Weekly Update: 6.21.26
Of rain, allergies, and mulberries
June has felt unusually stormy, with more rain than I remember having in past years. So far, we’ve only used our drip system to water our garden a couple times, which is far from usual. This week, local news stations touted this June as the wettest the region has had for 20 years. It also confirmed that we have, in fact, had more severe storms than normal — a pattern more like early spring than early summer. As I look ahead to another week of rain and thunderstorms, I at least feel vindicated that this is not normal.
On top of the weird weather, I’ve been dealing with unusually bad allergy symptoms — to the extent I wondered if I had caught a cold. After a couple days, I decided to slow down a bit lest the allergy fest turn into a sinus infection. I spent a couple afternoons fine-tuning our porch plans among other computer projects.
One of those days, my laptop finally came back from the repair shop. I was so thankful to have it back — until it started having the same issue I’d sent it in for. For whatever reason, it disconnects from Wi-Fi and won’t reconnect without a lot of finagling. I’m going to have to contact Allstate again (that’s who my protection plan is through) and find out what to do.
And along with these personal annoyances, my whole family has been dealing with life. I’ve written about it before, but it bears repeating. We are having this crazy homesteading adventure in the real world, with all the same ups and downs we have always experienced — family drama, job crises, relationship foibles, health issues, and so much more. There are weeks we feel victorious, and then there are weeks where we are just tired.
This week, I have felt unusually worn out. I’ve done my best to stay positive, but I went into Saturday feeling demotivated. I had planned to take it easy, but a look at all the upcoming rain made me want to spend some time in the garden while I had the chance. Grace and I spent a couple hours installing the last of our tomato cages. Our dad and brother Levi have been making the cages out of field fencing — a method we used years ago. They don’t have all the cages made yet, but we had enough to go ahead and support our largest tomato plants which were leaning. We had been waiting to install the cages until the drip system was in place — and we couldn’t put the drip system out until the pumpkin hills were shaped, and the rain made that difficult. Thankfully, Bonnie-Jean, Grace, and I accomplished all three tasks this week.
Our dad and brothers spent Saturday trying to get our old Ferguson TO-30 running, as we finally had a sunny day to install the axle our mechanic repaired. Unfortunately, the bolts had become bent while off of the tractor, and the guys spent hours trying to remove them so they could reinstall the axle — all to no avail.
Before I went inside for the day, I walked down to our apiary to look at something Grace had found. Each week, Grace takes walks around our property, looking for fodder for her Homestead Sissies Photo Friday series. Because of her slow, intentional observation, she has made so many fun discoveries — most recently, a white mulberry tree fruiting across from our apiary. You have to climb through a tangled mess to get there, and it’s wrapped around a dead tree, but it’s lovely. I walked down with my dad, who was discouraged after yet another day of trying to fix our tractor. We talked about how, had we had our brush hog working, we would have mowed down so many of Grace’s finds over the last couple years — from the wild phlox patch, to the wild plum field, to our favorite blackberry spots, to a thriving persimmon tree, to this mulberry tree — which we might have cut since it’s right in the area we planned to mow.
As we talked, my brother Jeremiah walked down to tell us he and Levi had gotten the bolts out and axle back in place. It was a small victory, but the moment was an encouraging reminder that no matter how many set-backs we seem to have, God is working out his plan for this homestead. As I walked back up to the house, I took in the shimmering leaves of the poplars and pecan trees. I thought about how much I’d always wanted a mulberry tree — how I’d read about them years ago and was fascinated. We’ve lived on this piece of land for three years now, but I still feel like it’s a gift I’m unwrapping. There is so much of it we have barely even explored. And just like that, the wonder and beauty of God’s earth lifted my spirits and reoriented my thoughts toward simple goodness.
Our human understanding, which shares in the light of the divine intellect, can understand what God tells us by means of his creation, though not without great effort and only in a spirit of humility and respect before the Creator and his work. Because creation comes forth from God’s goodness, it shares in that goodness - “and God saw that it was good. . . very good” for God willed creation as a gift addressed to man, an inheritance destined for and entrusted to him.
The Catechism of the Catholic Church, 299
Human sin has corrupted so much of the lives we live. Turning on the news or scrolling through social media fills our minds with so much to grieve over. It’s important to be informed; knowing what is going on in the world helps us know how to pray. And yet, the large and small burdens of living too often blind us from the living victory of creation itself. There is primal encouragement in it’s persistent beauty of wild flowers, in the insistent movement of the seasons. In my own life, it has become a recurring solace, an inheritance for which I am so very thankful.
