finding wisdom

I heard the crows call...

I am this odd personality...in the Myers-Briggs world, a rare INFJ.
I see a lot of things in metaphor and/or analogy.
In a world that often makes no sense, I will walk into the fire...not afraid to share my opinion, but often will be my own worst critic when I do.

My husband, Dave, is my opposite, my shadow personality.  He doesn't overthink (like me)...but takes action.  In my eyes, he is heroic.  He, too, is a protector.  When we hear the coyote at night...he will just go out and shoot into the air ~~ scattering them from our farm.

The other morning, as I was getting ready for the day ahead, I heard the crows call.  This is

always an ominous sound to me.  There is a good reason a group of crows is called a 

"Murder of Crows".  I watched where they flew...to the side of the road between our farm & 

the next.  I assumed they had found a carcass to pick at.  My disdain was obvious as I made

sure to go that way to work.  I promised myself I could even take on crows...fighting back

their selfish greed.  Metaphor.  Analogy.  Thus is the world of an INFJ.  If I can't wrap my 

mind around how exactly we fix the greater good, let me take off after the crows.  I may

just learn a lesson along the way.

Moral of the story...do not let coyote or crows intimidate you.  

sometimes I wonder, sometimes I just know

If I were to pick my mantra, my motto - this would be my choice.

It has taken me a fair number of years, people & places to have these words find me, but sure as the crow calls, they have. It is that ying & yang of being ~~ moments when you step forward because you let your heart lead, moments when you dig your heels in because you must. To wonder is letting go, to know is holding firm....and both can be who you are.  Wonder & Wisdom, cornerstones for certain.

Sometimes I wonder, sometimes I just know.

call me sentimental...

I am drawn to words, to details,

to intricate layers

and

equally magnificent wonder.

(this is the tree line behind our farm)

I put my Halloween decorations away last night, bringing out the turkeys that would roost in the house for the next month.  As I did so, I thought about things -- pondered them in my heart, retelling a story again in my mind and now here.  Although sometimes it seems like yesterday -- it was a fair number of years ago that I spent a last Halloween with my mother - a strong, independent woman who knew a thing or two about joy & hardship & celebration & resiliency (all the ying and yang of life).  She also knew about the power of simple magnificence -- and would mark the first snow fall and the first robin's return as important markers in life.  I sat with her on that October day -- window in the nursing home open with that year's unseasonably warm weather for a Halloween.  I sang songs to her -- from day camp, from holidays past, words that came to my mind ... about peace and farewells and silent nights.  Knowing that in each of those last moments time was fleeting -- but yet it stood still.  So, it was no surprise at all that as she passed on, I would turn to the window just inches behind me --- and see robins lined up on the window sill. 

Call me sentimental, call me spiritual...

sometimes

yes, sometimes

the moment truly takes your breath away.

"my whole world it begins & ends with you...."

(those are the words I think of lately

-- words by my favorite Zac Brown Band)

How lucky we are to have moments, people & places

that make us smile when we see them

and cry when we say our farewells.



totally complicated

To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying

to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

I gather sweet & charming -- it is what I do. At flea markets, in people's garages, in overgrown farmyards, in dark crannies -- I am searching for sweetness & charm -- collecting, bringing home to display or sell at the antique mall or at my biannual Barn Sales. I covet these things - I do. And, I live on this farm -- where sunflowers grow out of weed beds, kittens sleep with goats, and a day may just begin with the song of a wren at your window. If I look beyond the daily work, the worn edges -- it is often quite magical, certainly very sweet.

But, by day - I work for a Community Action Agency - an agency that works to alleviate poverty -- not so sweet, not so charming -- and totally complicated. Home is sanctuary for me -- where I run to to get away from injustice, small thinking, and sometimes overwhelming work. When I can't fix the world, I certainly know I can weed the garden. When I can't understand the turning of a back, I can hold a kitten. When I wake at 2 a.m. wondering why & how, I can look at my little guys all around me -- little friends on shelves & table tops that reach out and say, "be still my heart".


