Lennon loves our new little bird watching table at the window, too.

I'm still recovering from my cold (so please have mercy with me and this sorry post), but at least I made it over to the supermarket early yesterday morning. Not the supermarket here in town--nooOOOoooo-- for we don't have one. We did have a tiny ancient market when we first moved here in June, but in August they closed for--cough, cough--six weeks (they said) while their new building across the street could be finished. They emptied all their shelves and disappeared.

Well, that was at least nine weeks ago (ten? eleven?).

And at first, that also meant that our one and only gas pump in town became non-usable since they'd also operated that. But a couple weeks later (and probably a million complaints later since we were out here in Boonieville with no groceries and no gas) a different group of people took over the little store and the gas pump. Except about the only groceries they have are snacks, sodas, bread, and coffee (stuff we're told America runs on). But at least we've been able to buy gas here in town in a pinch. (And technically, our one and only major chain store, Rite-Aid, does carry a few groceries. Bad-for-you ones mostly. At we-can-rob-you-freely-because-we're-all-you've-got,Sucker prices.

Sometimes it's so hard not to complain. And I'm afraid I've been doing a whole lot of complaining lately around here. Drats. (Those eternally-moaning Israelites of the Old Testament have been heavy on my mind... and the consequences of their whining.)

And I'm still waitin' for that Simple Country Life to start kickin' in. :)

Of Wishers and Such

"If wishes were horses, beggars would ride." I used to say that to Naomi a lot, probably because my own mother used to say it to me.

I try not to become bug-eyed impatient with people who just loll around wishing their lives would change... wishing for pretty things or money or new friends or for a president who will turn our Country into a 1950's Happy Place (good luck, I'm thinkin' lately, with that last one).

Wishers have always made me nuts. Especially the times I've morphed into one of them.

Even as a child I realized that if you want something, well, you can create it! You can either work for money to buy things or you can work to win and woo a friend. Or you can use your imagination--and your hands-- to create something with stuff you already own. You can read books or watch movies or Life to become inspired and you can discover small ways to reach big heights.

The only insurmountable problem in Life is when your imagination is broken, soured or nonexistent. At least, that's how I've always felt deep inside.

Not that I've always lived by that. Nope, I've had my months of self-pity, my low, low, low times when my own imagination felt broken or too weary to even try. Times when I laid around hoping the world outside of me would suddenly meet the needs growing on the inside of me. But eventually God or others or my own spirit would yank me out of those pitiful places and set me back on solid ground.

And then the dreaming would begin again, the envisioning, the planning and soon, the work to make it all happen.

It's pretty useless to sit upon your couch waiting for your daily life to become better. Trust me. I know. Most often, better moments and better days are as close as your very imagination right there inside your own head--and heart.

What remains is to keep that imagination in good repair with much use.

Of Coat Closets and Bliss

So as a young girl I always (for who knows what reason?) noticed the coat closets in old black and white movies such as Blondie and Father of the Bride (with Spencer Tracy). I even noticed them in tv shows like Hazel and such.

For me, there's just something about an old coat closet in the living room or entryway. There's something, well, elegant or extravagant about a whole specific place to store your coats and even the vacuum cleaner.

Some things just cannot be explained. (Did I ever tell you I love the shows, Stargate and Stargate Atlantis? Try explaining that--I dare you.)

Well, we moved to this ancient farmhouse last summer and hooray! Finally I had my real-live coat closet. A nice spacious one behind a lovely paneled door.

But razzlefrats! Because we no longer have a basement where you can actually store things (because it's so wet down there), we had to cram Tom's musical paraphernalia inside the coat closet, including one large electronic piano in a huge black case. And we had to remove the pole upon which to hang coats, not that there was even room for a coat in there. Immediately it became the type of closet you hesitate to open lest its contents come pouring out upon your head.



Phooey.

But alas! Last week Tom sold that huge old (heavy, heavy) electronic piano. "The Albatross" as I'd not so affectionately growled at it for years. And not only did that mean some extra money (yay!) it also meant that--oh happy day--there is actually room for our coats inside our coat closet now.

