Home Places

The Front Porch View

The Home Place.

  

It's a phrase I've heard used in lots of different ways, but around here it's usually the place where your people started in this country.

They're rarely fancy. But I like to think of them as rich in ways that others can't imagine.

In 1880 the Government declared the Frontier closed. But on April 19th, 1882 the Cheyenne-Arapaho Opening began at 12 noon.  There are all sorts of tidbits about how cattlemen put out a lot of propaganda convincing people that the soil wouldn't grow anything but rattlesnakes, and rumors of a Cheyenne uprising that ran off several families. It's an interesting piece of history. Often sad and frustrating, like a lot of U.S. history. Like ALL history, I suppose.

My Home Place is in Washita County, Oklahoma and it was secured during that land run. I haven't uncovered yet who the runners were, but I hope to know soon. It was an exciting time in history for many folks who were strong enough to head West with nothing to make their start. I know that my grandpa was born out there. That he and his twin brother argued like the dickens and made it into the local history books with the nicknames the schoolmaster gave them. I don't know why fighting like the Dutch and Irish is significant, but My Grandpa Dutch and my Uncle Irish wore those labels their whole lives.

I know that I spent wild, amazing summers there pretending to be a pioneer. I wore bonnets and old dresses and rode my horse up and down the hills saying things like, 

"It looks like a fair piece of land. Let's build our soddy here."   

"I hate this bonnet but I sure am glad it will protect my fair complexion, if only my last pair of gloves hadn't fallen to pieces."  

"I think it's scandalous that she's not wearing a corset!"

then

"I'm not plowing this field in one! Pa took sick. If we're gonna get the wheat in I have to make those oxen MOVE."

I'd chew a piece of grass, kick a rock, and say, "If it would just rain a bit..If the hail doesn't flatten the field....If we don't all die of the Influenza, and if the Indians don't kill us then we just might make it another year."

I was a strange and imaginative child who read a lot of Little House and any other historical fiction or biographies I could get my hands on.

These are the things I think of when I think of my Home Place.

Seeing pictures of your mother as a baby in a room you can still stand and laugh in. Knowing that you used to play on the original cast iron cookstove just outside the door. Jumping the large floor grate that covered the gas heat. Cooking stew "all by yourself" and eating it all summer long. The smell of lilac on the breeze and the fascination of the wallpaper in the closet.

Those are Home Place memories.

I remember the first time I saw a turtle in the flower bed by the garden gate. I miss the large trees that used to shade the house. There was a lovely yellow rose bush next to one on the west side that used to shield the squirrels when they came down to steal corn from the chickens.

I'm not sure that there is anything better than sliding between cool, clean sheets after a bath and feeling the soft night breeze wash across your face as you watch stars until you fall asleep.

I know that we all make our own Home Place. I know that my family will always have a Home, even if we don't have a house to put it in. 

But I have always  hoped that someday we could put our Home in the Home Place.

Funks and Beacons

I'm in a funk. I flow in and out of these, like most people seem to. Lately though I am just so deep that I'm finding it hard to snap out of it.

I don't know how these work for other folks, but I think my biggest problem is that I want a different life than I have.

One where the children magically rise in the morning and greet me with smiles as they walk gracefully to the table to break their fast with fresh fruit juice, nourishing grains, and farm fresh milk. If we can have harvested any of that from our land it would be even better.

You know, instead of the toddler running in and leaping onto the bed where her brother and sister are sleeping to jump and sing. Starting the morning with shouts of, "GET OUT!!! I'm still SLEEPING!!" (Although it did only take about 3 minutes before they were all jumping and laughing, then they ran like a herd of elephants into the kitchen to ask for "bread with no crust". Hurried, "tank ooouu"'s before they ran back to jump and scream.....and get crumbs everywhere.)

I just shake my head and move on to find a picture for my chalkboard drawing.

I wish I were creating a space where my children were sitting quietly coloring, or finger knitting, or painting, or any of the lovely magical things that are always spoken of with reverence in Waldorf circles. I just don't seem to be able to bring us around to that life. I'm supposed to be a Beacon. The guiding force behind out family.

I know that planning is the key. That if I can just keep myself ordered and contained then we manage to do a pretty good job of keeping chaos at bay. It's weird though, it's not the chaos that bothers me...well, not our brand of chaos anyways. Our "chaos" is usually that Joie de Vivre that I've mentioned, only it's "contained" inside the house.

Joie de Vivre looks just like Chaos when you place it indoors.

Right now there is a lot of indoor life. It's dreary outside. The good thing about Oklahoma is that winter doesn't last as long as it could if we were located in another part of the world....the hard thing is that winter is full of howling winds that cut to the bone and a decided lack of beauty. I know that there is beauty to be found in the bones of our world. I just wish that the bones here could be graced with a beautiful cloak of snow like they are in other zones. I remember my time in snowy parts with fondness. There is something about snow on the ground that makes the cold okay.

I want to be loving the inner time. Basking in the Warmth that can be found from the staying in and close to each other.

I'm just not finding it right now. I miss my husband. I miss my farm. I miss my life. I don't understand why I can't get myself out of this slump and drag my butt back into the Creation that I know is the only way we have Life as I think I want it.

But then I see that.......

These children are a Wonder.

   They are loud. They are funny. They are sweet.

They throw oranges across the room with delight.

They fight. They love. They laugh. They Live.

Maybe if I could work to be just a little bit more like these wild and crazy goobers things would be okay again.

I want to be a Beacon. To be the one who guides the ship. The safe harbor. All the things that speak to me from the inner work at this time of year.

I just wonder sometimes if that is what my Family is all about.

My Slice of Heaven

The view from the window over the sink at the Farm.

We had to run out there today to pick up our winter coats and check on the place. It made me even more homesick than I was. I found this picture today as I was looking for pics to send to family. Every evening is a new painting for us. The sun sets and the sky blazes until it quiets into pinks and purples before night is allowed to come. It's amazing there.

The night sky is its own wonder. The lack of light pollution provides a clarity that is usually found only in a planetarium. But I get to experience the wonderous natural star show in the way it was originally intended it be enjoyed.

I will pack these homesick feelings away in a day or two. I've had a lot of experience doing that in my lifetime. This isn't so different. I also have only ten months until I get to go home forever.

Then I will revel in that first year of marking the seasons. I will learn the way the sky looks in November, and note how it has changed come January. I know from the 6 months we were able to stay there that the moon will rise and say hello in a different way each night. I know that with each Full Moon I will greet her in another place as I look out at night. Something I've always known that just becomes a part of life out there. I can feel why each moon had a different name. I will become one with the elements  and the changes that we go through each year. The fierce wind of Winter, the heatwaves of Summer, the gentle kiss of Spring, and the sweet, sweet warmth of Autumn. Soon, the skies will be a comfortable friend and I will anticipate the yellow brush of October the same way I begin to look for the daffodils in March.

Being "stuck" in one place is something that I have avoided much of my life.

But right now, I can't wait.