One night I was driving along a single lane & busy stretch of highway --- cars streaming fast in both directions....dark, dark night. Two eyes were caught in my headlights -- those of a raccoon -- running down the center line -- caught between two lanes of cars traveling fast. Running, running -- right on the line, right down the middle of the road. There wasn't anything I could do, but try not to hit the poor fellow. I wanted to stop, but didn't know quite how. I wanted to help, but didn't know quite how. That image haunts me. In my sweet Kari world, that raccoon eventually found a way off the center line -- moved left or right and ran for his life off the road, safe in the woods - curled up in a tree for the rest of the night. In the real world, I am guessing the story didn't really end that way. Totally complicated -- it all is, it all is.

So -- to stay true to oneself -- we mix up all this stuff -- the good, the bad, the sweet, the ugly....stir and stir and stir and stir. Sometimes we run down the middle of the road, sometimes we grow in the middle of the weeds, sometimes we curl up in a tree and pray that sanctuary will remain until morning.....and sometimes we collect little friends, little things so sweet & charming to remind us that all can be simple & pure & nice. Totally complicated. It is.

That's what I think today.

Just as free, free as we'll ever be...

It poured -- skies just opened, and it poured.

Still, we grabbed our folding chairs, rain gear...

Ian drove up from Madison,

and we arrived at CountryJam just as they took the stage.

Early -- things were moved around, acts were cancelled or changed.

And then the blue skies returned and for three hours they sang to us...
three hours!

People danced, sang back and were happy.

And, to hear thousands sing the chorus..."free as we'll ever be" with the

Zac Brown Band

magic, pure magic...

Every now & again you capture that moment,

tuck it way way back knowing it is special & will

be cherished.

Standing there, last night with Dave & Ian and thousands

of other folks that had arrived in Eau Claire-

Didn't matter our ethnicity, socioeconomic status, political views...

under that one sky, with mud on our feet

we were all happy -- just happy.

And we sang...

This is how it rolls in the country -- in Eau Claire, Wisconsin
 on a wet, stormy Saturday night.

Jar full of memories...

I stumbled upon this idea somewhere for

A Memory Jar

a place to keep those sweet reminders of childhood.

Here 's the jar for my Ian (now 23).

His jar includes:

• a Ninja turtle
• a tiger that used to knock down Lincoln Log houses
• Legos
• a hockey puck

Not a memory box -- but a collection,

bittersweet...

all those memories mixed up

like a favorite recipe.

That's my Ian --

definitely the very favorite cookie

in my Sweet Shop!

Kari (aka mom)

hollyhocks, day lilies, snowballs and farm gardens

I am not a gardener...

however, I do like the play of foliage & perrenials & annuals -

and know just enough.

In our last home in Sun Prairie - we were fortunate to

earn "Garden of the Month" distinction

and be featured in the city's annual

Garden Walk.

But still -- I make no aspirations at Master Gardener.

When someone asks about a plant -- my answer will likely be,

"I like how it looks".

So - with a vintage farm

- my quest was to keep the gardens

pure & simple & true to the farm's age.

That meant hollyhocks, day lilies, hydrangeas (snowballs) 

& any other planting that
could stand hardy farm living.

And, with a barn red & Old Chicago brick backdrop-
colors must be subdued, thoughtful, quiet.
The pinks above were picked by the hollyhocks, not me...
but I do like their play against the brick.

Plants were rescued from the old gardens, found as
we "civilized" the farm yard edges. 
Rusty "art" was added,
just enough wild was left unaltered,
with a restful, peaceful farmyard as the goal.

What is your favorite garden secret?

coming home...

Saturday I traveled - to my sister's place -- my nephew from California home - a party, a celebration!
Tuesday I traveled - an antiquing adventure -- three hours each way.  Morning to Night.

As I traveled back last evening --
I felt this overwhelming emotion. 
Thoughts of Homecoming. 
Trying to define what that was, what that means.

I know it by the pull & tug of my heart:
Seeing Kevin, my nephew, with his son in his arms -- a homecoming. 
Watching as my own Ian, arrived at the celebration -- his blue car coming up the hill -- a homecoming.
Seeing my farm as I traveled back, tired from a day away -- a homecoming.

It is a warm embrace at the end of a journey.
It is a welcome that quietly calls to you.

At my own farm, my little Chestnut kitten waits under the birdbath near the porch.  All day she waits, listening for the squeak of the porch door or the flap of a wing.  "Homecoming" is defined in this little kitten's world as "there you are".  I like that definition about the best.  It can end with an exclamation point or a "..." It is faith & hope & celebration & joy -- all wrapped up in this sweet, enduring coming home.