I feel just like Blondie and the Banks family and Hazel and all the rest. And if the day ever arrives when I can fit our vacuum cleaner in there, well, look out. I may just go out of my mind. In a good way. Truly, the wait for dreams to come true is always, always worth it. At least, that is what I've found.



***

Is there something you consider elegant which most other people wouldn't?

***

Thanks so much to each of you who sent me get well wishes--I appreciate them so much! My strength began returning last night and now if I could just speak without coughing....

Oh, and to each of you who signed up as followers of this blog--a special thanks, as well. It delights me to see your tiny faces right there on my front page... like a whole little group of encouragers. :)

Third day in bed and all is not well. Debra's not well, that is.

Sigh. Not that there's ever a peachy time to have a cold, but this is one bad time. After my mom left I took two days off to regroup, relax, rethink and just about every other "re" word, then just as I'd determined to organize my entire life around here-- ZAP! Here came this annoying cold.

The past four weeks I've been inundated with tests. Tests, tests, tests. You know, little things going wrong and my not feeling a heck of a lot of Grace to deal with them... which makes me tense... which makes all these tests feel much worse than they really are.

Perhaps (I'm thinking) God is reminding me that I need to live on His time schedule, not mine. I need to ask that my way of doing and being be more like Heaven's, you know, slower, calmer and with not a smidgen of impatience.

Rather like I imagine (from movies and books) Southern Belles and their leisurely way of going about their days--with Grace and composure and a huge appreciation for the small things. And gratitude. At a pace all their own, one born of believing everything will be just fine and wonderful--even if not every item on their To Do List gets crossed off... because Tomorrow is another day (can't you just hear Scarlett saying that?).

I've lived like that before, but seldom since we moved here to this all-new-to-me farm. So in a hundred areas God is (again) slowing me down, for even I know that the less tense I am--the less I rely upon my own itinerary--the less I'll even notice interruptions. For, how do I even know an interruption is one if I'm following Someone Else's itinerary? Who knows? Maybe what I believe to be a blip in the road is actually a rest stop where, all along, I was meant to discover a whole new way of being... so that the journey's remainder will be more calming, more enjoyable and better understood.


***
And on that note, I'll take my soggy head upstairs, turn on Road to Avonlea and bury my tired body in blankets.

***
P.S. But on a lighter note, here's a fun place my mom and I visited two weeks ago. I got lots of ideas there for our own little farm.

If you knock at our back door today I will not open it for you.

I'm pretending I'm not home because, since yesterday, I've felt a cold coming on. I'm highly contagious and I'm wearing no make-up (which would scare you). I keep telling myself that if I lie real still, maybe all the germs will think I am dead. 

So far it's working. 

Gallons of hot lemon juice have made my throat stop hurting and now I'm just tired even though I've slept through half of two movies, You've Got Mail and Harvey. I rearranged my room upstairs last night (slowly, though yes, I should have been resting), and brought in my craft table so I could hibernate up there this winter. And after Tom left for work I plugged in a tiny heater in there but uh-oh! It blew the main fuse of the house. arghh. 

So I had to walk down our scary stairs in pitch-black darkness--an adventure, especially since Lennon the Cat laid across one step--then down to the basement (fortunately on a different fuse so there was light) and threw the circuit, but still it didn't restore the rest of the house. But alas, my old-fashioned phone still worked so I called Tom at his job and together we figured out that another tiny fuse had blown, too, blah, blah, blah... so back down to the basement I went and light was restored.

Then I crawled back into bed and have pretty much been there ever since. And again, I don't feel too bad, but still I'll take this day off, though oh! The plans I had made for creating order around this house. sigh.

But I remind myself (again) there is no contest happening, nothing to win while I organize and decorate my house. No prize if I finish 'on time.'. No, I'll spend this day in bed with old movies, books and hot drinks and no make-up. 

So yeah, it will be useless to knock at our door--for if you saw me--you'd think Halloween had come early and caught you unprepared.



******

Whose woods these are I think I know... :)

It's a cloudy, mysterious sort of day in our backyard...

