful of dry prairie grass in her hands, letting it crumble through her fingers.  Then she walked away from us, through the dried grass, out onto the brown prairie that stretched all the way to the sky.  She stood there all alone until Papa went to tell her it was time to go home. 
-From the book 'Skylark'

I've thought a lot through the years about Sarah and her inner turmoil: Leaving behind her green home by the ocean, giving up cool climates and scores of trees.  Embracing her life on the dry prairie in order to raise a family, have a place that was hers and to make a good home. 
We have a lot in common.
I wrote some of my thoughts about her here.

Sarah chose to write her name in the land.  
So do I.

Life's been busy, but while out planting my garden (beneath a full moon rising in the east) and without fanfare, I wrote it.  

Murphy's Law

When I was a little girl, my mother had a poster hanging in our downstairs bathroom.  It was a Murphy's Law poster.
Mom joked that guests would spend extra time in that bathroom, reading it.

I remember being in awe of the wisdom it contained.  For example:
"You always find something in the last place you look"


Others I enjoyed were:

"Beauty is only skin deep.  Ugly goes to the bone"

"Never play leapfrog with a unicorn."

"A bird in hand is safer than one overhead."

"A shortcut is the longest distance between two points."

"The chance of a piece of bread falling with the buttered side down is directly proportional to the cost of the carpet."

I've since realized, of course, that there are many more such laws.
I experienced one of them- probably my least favorite- yesterday.
It goes like this:

"Unexpected company will only arrive when your house is a mess."

I've found this to be all too true.

When my home is sparkling and humming with the joyful noises of dishwasher and dryer (I find them joyful, anyway), no one 'stops by.' 
When our day is lagging  or we've endured a week of snow and children are running around with uncombed hair, pajamas till noon and my kitchen smells like the refrigerator needs cleaned out...the doorbell rings.

Has anyone else had this happen?

Luckily, I'm learning to go with the flow and have realized that other women have days like this too.  

Years ago, as a young mother, I was visiting a new friend.  I was impressed by the fact that her couch was covered in clean laundry- waiting to be folded, dishes in the sink and kids' toys everywhere.  Things I took great pains to clean or hide if company arrived.  ( I was even instructed by another friend to hide my dirty dishes in the oven.  Something I tried once or twice, but forgot them until later when I preheated the oven for dinner!) 
This friend's home made me feel relaxed.  
A few hours later, her husband arrived home from work.  As he walked in, I saw him looking around at the mess.  Without missing a beat and in all seriousness, my friend said, "Honey!  Did you hear about the tornado on the news?!"  He looked confused (we lived in Oregon) and replied that he hadn't.  She said, "You didn't hear about it?!  Why, it swept right through our home!"   We all laughed and I realized that her relaxed humor was something I desperately needed to incorporate in my life.  

I can't say that I've always taken that lesson to heart.  My husband and I both struggle to not be Type A personalities.   We just care TOO much.  I aspire to be the type of mom whose home is teeming with science projects, children's critters and artwork .  We do tend to have books on most flat surfaces as well as children's objects.  But, because we've had our house (s) on the market 21 months out of the past 4 years, I tend to slip back into the stressful habit of perfectionism. 
Not good....nor is it fun. 

But, I know that when our home sells and we are truly settled once more, I will embrace wholeheartedly the relaxed atmosphere that I crave. 
As a teen I once declared that when I was a mother, my kitchen floor would never crunch.  So stated by the oldest daughter of six children; with younger siblings who were careless with cereal on school mornings!
When settled again, I may just pour an entire box on the floor and, following the example of Sarah Wheaton in 'Skylark', write my name in it.

I'm sure there would be grins on the faces of my children, not to mention myself.  It's something I look forward to with relish.