What does homecoming mean to you?

A little ditty about "cow whispering"...

Who ever knows what adventures await...such was indeed the case the other day.  Started on my way to work, ventured past a neighbor's farm -- and there were several dozen cows in the corn field.  Now if I have learned anything living in the country, one thing I know is that cows and growing corn -- not a mix.  Better turn around.  Traveling back past the farm, there is my neighbor & his daughter, also now in the corn field.  Better grab my mud shoes.  Arrive at the farm with a "how can I help?"  "Stand between the buildings" is my job. 

Now -- here is how this goes -- they were going to run these "on the loose - goosey goose" cows back toward the barn -- if they ran between the outbuildings toward the road, guess I was supposed to stop them.  So around the corner they come --- not quite a stampede -- but holly cow --- cows are big!  One runs my way, I step aside.  The daughter runs after it -- I yell over to her, "thought I was going to scare it"....she shares back while running after the cow that that is kind of the idea.  O.K. -- now my role is clear.  I am to be a Cow Whisperer -- actually, a Cow Clapper.  See -- to keep those cows on their path, I was going to need to be bigger than a cow -- louder voice, clap of the hands -- wide arms.  Need I say, not another cow got past me -- "come on, in the barn" clap, clap -- wide arms.  A dozen collected.  Hands bruised.  Job well done.

That left about another 10 or so way across the field -- on a little munching adventure.  "How about I drive over to Barka Road and move the rest back to the farm?" was my idea.  "O.K." was the reply.  And I was off -- drive, drive, drive, climb thru the tall grass along the road edge...head toward the big cows who are not in a fence...but standing munching in front of me...their home is over the crest beyond the scope of reason.  At that moment it occurred to me that this idea could fail miserably.  Those cows had many choices:  eat, run to the road (in two directions), eat....  Oh well, made myself bigger than a cow -- and guess what -- they turned around and began to head back to their farm.  What a sight this must have been -- city raised Kari -- arms outstretched, moving a small herd of BIG cows across a field.  I hoped at this moment that someone must be watching, quite impressed....people driving by saying, "look at that!" (not "look at that?")  I was indeed cow whispering...or at the very least -- acting odd enough that they decided home was even better than fresh corn leaves.

And so it was, I could now say I survived a tornado in the spring and I herded cows in the summer.  Just wish I would have grabbed me a towel for a cape when I grabbed my mud shoes.  Feeling just a bit like "Cow Woman" --herder of all things grand.....at least for the moment.

That's my story, and I stand behind it
(yelling "move" with my arms spread wide...) 
Cross that off my bucket list.

reaching out...

across the miles

my hand...

take it if you will.

A shoulder to lean on -

there, too.

A chair to sit in - with me quiet or listening or reflective.

Words, picked carefully, to lift you.

Thoughts, shared gently, to support you.

Reaching out -- not quite sure how -- but I am.

Words alone - sent over the miles.

Thoughts, bold & strong -- harnessing the spirit of comfort.

Prayers...prayers...prayers.

to you -- you know, you know

Once you reminded me, "wisdom begins in wonder".

remember -- we wonder first, we question second, we know, then we find the courage to wonder again.

All my love -- reaching out to you.

Kari

Moo

Once upon a time...

but that is really not quite the start of this story, yet it is.

It is a story of this farm & what had been.

A hardworking dairy farm - before.

A hardworking farm family - then.

Starting & ending their day at the barn.

Today the memories remain in the stories that they share when they visit.

If you listen just so, tilt your head & squinch your eyes

-- you might just be able to picture 24 cows lined up for milking. 

The stanchions in the barn still stand ready.

And this little shelf awaits in the laundry room, just inside the door.

Facing the barn -- a tribute.

To hardworking farm families - thank you.

June is indeed  Dairy Month.

perspective

Phlox...in our meadow.

Beautiful...

Yet, can you see the thistle or nettle that stand beside them?

perhaps

Can you detect the ticks in that tall grass

that thwart my morning coffee as

I instead set my cup down to remove them from my Cinnamon?

(who delights in sleeping in the meadow)

perhaps

There are days I see the thistle & nettle...only.