Hooked On Houses Blog Tour

I found out about this house tour which begins today from Myrna. Oh! Be sure to check out her house first. It's amazing. AMAZING!

To view the other houses on the tour go here.

Is my house on the tour? Nah. This year I'm gonna just enjoy visiting all the lovely homes on the list. I never tire of snooping around others homes for ideas.


***
P.S. Over at my new Decorating Ideas blog I added some great decorating blogs to my blogroll. If decorating is one of your passions, you may enjoy these blogs.

I walked the mile+ home from our town library this morning in the sun and in my black wool coat (like new, from a yard sale) and 40 degree temps. Perfect, the chill on my face and all those old houses I passed by. 

I even spied a deck up in a tree on someone's 'back 40,' complete with two patio lounge chairs up there. Loved that.

Then I called my mom to hear about her adventure home and we had a nice chat, even told her I wished I'd been more organized while she was here. But we've not lived in this house and upon this land long enough to be truly settled. It takes time to settle-in, I keep reminding myself. Yet still I try to rush it because oh my--when I can't find something, it bugs me. A lot. One of those 'first-born' things which I'm still attempting to grow out of.

Anyway, Tom and I can now return to Normal Life and you know? I do love my Normal. The everyday stuff--work and creativity and the friendship Tom and I share. I mean, next month we will have been married 30 years(!) but still there's no one else I'd rather pal around with.

Speaking of anniversaries, there'll be no gifts for each other next month. No, weeks ago we agreed that just buying this little farm is gift aplenty, rather like an enormous present which keeps on giving. Each day surprises us out here. 

Now, if we can just learn to deal with all these new stresses and view them, instead, as challenges which will make us better people in a better house upon better land, well, we'll be set! ツ



***

I walk into our downstairs bedroom now and instantly think of my mom. She's used Charlie cologne faithfully for over 35 and now the walls resonate with it. Makes me miss her.


***

We're back. Tom and I, that is, from leaving my mom at the airport. We arrived there quite early (traffic was good except for when it wasn't) so we sat with my mom at the diner beside the security line with coffee, dreading good-byes.

Ack. I wish we had a mother-in-law house in our yard so my mom could live with us longer and yet have her own place out there, too, for some space, both (or all) kinds. I mean, right now I've got that we-had-company-for-three-weeks-and-I-feel-like-a-train-hit-me feeling. You know, when you stay 'up' for weeks so you can be entertaining and a good hostess (usually floundering in patterns), and fore go routines and then, afterward, you come crashing down, muddle-headed, and all that sounds good is a 16-hour nap.

That's where I am. Again. 

Especially after eating too much sugar (cookies, sherbet, candy etc.) which Tom freely lugged home because he knew I'd not yell at him in front of my mom. Actually, he did scads more things which annoyed me immensely. In fact, on the way home I got vocally snippy and told him it was like all the yelling inside of me had been bottled up for three weeks, very much like when Almanzo Wilder, as a boy, fed his pig some taffy and when he removed it the next day, the pig raced everywhere squealing all the squeals he'd not been able to squeal for hours and hours. :) And of course, that made us both laugh, me a tad hysterically, given the soppy way I felt at the moment.

Anyway, my most often repeated personal slogan is, "I hate complication." Well, I do wish family relationships weren't so darn complicated. But they are lots of the time. Mine, anyway. Yet some things you must just accept because the time for change has passed. But that needs to be ok, must be all right, and acceptance and mercy can go very far to uncomplicate many a relationship, smoothing potential wrinkles or rips.

And so can the aforementioned 16-hour nap which I believe I'll just wander upstairs and see about.

***

My latest idea in the above photo-- A table in our dining room window to drink coffee and watch birds by. My mom and I painted the chairs last week and the table is that classic old card table we found on the curb the week before. It's also my downstairs craft table--so much light to craft by!


***

We're preparing to leave for the airport... I really shouldn't even be on here but I wanted to share a teensy bit of good news.

Remember those notebooks filled with decorating photos from magazines which I'd gathered for 20 years and which I lost in our move?

