On the way home from church the Sunday before last we nearly ran over the tiniest little duckling who was frantically trying to cross the street by himself. We stopped in the middle of the street and gasped as he ran to and fro, narrowly avoiding the cars that were whizzing by on either side of us. In those moments I always have a bit of a crisis: are we the crazy people stopping traffic? should we just go ahead home? is one duckling really worth stopping for? Ultimately we pulled into the bank parking lot to hunt for the little thing after he scurried off the busy road, since there was no mother anywhere in sight. I decided that I would want our children to see compassion in us, even for the littlest life. Even if some day we are farming and raising our own animals for meat, especially if some day we are raising our own animals for meat. We brought him home and kept him warm over night until we could bring him to the wildlife rescue the next day, who were so glad to have him and informed us that he is a wood duck. We were sad to see him go, and reminded of another reason we hope to someday live somewhere with enough land that raising and keeping a duckling might actually be feasible. Also, apparently we have quite the track record of animal saving together; this duckling joined the ranks along with a giant snapping turtle, a baby sparrow, and at least one lost dog (am I forgetting any Alan?)

The last several weeks in photos have also included:

A sleepy buddy always prefers Daddy (I think my shoulders are to bony for his liking, not to mention the belly in his way these days. . .)

Before and after of my beverage cart which usually holds our record player. I'd been meaning to cover that crazy yellow with a nice cream for a long time. One afternoon and a can of spray paint. Much better, right?

Morning tea on the porch and a very concerned looking Indy.

A welcome volunteer peony that crept under the fence from the neighbors yard, plus a wider shot for good measure so that you can admire the regular state of my kitchen island ;)

I can be pretty hard on myself; my expectations are high, I have a lot of things I'm interested in and want to accomplish, and I'm a perfectionist. Those character traits can make me at different times either extremely productive, or so wallowing in self-criticism that I throw up my hands and decide not to try at all. If I can't be a perfect parent, why try at all? If I waste 30 minutes on the internet in the morning, the guilt can crush my productivity for the rest of the day. I'm working on giving myself enough mercy that I can shake it off and get on with things with the resolve to do better. That's hard for a personality like mine, because I've convinced myself that if I don't get sufficiently upset about something, I'm not taking the flaw seriously, and if I don't take it "seriously", I won't change. Perfectionists don't often live in the land of mercy. The irony is that guilt stifles, while mercy is the soil where the seeds of growth often sprout.

As I strive for balance, I've noticed two opposing narratives our culture often feeds to mothers: either that you need to do-it-all and accomplish everything, or that you really needn't do anything except play with your kids and you shouldn't feel guilty about your lack of productivity. As is my experience with many things in life, the Truth usually lies somewhere in the middle. For most of human history mothers have been amazingly productive, often involving their children in the work and rhythm of life, much to their benefit. Let's not fear hard work nor allow our children to grow up fearing it. But at the same time, no, I probably can't accomplish everything I want to, not with a list like mine. I need to hear that. Something often has to go before there is room for something else. Recently, I've chosen time for reading and journaling and lots and lots of sleep over writing for this space. Seasons change rapidly and it might not always be that way. I can get more organized and waste less time and I'm continually learning how to do that better (and in fact finding it easier to be productive when I'm not so hard on myself).

Anyways, here I am, with pictures of the pie for an occasion which I can no longer recall (though I can at least remember that they were Hoosier Mama's recipes for chocolate and lemon chess), and the apple and peach blossoms which are many weeks gone, and the seedlings which are very grown and in fact already in the ground! Even though half of the peach tree was killed the extremely cold winter before last, the remaining half blossomed this year and has set fruit, and for that I am very grateful. I tried to plan the garden this year with thoughts towards how preoccupied I'm likely to be in August (with the new baby and all) and with what is truly the most productive and useful to us with our limited planting space, and so I did one bed with tomatoes, peppers, basil and soon cucumbers, and the other is half flowers for cutting (a true commodity considering how many flowers we tend to buy in the summer) and the other half herbs and lettuces. If you're trying to imagine me getting over the garden fencing in a couple months at 8 months pregnant, please don't. Alan will probably have to lift me over. I do it because I love it, and because I'm trying to convince myself that all that squatting will pay off during labor ;)