Today's Dificulties:

...um.

There weren't any, so I guess this is going to be a bland post.

On this day in the far north of Idaho's panhandle, it was bright and brusque.

The air held the crisp bite of  Fall,
and woodsmoke wafted through the Ceder and golden Larch on the other side of our tiny valley.

I checked the forecast, and after Friday some wet, cold, and icy days are predicted.

In order to live vicariously, I let my children outside for the day. 

Suited up in Cabella's insulated camo coveralls and warm hats, I barely saw them.

First they trekked up the hill with the wagon to collect manure for our garden,

then they returned with cousins and goats in tow.

The boys stacked firewood on my porch while I with apron tied round, started a savory stew.

Baby crawled round my feet and neath my counters,
just having figured out how to drive his tractor by pushing it along on the floor.

He also mastered going down the lone step into the living room,
so no place is safe now.  I will have to resort to actually training him I suspect. 
He especially loves the shelf under my kitchen island where I keep utensils, plates and bowls.

I once thought I would be a pro at training little hands after multiple children, but it has since become obvious that instead of become hardened off and established in my duty and routine...

I have become a milksop.

One little cherubic face with two round blue eyes just kills all my resolve
and I find myself wanting to let him play with all the breakfast bowls
on the dirty kitchen floor.

Ah well.  That's what life is made of after all.

Many short moments to either ignore, miss, or soak up.

My children recently emptied the garden of its final yield.

They pulled every carrot.

They dug every potato.

They felt their harvest to be quite large and certainly the finest;
and they walked with a bit of a swagger.

I knew better about the quantity of our vegetables,
but then again,
getting anything from our first years garden was an accomplishment, so I let them puff their chests out a bit.

They took their farming roll very seriously,
found an old screen door and laid out every carrot and potato to dry in the loft of our new wood shed.
The boys even rigged a rope over a truss, connected it to the handle of a 3 gallon bucket,
and had a handy pulley system
for getting potatoes up where a ladder fell short of the task

I'm not sure but a good portion of carrots were consumed as sustenance for the laborers...

but I am sure that they earned their wage.

Today those same farmers planted 2 pounds of German Red Garlic in place of the recently vacated potato's.

I helped.
And instructed.
But mostly watched
because what could be more wonderful than the smell of woodsmoke
and wet dirt,
and watching three children press garlic into the soil while kittens pranced through the rows?

Perhaps only the knowledge of sleeping babies warm indoors, and the anticipation of that "good kind of tired" at the end of the day - for me.

Yes.

Two kittens.
A story for the journaling of New England's Fall color trip when I can post pictures again.

Much pleasure has been had sitting in my rocking chair facing the crackling flames.
Especially when accompanied by a cuddly, blankie-sharing, thumb-sucking 13 month old,
and laughter coming from the kitchen (where children drag out dinner to put off washing dishes).

That does happen with frequency.

I am learning to be content with their slowness and enjoy the antics.

There's enough time for hurrying.

After dinner came a quick whipping-up of chocolate chip cookies, Shirley Temple in the living room,
and feeding nibbles of cookie dough to a baby underfoot. 

Now quiet;
excepting the faint hum of a generator, and the soft hiss of propane lights.
Soon there will be no noise at all but the clumsy ticking of my kitchen clock,
and comforting gallop of our bedroom wind-up.

.

.

.

Have I ever said how much I like to be home

Here on the mountain?