No, I didn't find them. heh

But! I did discover that I'd copied some of them into my online photo album years ago. Hooray!

So I placed them into a new blog which I've called Decorating Ideas (how original and creative, huh?) :)

If you are interested, the blog is here.

See you later after good-byes which I'm not anticipating... It's always hard to say good-bye to ones mother...

So my mom will be flying away tomorrow after her three-week visit here. The days flew!


(Pay no attention to that short little chubby girl on the left.) :)

Well, mostly the days flew.

After three weeks I've relearned (and relearned) that I've become a huge Happy Loner. No, really. If I don't get my eight hours, or so, alone each day, well, I morph into a cranky, biting hen. And if I can't wander and work out on our acres unwatched, well, heaven help you if you tell me you've been watching and here's how I can do what I'm doing better/faster/smarter. (I'm serious. One of my tiny quirks. heh)

But I like that I savor my aloneness. Surely it helps the fashion-myself-somewhat-of-a-writer part of me, for I've known writers who hate their calling for all their hours alone with their thoughts and pens or computers.

I never have to dread the days Tom will be away. I don't fear silent, snowy winters (other than driving in the snow which I'll always hate probably) and if I don't hear from friends, well, that's ok, too--I realize they are busy and not avoiding me purposely--and I can wait with patience for their notes or visits (whereas it used to kill me when friends were preoccupied because friendship was my all-in-all everything. Find that story here).

Besides, there is a Friend who sticks closer than a brother and He's the one whose presence is always cloaked around me, whether I'm outside with my wheelbarrow, upstairs with a paintbrush or here at our computer. And His presence is enough--more than-- for that's exactly where fullness of joy resides, even in the type of aloneness where you appear by yourself, but Heaven knows--and sees--that you're surrounded by all you really need.

***

Yes, the top photo was taken at our old house in town. But I found it this morning and loved the colors so I added it here. Again. :)

Emergency!

Well, kinda...

Tonight I found myself on the computer and in an odd mood so I recklessly switched to the new Blogger format (or whatever) and lost my blogroll(s). Sigh.

So if you were previously on my blogroll but aren't now--or if you would like to be on it-- please, please leave me your blog address in my comment box. I'll try to add you asap. Thanks so much!

We now return you to your regularly scheduled blog post...

My poor, poor garden. The Attack of the Killer Frost finally took place last night.



But gracious! I've never before had a garden survive until October 18th. So oh well...Time to put it to bed and call it a summer. (The birdhouse was a yard sale find this weekend, a gift from my mom.)



I'm still working on our half-bath-maybe-someday. This tiny table was just $1 at a yard sale yesterday and I painted it when we arrived home. That's Tom's great-great-grandparents in the photo.


I re-tweaked the stuff on these shelves...just wasn't able to arrange objects of actual color, so I'm sticking to shades of white.


More weekend yard sale finds... the shelf, the mirror and the trash can (as always, this room looks much better in-person).



Love that kind of thing, even if it is just a trash can.

***

Man oh man oh man oh man.

Oh man.

Did you notice the ghost town feeling of my blog? We were offline for three days.

It felt more like three weeks.

It's been test after test after test 'round these parts.

For starters, after the barn renovation, we have no money left. Well, just enough for groceries till next payday. I hope.  シ

Then there's that stock market thing. Tom says we have less money to retire on now than we had fifteen years ago.

I do hope he's mistaken about that.

The reason our computer wouldn't go online is that Tom (unknowingly) turned the 'online button' off on the Time Warner modem when the tv cable went all cattywampus Tuesday night. Then he had to go to work for two days and was too busy to find the problem after arriving home. *I* tried fixing it, but stopped when I realized (quite fast) that I had no clue as to what I was doing.

My friend, Wilma, helps me keep the email going through our Gladys Taber email group (emails must first be approved by one of us), but she went on vacation, which meant no one was here to keep the group going.

Remember how I'm always saying Tom does too much hard work out here on the farm and how I'd not planned for him to do anything? Well, this week he hinted to my 70-year-old mother about how the bottom rows of our (rusty-nailed, splintering) barn wall needed to be torn off.

