Quiet Day

Posted on October 30, 2015 by Laura Lindblom under Uncategorized

A good day is a quiet day. The savor of life, for me, is the quiet and enlivening action of being. In our society, we have all but forgotten how to simply be. We have an agenda for the whole day, meals mapped out, road routes planned ahead of time, work schedules set practically in stone, social lives that keep us away from home, all in an attempt to be full, to live life to its fullest, to be efficient, to be productive, to be visibly successful – That is the mark of our society – Meshing cogs, perfectly timed machinery, society run like efficient computers, filling our minds and our lives so full that what we’ve retained is irretrievable, lost in the stimulus.

But what about a full life that is full in its quietness? What about a life that is brimming with possibility, instead of a scheduled, itemized list? What in the meshing cogs of our society really leaves room for creativity, spontaneity, and breathing deep of life? What about forsaking some of the world’s marks of success to pursue a kind of success that is soul-deep, built on relationships with God and people? My heart hungered for a slower life, even when I didn’t realize it, but out here where there are miles upon miles of hills and trees and craggy peaks and rugged ravines, I find it easier, so much easier to simply be.

I want to live a life that is full of purpose and hard work, that is productive and industrious and useful, but I want that productivity and industriousness and usefulness to be plaited together with quietness, solitude, and relationships, and detached from the matrix of society. A four-day-per-week work schedule is ideal! I am so thankful.

On my days off, I feel as if I flee into God’s creation, hungering to see nothing of what people have made, and simply to revel in the wonders of the natural world. For a couple of months, I’ve tried to make it down to Hole-in-the-Wall, one of my family’s favorite haunts. Finally! Sarah and I had an hour and a half or so yesterday and we made a quick jaunt down our old jeep trail to that wonderful place.

The hardwood trees have all lost their leaves by now, or mostly, and the air was crisp and ripe with autumn. We hiked along the creek bed for most of the way, scrambling over rocks, jumping from one to the other, getting tangled in young trees which are growing bravely up through the rocky creek bottom. Battle Creek was flowing high this summer. Sarah is a tall girl, and the clumps of tangled grass and leaves above her head show the waterline to have been at least 7 feet deep in this bend of the canyon!

Hole-in-the-Wall is whittled away a little more each year, but there it has been for about 100 years. I wonder how much longer it will be there, and big enough for us to climb through and hike over? I hope I never have to see it collapsed, the whole ridge crumbled to a pile of rock, but one never knows – A little more of it tumbles down with every rain. It still enchants me.

The canyon leading to Hole-in-the-Wall was glowing brightly – Blue sky, a little breeze, and warm sunlight. What more could we ask for? I guess the one thing we could have asked for was a little more time. Salsa preparations and housework in the early afternoon and small group in the evening didn’t leave a lot of time, but we still had the leisure to enjoy our scramble to and from, to stop and marvel at fallen leaves, garnet sand, and orange berries. We had time to be.

It was a good day. A quiet sort of day.

Game night

Posted on October 24, 2015 by Laura Lindblom under Uncategorized

I have to admit, my family is not much of a board-game-playing family, or a game playing family, period. Not sure why – Maybe we’re not competitive enough and it bores us to death, or perhaps we’re too competitive and it stresses us out. However, we do have tendencies to be a two-person game-playing family. Rarely will all six of us sit down for a game, but pairs or threes of us do enjoy games, such as Speed, Double Solitaire (some of us prefer Solitaire – alone), Rummy, Monopoly (if it is the horse edition), Herd Your Horses (yes, there’s a trend), Taboo (all of us get in on that one)…

Dad and I had the house to ourselves this evening – It was quiet. Almost too quiet. Mom, Sarah, and Anna are all in Custer, for overnight church-related activities. We had dinner, got dishes done, read our chapter in Hebrews, and decided to…play a few games. Given that it is Dad and me and not, say, Anna or Sarah and me, I expected us to make tea or decaf, make ourselves comfortable in the living room and read for a few hours. Maybe listen to Kevin Swanson’s podcast, or even watch a movie. But no, we decided to play a game or two.

Dad taught me King’s Corners, a card game that he learned a few months ago from his now-92-year-old former gradeschool teacher. We played four rounds. He trounced me. Oh, well. Next time.

Then I wheedled and cajoled just a little bit, and Dad agreed to play Risk with me. We have an ancient Risk board that has been in our cabin for decades, but the rules are a bit different from the ones I’m used to – We muddled through the setup (the part I always forget how to do anyway), and took off.

Not sure exactly what it is that appeals to me about Risk – Perhaps it feeds some inner desire to actually take over the world, hearkening back to my adolescent days where my dear cousin and I plotted world domination.

We played for an hour and didn’t finish, which is of course usual for Risk – We’ll revisit it in the morning, perhaps.

