I'm alive. I know you all thought I must have passed on sometime last summer, or early autumn, when it had been months since my last post. But tonight, nearly a year to the day since my last post, I assure you that I am alive and well. Well...I'm alive. Let me tell you that it has taken some time for me to get used to living back in Illinois, in the country, a good fifteen minutes away from any civilization. Most days, I love it. Some days, I don't.
Take, for instance, the day when hubby was out-of-country for work travel, and I decided to mow the lawn for him as a surprise. Never mind that it's been a good three years since I sat on a riding mower; I was determined to do this. After all, my six-year-old drives the mowers at my in-laws' all the time. Surely he could help me figure out the one sitting in the dusty pole barn at the top of the hill. Never mind that I knew-yes,
knew- that the shed was full of mice. I am woman, hear me roar. I was going to do this. So, I called my mom and she came over to keep the kids entertained inside while I mowed. I took my Buddy with me up the hill, and we nearly tripped over a snake at the entrance. Not a big deal. I don't like snakes, but hey, they eat mice. I got a stick and flung him a little ways away so we could go inside in peace. I kicked the mower a few times to make sure that there are no little critters hiding inside; after all, when the renters were
using it beating it to death, mice made a home under the hood more than one time. No evil critters scurried out, so I figured we were in the clear. That was my first mistake. As I sat down, I noticed a big
poof of foam come out from under the seat. About two seconds later, a mouse ran out-RIGHT UNDER MY SEAT-and, in my son's words, "lunged at" him and ran away to hide wherever it is that those little devils hide until they see me and then they run out and scare me half to death. I screamed, my son screamed (poor kid, hubby says I'm making him into a wuss), and we ran out of the shed. Quickly. I tell you what, I haven't moved that fast in many a year. Once I got over my initial case of heebie-jeebies, we got up our courage and decided that the coast must be clear, because what stupid mouse would stay in the seat and watch its partner in crime run to safety? We must have hit the jackpot on stupid mice, because-yes, you guessed it-as soon as I sat down again, ANOTHER mouse ran out. Repeat earlier scene of running and screaming. Repeat earlier scene of heebie-jeebies and talking myself into trying a third time. (After reading this post, one could never say that I'm undetermined.) This time, there was much kicking, seat-checking, and praying, and finally, when I sat down, nothing ran out. My son (remember, he's six) gave me the instructions on how to start it up, and I followed them to a "T". Unfortunately, what he didn't know about this particular mower is that there is a very specific combination having to do with the throttle, choke, and how to push and pull which one when. Confused? So was I. Anyway, after about five tries, I gave up. Instead of
roar, I was saying,
meow, and running back to my mommy in the house.
Which reminds me...I'm in the market for a couple of kittens.
But, alas, lest you think I hate my life...
The days I love it far outnumber the days I don't. These are some of the memories that we have made as a family already in the short three months we've been back on our little homestead:
- filling our bird feeder and watching new birds come every morning-gold finches, indigo buntings, cardinals, rose-breasted grosbeaks, sparrows, purple finches, and we've even seen an oriole!
- catching lightening bugs in our pajamas after dark (we didn't have these in western Nebraska-what a treat to see the delight on my kids' faces as we experienced this for the first time together!)
- eating popsicles and ice cream treats out on our deck after swimming in the kiddie pool
- planting and watering eleven new fruit trees in our "pasture"
- washing the van with the hose and sponges out in our driveway
- jumping on the trampoline and spraying each other with the hose
- watching the construction on our new addition take place day by day
- dressing in long sleeves and long pants and picking black raspberries and blackberries out in our woods
- standing on the deck and looking up at the stars after it's dark-and able to see every single one (okay, this memory is just me and hubby, but it counts)
...and these are just the memories we have made
here, in our own home. There are many, many more that we have made with family and friends. God has blessed us abundantly, and for that reason, I have changed the name of the blog to "Five Acre Dream." It really is our dream to live in the country, raise a gaggle of kids (how appropriate; I really do feel like a mama goose some days), grow/raise our own food, daily love Jesus more, and to minister to others along the way. And this is only the beginning.