So she got out there with a hammer and pried them all off. Right before climbing up a ladder to paint the new barn trim.

I tried talking her out of it, (so, like, how do you forbid your own mother from doing something?), yet I knew it was hopeless. But when she wanted me to hold the ladder so she could climb to the top rung--the one which has stickers on it showing a dark little stickman falling backward and the word, "Danger!" written all over it--I stood my ground and said, "No way." I told her she could tie the paint brush onto a piece of plastic pipe.

Sigh. It's been one of those weeks. Two weeks, actually. Two weeks of --again--coming to terms with the fact that, in reality, I have so little control of anything on this planet. No control of anyone else, anyway, nor the weather, appliances and so much more.

No, when all is said and quite done, I believe I have control only over my own thoughts, my words, behavior and reactions. And even there, well, it's pretty hit and miss. But at least with God, controlling myself is possible.

And well, lacking control of my world should be ok with me. There's so much in this life which I must let roll off my back, much I must just accept--and then leave the consequences to God, knowing that He will right all wrongs (eventually) and take care of me no matter what.

It's about trust--and that will always require unanswered questions. And where trust is real, there will be true peace.

Always there is much to learn. Let's just hope I am learning it.

***

One good thing? While offline, I finally made a work space for myself up in our barn loft. (See above photo.) Doesn't look like it, but it's a 30-year-old-dream-come-true. My own space. My own organized tools in a loft where no one else walks away with them.

Heavenly.

***

P.S. I may disappear again. Time Warner is messing up once more tonight so, if I do, never fear... I shall return!  ツ


***

Just some photos for your enjoyment of the woods between us and our spray-happy neighbors. :) Autumn is absolutely pulsating here in the countryside of New York.

Tom, my mom and I will be hitting the yard and estate sales this morning in search of worldly treasures so I thought I'd leave these photos before we go.

Oh and a huge thanks to all those who left comments at my Wednesday post. I loved reading your stories and knowing I'd struck a relevant chord. So many of us get beaten down by others who've been beaten down themselves, so much so, that it almost shocks us when we're encouraged to stand alone if that's what it takes to follow God's plan for our own Life.

Oh, and here's one more photo, this one from our living room window.



***
For best results, click to enlarge the photos.

So Tom and I bought this chair at a barn sale for one dollar, though it didn't look like this when we got it. No, it was chipped and worn, so my mother painted it this week then upholstered it this morning with fabric I've had for eons.

Visiting mothers are useful creatures to have around. Mine washes nearly all our dishes and helps with dinner, too, and has volunteered to build new outside stairs for us as well as other carpentry jobs. Seems I'm always trying to (figuratively) wrestle a hammer from her hand.

I look at this chair and I hope something. I hope that the people in our World who are glued to the disastrous economic news are not becoming so depressed that they cannot think creatively. I mean, probably most people have enough stuff around their homes that they can 1.) sell some of it to increase their funds or 2.) re-purpose it to create what they need or desire (as we did with this chair), or 3.) give some of it away to brighten the day of some other bad-news-junkie out there who's also glued to their tv and floating in despondency.

Always we can let bad times make us or break us. It's not a given that we are doomed to depression when things go wrong.

And lest you think I'm out-of-touch with reality and the stock market woes won't touch Tom and myself, well, you are wrong. We are exactly the type of people who stand to lose the most. Truthfully? Tom should retire right about now. His back (all those 8 or so herniated discs) bothers him more than I tell you here. And now he and his co-workers will be helping a neighboring power plant which--he heard from some of the guys--is a nightmare situation of ladder-climbing and crawling beneath pipes, etc.

I could moan for three or four posts and tell you how complicated his situation is, but I won't. Just trust me,this stock market thing is coming around at the worst possible time for Tom and myself.

But are we sitting here in our farmhouse all in a panic? Stressed-to-our-bleary-eyeballs? Worried sick? Making wild plans out of frantic minds?

Uh, no.