There are moments that the ticks are the bane of my existence.

And there are, thankfully, hours when the Phlox call out to me - and time stands still.

Perspective...

a gift we get each morning

tornado

To start, we are all O.K. -- that is always a good start & a good end to a story.  On Sunday afternoon, a tornado made a path along Highway R in Augusta -- our farm was along that path.  I had been working in the hayloft all day -- readying for the May Barn Sale...multiple times the radio had announced a series of severe storms heading our way.  Dave was at work - but we had been checking in fairly regularly regarding the weather.  The dark skies to the north finally hurried me into the house -- closing up the barn, tucking everything in and wishing for the best....sounded like it would miss us.  Some time around supper, Dave called to say that there was a tornado near Foster heading toward Augusta - I best get the cats & head to the basement.  As I was calling for the cats and trying to find my phone -- I could hear the sound of a train outside -- if you have ever heard this, you know that ominous noise.  I climbed into the bathtub - not knowing if I would make it to the basement (growing up in a basement less house in Monona -- the bathtub was where our mom would tuck us away to be safe in a storm).  When I finally made it to the basement, I could hear the south side of the house just getting slammed.  After the winds stopped, I climbed the stairs with solemn trepidation -- what would I find?  Indeed, we had been in the path of a tornado --- at least 5 trees will need to come down, lots of repair to outbuildings & the barn, our patio set was carried off to the neighboring field.......but, we were all O.K.  The house had once again stood up against the winds.  The barn was still standing (and the hayloft & all the Barn Sale goodies untouched--the kittens had hunkered down up there).  The goats had ridden out the winds in their cabin (as the lower level of the barn was whirl winded).  Ralphie's bridge was now stuck on a fence -- as was most of their hay...which they found to be an awesome way to eat.  The large cupola I noted in my last post was way out in the adjacent field.  But we were all O.K.  I called to let Dave know we were fine -- but that there was indeed a tad bit of work to be done, we will be at it for a while.  The neighbors came to offer help -- they shared how they watched this fume of wind carrying stuff across the field.    Everyone was hit, barns were flattened, electricity out until the wee hours, trees - beautiful trees twisted.  Tornado, without mercy -- and yet what you spared we are thankful for.   We are all O.K.

Addendum:

My big sister, Randi, provided me with some data this afternoon -

the F1 tornado that hit us traveled a path of 1.5 miles at speeds up to 105 mph.

I realized today why I was insistent on having my phone in the basement...if this big old house fell,

I was going to be under lots of bricks & mortar & plaster.  But she didn't.  105 mph winds knocked her again & again and she stood.  I don't think I was afraid because I felt safe...folded in her arms, safe.

Today I am a bit shook by the thought of it all -- cross that off my bucket list -- I survived a tornado.

Intrigued

I have been collecting these intriguing pins for years...

many represent the IOOF -

Independent Order of Odd Fellows.

A bit about the IOOF:

In 17th century England, it was odd to find people organized for the purpose of giving aid to those in need and of pursuing projects for the benefit of all mankind. Those who belonged to such an organization were called "Odd Fellows." Odd Fellows are also known as "The Three Link Fraternity" which stands for Friendship, Love and Truth. 
In Wisconsin, the IOOF dates to 1835.

Besides the fabulous pins (many with hands), we found this marker from the IOOF.
It is dated "57" --- from 1857.
We loved it because that was the year our house was built.

Have you started a collection just because an item intrigued you?

Wisdom begins with wonder.

My friend, Jani, reminded me of these words from Socrates: 

"Wisdom begins with wonder". 

Here is what I have learned along my journey at Meadowview Farm: 

• Sparrows like blue bird houses too. 
• Milk paint was made to last.
• Goats are like dogs - only with smaller droppings.
• Woodchucks & Pocket Gophers are the bane of all existence.
• Cottonwood trees get a bum rap.
• "Catch & Release" just doesn't work for Japanese Beetles or Crickets.
• Storms do announce themselves.
• Farmers are indeed the hardest working people & the best neighbors.
• It is good to know someone with a bobcat or a tractor.
• Country music has a heart.
• Humility is a good character trait....as is personal responsibility & kindness.  They make my top 10 list.
• You can herd cats.

What have you learned along your journey?? 
Do share....