I’ve got a pretty wonderful dad. That’s all.

Relics

Posted on October 11, 2015 by Laura Lindblom under Uncategorized

I’m sure I don’t know all the stories of this old boy, but he’s become something of a fixture. I can’t even say I really know when Grandpa managed to come by this old Willys jeep, or how long he drove it, but it sat as a creative, backwoods yard ornament next to the chicken coop for years. Years.

Within the past few, though, maybe ten years, maybe five, the old Willys jeep was retired to a pen next to the corral. Can’t even be used for parts, but for some reason, there just is no getting rid of that old thing. None of us wants to, I imagine.

Even if I don’t remember the details, or never knew them to forget them, there’s something to be said for relics of the past. I don’t know if it is the reminder that everything eventually falls to disrepair (pessimistic) or it is the reminder of good old days, and people I loved (optimistic), but there is something important to me about the rusted body, the peeling paint, the almost-unreadable “Willys” on the hood and the back, the cracked windshield, the springs busting through the cracked leather seats.

It is a part of my dad’s past, my granddad’s past, which makes it a part of my past. If this place were mine to do with as I wished, the jeep would stay. In fact, I’d probably put it back next to the chicken coop.

Who knows when it got the yellow paint job – The green is visible under the cracking, chipping, lichen-covered paint. Who knows when the mice really took to the leather, or when the yellow jackets started taking refuge there – They sun themselves on the remainder of the seats, on the floorboards. Who could tell me the last day that old clunker was driven, or what its last trip was – I can’t even tell you the day it was retired to the the pen beside the corral.

But it is a relic. And it will stay.

Surprised by bounty

Posted on October 8, 2015 by Laura Lindblom under Uncategorized

The sentiment this summer among gardeners was dismal. Just when we started thinking this year would be a great year for gardening, a storm whipped up out of nowhere and smashed everything. So we replanted and waited and got hopeful – And just when we started getting optimistic, another stormed whipped up out of nowhere and smashed everything. Again. It was a little discouraging. Who wouldn’t be dismal when their beautiful garden gets crushed by pea-to-golfball-sized hail, knocked down by straight-line winds, flooded out, shriveled in the heat, or burned by an early frost?

But suddenly we’ve been surprised by our garden actually producing vegetables, in spite of the late (third or fourth) planting. I don’t know if I mentioned this before, but Sarah’s boss at Dakota Greens in Custer gave – gave – us upwards of 20 tomato plants, after the first planting was smashed, plus a variety of pepper plants. Such a gesture of generosity really floored me.

Mom dutifully and eagerly planted them, regardless of how late in the season it was, content to have a garden that looked nice even if it didn’t ultimately grow anything. Someone else gave us a tomatillo plant which is now covered with fruit, other people gave us zucchini plants, and Mom replanted green beans.

But what has been delightfully surprising is that not only did the plants that she planted late do well, but many of the plants that had gotten flattened or severely bruised in the hail are doing beautifully! Mom’s square-foot gardening boxes were planted thick with root vegetables, and we’re getting a bumper crop of turnips. I couldn’t help but marvel at the color – Such a rich, pure color. The basil and oregano likewise are plentiful, and many of the squash plants are laden.

What a welcome surprise! We have bags of green beans waiting to be blanched and frozen, lots of turnips, and herbs to freeze in oil. How exciting!

We were out picking a few days ago, and Luna the Cat was darling to watch – He’s a weird cat with some really weird habits and weird quirks, but he is quite the charmer. He is uncannily companionable, although he prefers to not be snuggled, but he loves to be where the activity is. The whole time we picked, he was discovering the garden. He sneaked up on picked zucchini, prowled around in the green beans, got his little paws wet in puddles, and then discovered the leeks. He likes leeks.

Our tomato crop hasn’t been very good, since a late hail storm damaged a lot of the fruit, but the lack in tomatoes is more than made up for in the other bounty. We’re still pondering what we could use as a hail screen next year.

Lesson for the day: Patience and persistence really does pay off sometimes. If Mom hadn’t insisted on replanting the third (or was it the fourth?) time and continuing the cultivate what survived, we wouldn’t be getting anything from the garden this year, except maybe some of the root crops and some squash. But we’ll have a little to put up in the freezer anyway, and plenty to cook fresh. Nothing quite makes a meal like home-grown produce.

September | In Hindsight

Posted on October 8, 2015 by Laura Lindblom under Uncategorized

September was a month I knew I would be glad to leave behind, before it even started. Now, it wasn’t bad, mind you – It was just busy. Way too busy. I was working six days a week through most of September, on one occasion seven days a week, and I knew it would be unsustainable before it had even become unsustainable. Either way, September is over, taking with it the last of my summer jobs, the last of the summer, the last of the tourists, and leaving behind memories of family outings, photography excursions, time spent with my church community, and the first few weeks at a brand-new job in a brand new field.