Instead, we're trying to stay quiet so we can listen better to the One who knows best where we should step next. We're remaining calm, peaceful--and trusting God more than ever before because really, the alternatives are too dark and scary. Especially now at this point in history.

Besides, the last people who should get all in a stressed-out, worried dither are those of us who have a great big God inside us. There should be something different about the way we respond to hard times. Always.



******

So at our former church many of the women will be taking a missions trip to, hmmm, Argentina? (Can't recall where for certain, but that's not the main point anyway.) 

Nearly all the women are helping with year-long fundraisers, you know, bake sales, yard sales, talent shows and other money-raising ideas as well. And I think that's great. I'm happy for those who will get to travel and share. (Remember I said that, ok?)

But as I told Tom when I discovered this information, I'm so thankful we no longer attend there. Why? Because I cringe to think of all the 'little talks' about non-cooperation I might get since-- not only do I not wish to go to Argentina-- I'd not be in on the fundraisers, either.

Years past, I had a few of those little talks.

On these present days of my life I'm not feeling any call to any foreign country, nor am I sensing a calling to man bake sales for those who are (though I would happily make a donation of money. Happily!) 

I've had fundraising seasons in my past and this is not one of them.

No, right now I'm out here on this little 'farmette' helping my husband winterize and get settled. We have rough winters in our area and if you don't prepare, well, you suffer. And I've spent months preparing for my mother's visit at this place where she will spend the one-year anniversary of my dad's passing. And I'm enjoying living-out this 35-year-old dream from God's hand and working harder than ever, trying to create a restful place for the weary. Not to mention cooking, cleaning, writing in this blog and taking care of Life's many (many!) other details.

You must know what you are called to do. And not called to do.

Otherwise you die without having completed God's plan for your specific life--and therein lies the tragedy.

But be warned--many people get nervous, jealous and upset with those who are certain of their purpose and callings. Why? Because we certain folks are usually pretty peaceful. We're not being yanked in different directions, not feeling guilty because of the activities we're missing. The certain folks make progress, even slowly, but always consistently. 

They move forward, not back.

And so much more, but this post became too long and Tom needs his breakfast. 

But I'll just leave you with this. When God calls you to do something different than the crowd? Don't apologize and hang your head with guilt or doubts. No, just keep listening to the One who will meet you at the end of your journey at the right place, the right time, because you matched your steps to His.



******

Tom, my mom and I took a drive through two local, scenic towns this morning, towns with old mansions set back on land across from Lake Ontario. (Happy sigh...) Dreamy places, indeed.

But guess what we found on the way sitting along the curb? This old card table and high chair. Cool, huh? We crammed them in the back of our car alongside my mom. :)



I think Tom and I expect to find little surprises wherever we go and that's a whole lot better than expecting trouble or the same ol' thing.



Our barn loft is appearing better lately. With its missing windows the sun shines in more brightly, though too bad my annoying camera can't seem to show that light. Remember when we decided to have a kinda-sorta museum up there? Well, today we decided to expand upon that idea and have old stuff you might find in a forgotten attic as well as the metal stuff hanging on the walls. You know, make it appear as though eons ago, long-dead owners placed their belongings up in the barn and left them. Though our rule--my rule, actually--already is that the overall look be one of 'controlled chaos'. Very controlled, very neat, even to the point of having these belongings labeled and in rows or in those room settings you might see in a museum or even the Smithsonian.

This feels all so Moffat Museum-ish. How fun to be 49 years old and still able to play.

One more thing... See this nifty hose holder?


Tom bought it for me last week--and I'd not even nagged him about one for months! I've wanted one for, oh, ten years at least. Just another example of good things coming to those who wait.

Never give-up on anything or anyone... even if all your relatives or friends tell you that your specific dream is impossible. In our microwave society, we've all been so conditioned to believe that if something takes more than two weeks to become reality, well then, it wasn't meant to be.

Ha! Untrue City.

All that doubt being thrown at you is just part of the test, that's all. So hang in there and keep dreaming... and working... and believing.

