Sunday, March 15, 2009

sacred life sunday: serenity

For the last several months (maybe for even over a year now) I've had this love/hate relationship with the 1911 square feet of space that I call My House. Being its mistress, I mean.

We (the children and I, and Eric when he's home with us) spend our days living in this house fully. We eat, we grow, we explode, we explore, we track in and trek through, we meld and melt. We do 92% of our Living in this house.
And our kind of living is messy.

I clean. I move to another room, and the first one is in shambles when I pass through the next time.
This has been my focus for the last several months.
That's It's Never Done. That it's never even close to done.
That I'm fighting (scratching and clawing, it seems most times) my way to the top and I only end up falling further down into the abyss.
Might seem humorous.
Maybe it is.
Not while one is in the Throes of Despair, however.

Since this subject is so much on my mind lately (it really is, it seems that so much of my life revolves around this issue) I mentioned the other day off-handedly that I didn't think this house had ever been clean all at once.
Every room. Inside every kitchen cupboard. The silverware tray. The linen drawers and cabinets. Every closet. Under every sink. Every dresser drawer. Every wall. Every door, every door frame, every junk drawer, every desk drawer, every game shelf, every baseboard, bookshelf, refrigerator compartment, picture frame, pair of shorts, paint brush, curtain, window, window sill, toy box, pillow, and removable couch cover.
I fight a daily battle. I want my house clean. "My house is never clean all at once," I said to my friend, not letting on that this is a deep, dark confession of my Spirit.
"Yeah, but it stays clean for a long time when it's done," replied my friend Sam. Blithely. Off-handedly.
To the rescue.

Is it true? I think.
Is it really possible?
Is it possible to have every surface and subsurface clean inside this entire house?

That's all it took for me to change my mind.
Instead of battling...
I am simply doing it.

I started five days ago.
I am thrilled to say that I am succeeding in taming and loving this place.
I'm keeping a running list, and feel so elated when I can cross something off.
I know that it's so clean. That there isn't a thing I could have possibly done to make it moreso. Because if it could have been cleaned and shined (and it all can) then it was.
The surprising (astounding, really) thing is... that four and five days later, the rooms that have been done are still done.
Just like that.
All by themselves.

The cleaning itself isn't happening on its own.
It's in my focus, to be sure.
This project has been given top priority.

"You're always cleaning..." complained my friend the other day when I said we couldn't go play, I had things to do.
"Yeah, but this is different," I said. This time I'm doing it out of Love, instead of out of fear and despair-- and I am succeeding.

The whole thing probably seems crazy.
Crazy that the well-being of one's Soul would have anything to do with the cupboard under the kitchen sink being sparkly and organized.

But that's the way it lies, for me.
Perfectly, splendidly organized.
And Sparkly.

In this (figurative and physical) space, I can fly.
I can smile.
I can rest,
and I can Breathe.

I can breathe.

news in the news

We received our little township newspaper yesterday and in it is an article on chickens. It seems that Salt Lake City Unincorporated has received requests from folks to be allowed to raise poultry, in the name of Sustainable Living.
How cool is that???
The county mayor's office replied that they "Support strategies that encourage sustainable living..." and that they've provided propositional drafts to the community councils.

Eric and I have been talking the last few weeks about chickens again.
Last year we decided against it, but this year his interest in living off the land (small area such as it is) has tenfolded.
I think chickens (for eggs) are definitely in our future.

cluck cluck.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

the list

The big one. The spring-green one.
The one that never really got done last year,
the one where every surface and sub-surface is cleaned and every item every where is handled, considered, and judged.
Just because sometimes I like to make a list.
(I always like to, I just don't do it often because I'm not kind to myself or very understanding when/if I don't get it all done in five minutes.)

Madd's room
Trev's room :)
Hallway -- which of course includes scrubbing walls, door jams, and cleaning out the linen cabinet and hall drawers. :)
Kitchen (better allow two or three days for this one, since I'm including the fridge, stove, cupboards and pantry.)
Laundry Area and other hallway
my Bedroom
Stairs and downstairs hall (which includes painting over the timeline so we can start over. woohoo!
Rumpus Room including cleaning out my craft supply closet
my room
and the second Bathroom

That's everything.
Most rooms are an all-day job.
I'm giving myself through March!

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

one... two.... three!

have you started spring cleaning, yet?

I'm seriously thinking of beginning the children's bedrooms today....

Tuesday, March 03, 2009


The first bit of Must Do garden work has been completed.

Today I have a need for opening the doors and windows (even if only halfway, it's mighty windy at the moment) to stir and liven the house with the warm spring wind.

Shining, airing, scrubbing and mopping feel like old and welcome friends.

On to it, then.

Monday, March 02, 2009


have I told you of the Great Mystery?

There is a spot a few steps outside my back door, near the rose patio, that is The Sweetest Spot In The Land.

Whenever I walk past this spot while doing my outside chores, I inevitably stop and backtrack back to it, and stop to stand and breathe that air into every part of me.

It's the sweetest of sweet... it's Promises and rebirth and renewal and blossoms and Flora.

Something magical is going on in that spot.

Something like Springtime.

Sunday, March 01, 2009

the book

My father in law (Bill... I have two) gave me a book for Christmas.

It's called The Gardener's Journal - An Old-Fashioned Keepbook.

And it is as romantic as the name implies.

It's a garden journal with Victorian quotes and pictures.
It has pages for Our Garden History, winter, spring, summer and fall notes, and beautifully decorated graphing squares - pages and pages of them.

I can't tell you how much I love this book.

Yesterday I knew though it was cold outside, I wanted to work on the Butterfly/Faery Garden.

So I grabbed my garden books - some mundane, and some magickal - and a glass of tea and sat in the sun with my journal.

How lovely it was!
I contemplated what needed to be moved from and into the faery garden, watched the birds flit about, noted the greening of the grass, watched my daughter play.

I made my first entry into that journal.

And because of it - working in the faery garden - I was nose to earth.
I found yarrow plants that were no more than an inch wide. I discovered lemon balm (lemon balm is coming up everywhere, now... but I don't mind, it's one of my Favorite Things). I found echinacea that just needed to be dusted off a bit in order to be seen - so tiny also, was it.

I took out some of the over-grown peppermint, and moved it to where it'd be welcome and happy - to the rose garden. Right where the mint needed to go (as there is no catnip there, and this particular rose is often plaqued with aphids) I found clover in that exact spot. Clover was on my list of new things to bring in for the butterflies. Imagine that.

So the rocks are lying to the north where they belong -resituated, standing tall with the yarrow.
Rocks to shelter the butterflies, to encourage them to rest in the sun, and for the fey to play their games of hide-and-seek.
To the west are the shasta daisies, betony (lamb's ear) and a large abilone shell that soon shall hold water, inviting the butterflies and fairies to splash as they will.
To the south is a bit of tall red-hot poker and cinquefoil, and the toad-stool Inn. To the east grows the peppermint, echinacea, lemon balm, and clover.

It the center of the garden is part of an old tree stump. It's been the center of this small garden for a few years. On it sits a fading faery with a skirt full of birdseed.

The garden is finished. At least for now.

And upon my pages are sketches of Who Lives Where, and notes and notes of what makes the fey and butterflies smile.

It's a fine beginning.