The scribing is going well – I have to be honest, after a week doing it I was getting worried. The amount to learn was daunting and, as I alluded to, I don’t thrive in bustle and busyness. There was a period of about two weeks where I had one day off, maybe two, since I was still working at the Mercantile. Let’s just say that that isn’t conducive to feeling good about a brand new job. However, as I got more familiar at the clinic, I started to enjoy it – to really enjoy it. There’s so much to learn, which is both a little daunting and a lot exciting. Looking forward to seeing what the next year looks like.

September is the perfect place on the summer calendar, as far as weather is concerned – Great weather for hiking and walks, for exploring and spending time outdoors. I was (and still am!) getting to know my new camera, which I bought right at the beginning of September – It comes with me just about everywhere! Somehow in the craziness of September, I was blessed to have time for garnet hunts, scenic drives, photography, hiking with friends, picking rose hips, going to Little Falls, visiting the Stavkirk, driving Spearfish Canyon, going to the Rock Maze out on Nemo Road, and spending the evening up at Grandma’s watching “Little House on the Prairie.”

I taught my first Sunday school class at church, played preludes for the month of September, AND now have an electric piano. I have to admit, I turned up my nose at having one for a very long time–But not having any piano finally became motivation enough to accept an electric one. I have the best dad–He bought the piano, and I know we’ll be using it a lot in the future for hymn-sings and making music up at Grandma’s! It isn’t a real piano, but it actually sounds amazingly good.

And finally, Jess visited at the end of the month, along with our Uncle Scott. We monopolized his time as much as we were able – I never get the feeling that he minds being monopolized. Although we didn’t have a lot of time off while Jess was here, we made the most of what free time we did have – Already looking forward to seeing her next month, and at Christmas time.

Even in the midst of the busyness, September had lovely moments of family time, adventures, and just plain fun–They were just a little fewer and farther between this month, or a little more meticulously stitched in to the fabric of the month. But it made them all the more appreciated.

Sisters

Posted on September 28, 2015 by Laura Lindblom under Uncategorized

Jess was here to visit this past week – We kept her busy, scurrying her around from one adventure to another, relishing having all four of us together again. That may sound sappy to some, but if you grew up as we did in a close-knit homeschooling household, you’ll understand what I mean when I say, “My sisters are my bestest friends. They are all I need.” When you grow up spending all of your waking hours with your family, there is a closeness that is inevitable. And it is hard having one of those siblings 1000 miles away. So glad she got to come to the Hills for a week, short as it was.

On Saturday, the 19th, we took a jaunt over to Little Falls – The girls wanted to swim, which was a firm no for me, but they managed to talk me into getting in up to my knees. I don’t handle cold water very well, so I was whining the whole time about my feet hurting (they did. The water was cold.), but we managed to get a couple of cute pictures on Jess’s phone.

Anna spent most of her time garnet hunting. As I’ve written about once or twice before, garnets are plentiful in the streams here and, while we mostly hunt them in the dry creek beds, we like to hunt them whenever we go to Little or Big Falls. Some good garnets can be found in those places…

Jess, Sarah, and the Dog scrambled around on the rocks – I followed behind slowly, enjoying my time through the lens of a camera, and simply enjoying the presence of all three of my sisters.

God has blessed me with wonderful friends in my sisters. When I was younger, I don’t think I appreciated them nearly enough, but they grow more dear to me with each passing year. They are the lights of my life. Not sure what I’d do without them. While siblings are so close that you know one another’s foibles, quirks, and annoying habits, they also are the friends who have the potential to be the closest friends on earth.

Who else shares the same history, the same upbringing, the same genetics or legal heritage? My youngest sister, Anna, is adopted, but even though she doesn’t share my genes, she shares a heritage by virtue of us being children of the same parents. She participates in the legacy that our parents are building for us.

We’ve all spent all of our childhoods together. We’ve been homeschooled together, we’ve argued together, shared beds, brushed teeth together, owned pets together, accidentally killed pets together, shared silverware, shared secrets, shared deodorant, spent all our best memories together. We’ve shared mishaps, successes, and failures. We share facial expressions, complexions, and quirks. We compare tans in the summer. We fight over snow boots in the winter. We all try to get out of dishes, and then enjoy doing the dishes together.

Who else can boast or blush at the mention of each of those things? Who else can claim the closeness that siblings have? We share a past, a present, and a future. A friend can walk away without a part of you going with them. Your siblings, no matter how rocky the relationship, are always going to be part of who you are.

When God created families, he wasn’t just creating an institution – He was creating companions, opportunities to experience closeness probably only surpassed by a spouse. That’s a pretty special relationship. And I’ve got three of them.