home making

It's been a year now, since we spent our first night in this old farm house. Since we walked the empty rooms, opened doors to empty closets, smiled at each other while sun poured through the windows. It was my 29th birthday. Even empty, this place felt like a home. A few nights ago we walked down the driveway before the sun set. The hills and fields fold into each other and spread in a way that now feels familiar. But the light here is always changing, always shifting our view into something new. The other morning I saw a bald eagle, a pheasant, and a great horned owl out our windows before I even left the house. The birds are coming back. Robins sing from the trees and bushes even as it becomes night, and the assortment of sparrows, finches, and doves continue to raid our bird feeder. I just read Terry Tempest Williams's book Refuge, which my dad left for me after his visit, and it has made me pay more attention to the birds around me. The last few mornings the girls and I sat by our big living room window watching the birdfeeder and looking up the birds we saw in the bird book. Mama, that's a cowbird, Amelia says very seriously with every new bird we see. Our Missoula trip was great. Missoula still feels like home to me in many ways, and I think I will always feel my breathing change to deep, contented breaths when I cross the Clark Fork River on the Higgins Street Bridge. There are not many places as fabulous as Missoula. It's so fun to be there with my girls. The Missoula Children's Museum, where all the cool kids go. A view of the Wilma, Higgins, and rain...all very Missoula We've also spent some time back in the Bitterroot lately. It's strange and a little sad to be back in our funky old house, seeing the trees we planted grow a little bigger in our absence. But it's nice to be able to go back, to still feel at home there. When we moved, we left our chickens behind since we didn't have a coop yet, and we had people to take care of them in the Bitterroot. They are a bunch of old lady chickens and I think they are pretty happy where they are. This is Mildred. She's the boss. Some garlic I missed last summer. Life continues, even when you're not there to watch it. There is something so incredibly raw and beautiful about rhubarb pushing its way out of the ground. Spring continues to creep a little closer. We had our first outdoor meal last week; so what if there's a little bit of snowdrift left... First spring laundry on the line... and evenings that stretch longer with bright, sideways sunlight. The woodpile is nearly gone...and our basement wood storage room is packed full for next year. Really, how many varieties of tomato are enough? The first tiny eggs from our chickens had to be saved and used for decoration... This was my reward for getting out of bed early the other morning; This is Mike, doing what he does in the springtime...but never before on his own land! The boy is excited! Morning coffee with sunrise and frost... Have I mentioned that the light here is incredible? Um...yes?