So Far, So Good

So here's the new garage so far. The crew will return tomorrow to finish the next phase, including the windows, above, windows which were given to us by friends. Then we'll have another group come and lay forms and place crusher stone inside the new construction and around the front of the barn, perhaps along the side you see--Tom changes his mind a lot (and we run out of money a lot, too) so plans change and it's hard to keep up.

Then that will be the end of the big projects for this year. It's one of those "know when to say when" kind of things. If you don't, you get into trouble financially and just about every other way as well.

Oh, how important it is to learn to listen to the voice of Wisdom! I can see why Proverbs says to pray for it most of all. Because well, (she says with a smile), if you don't have wisdom, you might not be around long enough to pray for the other stuff... You know, like love for others and patience with people, projects and dreams just around the bend.

Wisdom... so unworldly, so welcome. :)

In the summer issue of Mary Janes Farm I saw a fire pit thingy with a silver bowl/disc on the bottom and a tripod with a chain and cast iron bowl hanging from the center.

Passionate love at first sight.

Well. Tom checked out some prices of those online and they were a bit more than I'd hoped they were (isn't everything?). But alas, three weeks ago at a yard sale (but of course...) we found the above tripod, chain and bowl. Tom talked them down to $6 from $7. heh.

But what another delightful surprise. Something so obvious, so flagrantly obvious from--I believe--God, Himself, caring for my needs and even my appropriate, pleasing-to-Him wants.

Is He good, or what?

I hope to make soup out there next week.

***

P.S. My 70-year-old mom has become a political news junkie. Who knew?

She was disappointed that our cable does not include the Fox News Channel (being a rabid fan of Fox News), but she's recovering. Of course, she watched the entire vice-presidential debate the other night. Me? I went to bed. Three minutes of highlights the next morning were plenty.

So my mom flew in on Wednesday night around 9:00 p.m.

I love the Buffalo/Niagara International Airport.

Honestly, it's such a joyful place and while there, I always feel like an extra in a reunion movie. I watch ladies or children run, actually run, to their loved ones and embrace and kiss them with smiles and laughter and tears. Whole groups stand awhile, share their travel stories, then walk away, often arm in arm.

It's a joy to sit in the plastic molded seats and watch all this. 

Even while waiting around the luggage belt thing downstairs there's much laughter and joy. I remember standing there in 1993 after Naomi and I flew out here to meet with Tom who'd come ahead of us, and thinking, "Wow. Buffalo is such a happy place. I can even imagine there's singing and dancing in her streets."

Anyway.  Tom, my mom and I enjoyed our Thursday, even celebrating my mom's 70th birthday one day early (because, alas. Tom had to work today). I gave my mom a morning tour of our Healing Acres, even though the backyard had four or five workers' greasy trucks because-- another sigh--of course, guess when the construction crew finally began our barn addition?

The day my mom arrived. We've waited two months for them to begin. And guess where they parked their ugly, big yellow tractor? Right across our window with the best meadow view.

And although our cloudy, oil-slicked picture window in the dining room was supposed to be replaced last week, guess when the new one is arriving? Today. On my mom's birthday.

And I'm not even mentioning that our very favorite restaurant in town closed for a week starting, guess when? The day my mom flew in.

And it's been raining. Again. What the heck?

After sputtering and moaning I finally stopped hoping for Mom's Perfect First-Time Visit to Our Farm. It just wasn't gonna happen, I reasoned and accepted, and it certainly won't be more perfect if I keep whining over all these disappointments.

So here's to having a great time in spite of...

And here's to remembering, instead, the deer my mom and I spied in our woods on the morning tour and the lunch Tom and us had at the local Malt Shoppe. The drive through the countryside, the yard sale and estate sale where we wandered through an old, little house with retro-green walls and the visit at our daughter's house with her boyfriend, complete with the family reunion kind of magic which floats heavy on the air. And then the birthday cake last night around our farm table, the birthday candle and the gift.

If a day isn't a perfect one (I am learning), it's my own fault for allowing imperfections to mar the lovely hours always available, always waiting, behind them.

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I snapped the above photo on Tuesday evening while Tom and our neighbor sat upon their silent tractors, chatting. So farm-y, so cute.


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