July 11, 2012

• Crazy turned lazy

  I know I say this a lot, but I really love summer.  Give me a garden, some sun, happy little people running around, and  mint iced tea and I will be happy.  But I have all that and more.

  Oh- it’s not all rosy.  Sticking to popsicle drips on the kitchen floor with every step makes me cross.  Dan is gone a lot.  Alec has allergies.  On the hot days drawing our living room blinds and running the furnace fan on cool air don’t cut it.  And the thistles in the garden.  Oh My. 

  {I have this problem that when I write about my little life joys and sorrows I always line them up with people who have bigger problems and I see how narrow I am.  And then I want to stop right there and not go on because do you realize how many people have an entirely different set of joys and sadnesses?  And theirs are so much bigger and more real than mine.}

  Anyway. So much for the guilt.  I didn’t articulate that paragraph well  and it probably makes sense only to me.

  Here on the farm we’re enjoying a few lazy hazy summer days.  It’s the calm after lots of (welcome) company, the lull before peas and beans and VBS.

  We spent a fun and exhausting 10 days in the USA, where when we cross the border and the guard sees that we’re American citizens he reminds us that we should get US citizenship for our children. (Which we have already done, thank you.)   I kid you not.   I think this is the 4^th time we’ve been told that.  Patriotic Americans.  J   This time he told us that it’s the best gift we’ll ever give them. 

  There is an undramatic sameness to the road between here and Grandpa’s house in Wisconsin.  Saskatchewan and North Dakota are vast.  Dan & Alec scrutinize every field and talk farming.  The rest of us eat.  Or fight.  Mostly we listen to story CDs until we have them memorized.  At gas/bathroom breaks we are The Big Family with messy hair and wrinkly clothes.  The littles agonize over decisions about which treat to pick out.  The teen and adolescent pretend they’re not part of us, but they’re marked.  We have some good times.  Up close and personal times.  Way Too Close times.  Funny moments and miserable ones.  Late at night, with the kids all asleep, Dan & I talk.  We stumble into hotels late and leave early the next morning, after loading up with fruit loops and yogurt at the continental breakfast where people look at The Big Family and smile politely.

  Grandma Martin’s house always smells and looks the same.  And oh the good food and the love that’s showered on everybody.  Because it was June, we went to the lake.  Idyllic:

  (esp. of a time or place) Like an idyll; extremely happy, peaceful, or picturesque: “an idyllic setting”.

  I told you last time I posted that we were heading for a school reunion in southern Wisconsin.  It was worth the trip.  I haven’t had such a fun day in a long time.  The awkward adolescents turned into gracious and handsome people.  The noisy 2^nd grader has a lovely wife and 3 little boys.  The boys who didn’t sing much are passionate about music.  These little students  manage businesses, cuddle babies, cook fantastic food, teach school, go to college, plan reunions,  and seek God.  It all makes me feel  weepy in a good kind of way.  I wanted to go around and hug them all and tell them how proud I am of them but I was too shy.  Instead I talked a lot, sang old songs, looked at old pictures, played ball badly, ate good food, and talked some more. 

  92-93 school year

  

  93-94

  

  2012(Mast family and Kay Graber Martin missed sorely) Edit: You xangans may note that I taught Cretora & Kay.  (Can’t believe it myself.  And I’m so sad that neither of them could come to the reunion.)

  

  I was proud of the good sports that Dan & the children were for that people-packed day.  Sparta was as storybook pretty as ever.  The corn was growing lush and tall in the humidity of 90 degrees.  My heart was pulled in all kinds of sentimental ways.  At Glenn & Loretta’s house, where I used to board when I was a funny little 18 year old teacher, they still had the same water jug of cold water sitting at the end of the counter with  the stack of paper cups.  Their bulletin board is still crowded with hundreds of photos of friends, and Glenn’s egg mcmuffins were as good as ever.  I didn’t want to leave.

  We drove home through South Dakota, where we took in De Smet and the Ingalls’ homestead and Mount Rushmore.

  

  If you care, there are more photos here:https://www.facebook.com/home.php#!/media/set/?set=a.479473978747689.116448.100000552720136&type=1

   Back at home, the canola is in bloom.

  

   

  My sister & her family from Idaho came for a weekend visit.

  

  Cousins slept on the trampoline.

  

  Dan & Alec are making hay.

  We worked hard to unpack and get ready for company.  And now we are laying low. 

  We pull weeds, post pictures on face book, eat fresh spinach, take supper to the field, and lay on the lawn to read Old Yeller.

  It’s idyllic:

  (esp. of a time or place) Like an idyll; extremely happy, peaceful, or picturesque: “an idyllic setting”. It’s idyllic until it’s lunch time and I don’t know what to feed everyone.  Or the water fight turns ugly.  Or the tea spills.  Or we have a dentist appointment.  Or we can’t find the library book.  Or I try to blog.

   

  But I hope it lasts for a few more days.  I want to sew a white dress with fabric from Joann’s Fabrics.  And write this post:  “Once I thought I was smart.  Then reality hit“.

  Tell me the highlight of your June.

                                ~Love, Luci~

  (and when I write that I feel badly like I’m copying someone.  But I want to write it.  So be honored if I’m copying you.)

  　

  • 3:03 am
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