Andy’s brother and two children visited us this weekend. Hours and hours were spent in the shop, carving, pounding and carving some more. It was a prefect place to spend a rainy couple of days. The kids had a blast, Andy and Matt got to hang out, and I did plenty of knitting by the fire. Sweetness.
Andy goes on weekend retreats. To recharge, ski, center himself. The girls and I have quiet days at home. I knit by the fire while they play and draw. Stitch by stitch I see this sweater becoming. It wasn’t long ago that I didn’t have the patience or the presence for this kind of slow, stitch by stitch kind of work. At least for something as time consuming as a sweater. I hurried and made mistakes and abandoned things before they were done. But now. Now these moments are everything. I have found that I can relish each millimeter of yarn as it wraps around the needle and is slipped off. The texture of the yarn through my fingers changes as it slides along, thin then thick, then thin again. I notice that mistakes only happen when my thoughts float away. Back here with this garment appearing one stitch at a time, all is well.
We went to Mayo again last week. We spoke to a surgeon there who believes he can remove tumors from Andy’s left lung safely and well. Tumors would remain in the right lung but the material from the left lung could be sent off for genetic analysis in hopes of finding a clinical trial for Andy. Many subtle options were given as to when the surgery can happen, how it should happen, if it should happen and we are trying to sort it all out. We’ll meet with the oncologist at Mayo in a couple of weeks and try to make some final decisions. In the meantime Andy camps out under clear winter skies with a close friend, carves to his heart’s content, enchants the kids with studies of Greek mythology and teaches skiing to a pack of them each Thursday.
And I find myself strangely settled. Fear and worry have found a place that doesn’t ride front and center. I remember the rawness with a kind of gratitude that can come in the slowness of time unfolding. I can know that the future is as uncertain as ever. But I can be here now. I guess that’s something I’ve always wanted.
Andy continues his love of spoon carving and last weekend at the Driftless Folk School spoon gathering, the girls got into it too. It was sweet to watch. Two days of carving, listening in as the adults talked (and talked) about carving, taking a break to play with friends and carving some more. On the last afternoon the carvers gathered in a big circle, each with a spoon blank. Everyone began carving a spoon and then every ten minutes they would pass it to the person to their left. That went on for over an hour and then when they called “time” you passed once more and that was the spoon you got to keep. Iris really enjoyed her part in that carving circle and ended up with the sweet heart spoon. You can see it in the photo of the circle of spoons.
It felt like a great kick-off to the school year. A weekend of eagerly leaning into learning something new. And now we are also playing math games, making fall art, reading, reading, reading and much more. It’s so fun to school with these girls!
The week ahead brings a birthday celebration (10!) and visits with family and friends. We’ll soak up each moment just like we do these days of late summer sunshine. Andy is feeling well and our hearts are positive. His next scan comes soon too. Amid the worry there is still so much love and joy that carry us along.
The past few days the kids have been sick. It’s been lots of laying on the couch, stories by the fire, trying to get her to drink tea and early to bed. Andy and I haven’t gotten it so far, but we know how they feel. Spent.
Someone recently, understanding us, likened it all again to a marathon. You know the analogy: run on adrenaline, don’t feel any pain and injuries during the race, find yourself hurting like hell on the other side of the finish line.
By no means are we at the “finish line”, I know that. But still some arbitrary line has been drawn on the track. The end of treatment. And suddenly what seems like it could be a celebration instead feels like exhaustion and a year’s worth aches holding court in your body and mind. I think the girls feel that too.
While I sit with it and try to let it just be what it is, I watch Andy get his carving tools out again for the first time in 9 months and that feels like a little bit of salve for these bodies and minds that have been running long enough.
We worked on projects old and new. We roasted cauliflower and garlic and made warming chai tea. I got an amazing Iris/Elsa spa treatment, we snuggled kittens by the fire, we read lots, we watched a really great movie (watch it with your kids!), we had dinner with friends.
That’s really all there is right now. One day at a time. Focusing on healing and being well.
Thinking about symmetry while building cool creatures and making designs with pattern blocks.
Learning to think through design ideas, combinations of colors and working to avoid poking your other fingers while needle felting provided hours of good challenge.
We feel honored to learn by their sides and always look forward to the next project, adventure, and challenge. I wonder what it will be tomorrow?
We spent the long weekend at home. Though it certainly had it’s challenges (sibling bickering, practice meltdowns, parent meltdowns…I won’t go on…), looking back over the weekend of photos, I realize we still had plenty of sweetness. Starting with 300 pounds of honey! Don’t worry, most of it is for Grampy.
The girls are really digging the oil pastels and turning out some lovely work with them.
Two very detailed “set-ups” held their attention for hours.
As did these little cuties.
Oh and we can’t forget the other new addition to our farm. Henrietta, merrily sitting on 17 eggs. We traded her for some pork. Oh my.
Andy finished up some sweet benches (to go with the matching tables, not pictured) for the folk school.
We put up 32 pints of salsa and picked and ate a bowlful of wild plums.
We took a long ride
and dried plenty of herbs for winter’s medicine.
That will do. Happy Monday all.
Last week was a really full week.
It started off with a rockin’ home school square dance during which Iris got to play a tune with the band,
followed by an afternoon of more peg people crafting (apparently one can never have too many peg people),
followed by another performance at a local community meal during which she got to play with an ensemble, (wow, cellos and violins do sound amazing together),
followed by a really crazy hailing thunderstorm which brought torrents of water down our valley and mounded up piles of hail to play in,
followed by a beautiful but-c’mon-really? late in the season snowstorm,
followed by baby ducks in the tub.
That’s about enough excitement for a bit. We’ll take it easy for a few days now and just wait this little ol’ spring out. She’s comin’, the peepers and red-wings say so.
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