the beauty of loss

I share these photos because even in our heartbreak and loss we saw the beauty and we want you to as well.

The evening before Andy died there was a song circle outside our bedroom window.  Beautiful voices of friends and family helping Andy find his way.

And in the morning after he passed we lovingly prepared our cabin to hold his body for two days and our farm to receive visitors to say goodbye.  An around the clock vigil was set up with friends and family taking shifts sitting inside the cabin and also outside at a fire that continuously burned.

And then food arrived and tents to protect from the rain and so many children and friends.  In the midst of deep ache there was comfort in our surroundings.  The girls and I walked many times from cabin to fire to house and back again.  Always held.

And on the last morning the beautiful box that Andy’s dear friends had built arrived and we placed him in it with cedar and pine and so many beautiful flowers and small tokens of love.

And as the children sang and collected more flowers his body was carried up the hill behind our house to the place his dad and brothers had dug one shovelful at a time.

And beautiful words were said, and another song was sung, and we took turns tossing sacred earth into the hole. And we stood in a circle and looked inward at each other and recognized that Andy was now there in each of us, and we turned outward and looked beyond at the greatness of nature that is now Andy.  And then out of nowhere the fawn appeared. 

Our hearts have much healing ahead but please know that each and every one of you who has held and supported us will never be forgotten.  Your comfort is felt.  We love you so.

wild rice

For several years now we’ve been joining friends for a weekend of harvesting wild rice in the north,(Well, except for those couple of years when Andy wasn’t up for it.  That stays fresh in our minds and made the trip and time all the more beautiful this year). 

Generally the ladies stay behind and tend camp and rice.  That means cooking, collecting firewood, tending the children and turning the rice for drying.  The guys head out on the water for the long, hot labor of knocking rice into the boat for hours and hours.  Usually I’m not much for “typical gender roles” such as these, but somehow knowing that this is how it’s been done for thousands of years (or more) makes it feel a little bit magical.  It certainly takes a village, and the role the women played in gathering rice was not little.  Keeping the fire, the village fed, and the rice drying was just as important (and sometimes difficult) as harvesting the rice itself.  In today’s world it feels good to step back, take that role, and feel part of this community effort.  And as a bonus we’ll enjoy pounds and pounds of beautiful wild rice all winter long.

Ricing season solidly signals the end of summer.  We return home to crisp cold weather, loads of tomatoes to process and the start of a new year of (home) school.  Blessings on the fall.

June

Still no news from Mayo but in the meantime we are filling our moments with recitals and the smell of late-blooming lilacs outside our bedroom windows and more strawberries than we can even eat in one sitting. 

While we feel the shadow of cancer looming we are sure not to miss the rainbow (double!) when it ends right in our own pasture.

I’m not sure what else to say.  News must be coming soon.  We try not to be waiting, but still we are.

But these moments of waiting don’t go unnoticed and they are full of beauty and love.  We hope yours are too.

 

The last two weeks have been busy.  Several trips to Mayo clinic but also Easter egg dying, plenty of yard work, sheep shearing, play dates, school projects, birthday parties and Earth Day road clean up too.

It’s funny how even with the knowledge that the time has come again to do something decisive about this cancer, we can go about out days holding fear and contentment together as one.  After two and half years it’s difficult to separate the two.  I’ve learned to live with both.

Tuesday we go back to Mayo and Andy will have surgery to remove one of the lung tumors for DNA sequencing in hopes of finding a trial drug.  We expect the surgery to go smoothly and the recovery to be fairly quick.  Then we wait on testing results.  We’ll keep you posted.

In the meantime we’ll continue to love this life.  Because waiting really doesn’t make sense when what we have is the moment now.

rice camp

For several years Andy has helped a friend harvest wild rice up north.  Usually the girls and I hang out back at camp with kids and whoever is not ricing at the moment.  Andy loves the labor, being on the water, knocking the rice in the boat and the satisfaction of seeing it all drying on tarps.  He loves the community of ricers and learning the skill.  We also love the sweet share of rice we get for the winter!

Last year we were in the depths of chemo and could not make the trip.  This year we went without hesitation.  Three days and nights of playing with friends, jumping in the water, sitting around the fire, catching leopard frogs by the tens, and falling asleep to the deep hooting of the barred owl, left us exhausted but ever so thankful.

Thankful for this community of caring friends, for the sweet clear waters of the north, for late night conversations around the fire and for the continual opportunity to celebrate being together.

merry

 

Our days were merry and bright.  We pulled off our solstice tradition (handmade flannel jammies, every candle in the house and the very un-winter-once-per-year artichoke dinner).  Santa was good to them, we visited with family and friends, took a beautiful hike along the Kickapoo, and she lost her very first tooth!  What a weekend.

But best of all, of course, was the blessing of Andy’s health and healing this Christmas.  Of us, here together, still holding love and hope. 

right now

We are still hearing the sweet music of two girls who are so excited they can now play tunes together.  And remembering a lovely weekend with good friends.

We are recovering from the news that Andy’s round of treatment, scheduled for this week, is delayed until next week due to a small infection around his port (this is the device that was installed under his skin through which he can receive chemo.  I always think it sounds like where the spaceship should land.  Maybe it does.)  The infection is being watched closely and he is on antibiotics, of course.

We are making loads of kimchi and packing it away for winter.

We are watching as Iris embraces mornings of more formal learning, and enjoying her thirst for information now that reading has become easy.  

We are coaxing Mae into homeschool Kindergarten even though she is still so distracted by the cat.

We are occasionally staying up late to watch really stupid movies that make us laugh.

We are usually going to bed really early because we are exhausted by everything and want to get up before daylight to meditate, read, write and focus for the day.

We are enjoying Andy’s health, energy and well being this week.  We are allowing it to lift our hearts and spirits and pull us forward.

 

Among many things we learned at the Block Center in Chicago was that the natural substance melatonin can play a role in cancer recovery as a hormone that regulates sleep cycles and as a powerful antioxidant.  They recommended that Andy add tart cherry concentrate to his diet as tart cherries are known to be melatonin-rich. 

And as these things seem to go, we returned home to a couple of trees just teeming with tart cherries.  The robins were already making a dent so we employed the girls and were able to get several gallons (pitted even!) in the freezer. 

It feels like in these days of vibrant growth, everywhere we turn are the foods and herbs that Andy most needs.  No one thing is right, but together they make a powerful package that is giving him strength.

Andy had his second treatment yesterday.  All went well with the “infusion” (we love that it sounds like a comforting herbal tea).  There is a higher risk of allergic reaction with the drug he received yesterday so we had some trepidation, but he handled it well.  And he continues to feel well today. 

Next week he has “off” because his blood counts will be at their lowest and they want him to rest and rebuild those blood cells to be ready for the next round. 

So that’s what we’ll do.  Rest.  Recover.  One day at a time. 

harvest

We’ve been baking pumpkins, making applesauce, tucking away the kimchi and digging potatoes, celery root and winter radishes.  It’s harvest time!

And she’s been working super hard, this girl, and loving her time playing her violin with friends.  What a sweet treat to top off the harvest day parade with a performance in the park.

Now for a few more days of sun (where are you?) so we can tuck away that garden just a bit more…

and get ready to prop our feet in front of the wood stove with good books, yarn, and cups of tea.  Oh yes, winter is coming! 

at home

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.