When you’ve had a long, hard week, a wee spot of mint tea in Royal Albert china and a walk in the backyard garden at sunset restores the soul.
(Can you tell I’ve been reading D.E. Stevenson?)
Not pictured:
…running down to the vegetable garden for a fresh sprig of mint for the photo
…sweeping the sidewalk (also for the photo) because it got forgotten after weedeating
…my old orange nightshirt that says You Are My Cup of Tea on it
…torn garden shoes
…yard full of dandelions
To be frank, our lives are a kind of a mess right now. Regenerative gardening doesn’t look pretty in June. I’ve been struggling with remembering how beautiful my mom had this place and how much it’s gone downhill in 15 years. Dan is so busy with calving and for a few weeks out of the year, I feel like our marriage is on the rocks. (We’re ok, we really are.) There are other things too, things I don’t have words for. But we’re ok. We really are.
Writing about the yard full of dandelions reminds me of the story Mom tells from their early years in BC as pioneers. An aunt (?) from Pennsylvania came out for a visit and my parents hosted her and whoever she came with. She had gone away on some kind of outing for the day and left her trip journal lying in the main part of the house where Mom could see it. Assuming it was a public sort of travel diary, Mom picked it up and read: “Got to Jess Peacheys. 30 miles back in the sticks. Yard full of dandelions. Outhouse in need of shaping up.”
Part of our lawn is fenced off (where too many dogs lay and walked on new grass last year) and it’s covered with straw to help new grass growth stay moist instead of drying out in the brutal winds we’ve had.
There are Idaho company coming next weekend and Indiana guests the end June. And there’s a pigpen below our house. A big one.
So yeah.
Why am I troubled by such temporal things when It Really Doesn’t Matter?
Beauty and harmony are part of our natures. Summer is short and I want to milk it for all that is glorious and good.
But I also want to look past the pigpen to sunsets and garden tea, to friends and family, to eating together and wild roses.
three green doors 
Yes, yes, and yes….
The visiting aunt story made me laugh. Not only did it sound exactly like the kind of sharp pithy remarks my grandmother would make, I came across the story of my grandparents’ trip to British Columbia in her diary several years ago. (My grandmother was the youngest sister of your grandfather Peachey-I think I have that right.) I do remember comments along those lines, and she probably assessed the food as well. (Some of those Peacheys were well known for their ability to freely express their personal opinions.) My Amish grandfather was an enthusiastic world traveler, which admittedly is a bit of an oddity, and my grandmother was the exact opposite. For her, the best part of a trip was returning home, to her own well manicured lawn and familiar bed. For all her sharpness at times, she had a warm heart and a great sense of humor. Her diaries spanned 65+ years. I spent several months reading through some of them, and it was absolutely fascinating for me. And I am sure your mom’s hospitality made up for less-than-Pennsylvania-standard accommodations!
This is so interesting! Are we actually talking about the same person? I always thought it was an aunt from my mom’s side of the family.
The diaries sound delightful.
Marriage on the rocks during calving season, I can relate! 😂 my husband ranches (in OK) and this fall he anticipates 100+ calves same time as I’m due with our 7th, could be an interesting combo!
Much grace to you. 💗
I love this. The aunt sounds like some of my aunts, and I love them all dearly. In my aunt’s trip journal, she would describe people so that she could remember who was who. She described 1 person as chubby, and he [or his friend] looked over her shoulder and saw the description. 😅
And in response to the rest of your article, I was born and raised in Lancaster County and now I live in an obscure part of Mississippi. I can relate to so many of your feelings about wanting your property to be all perfect and cleaned up for those large-Mennonite-community guests; and yet, I don’t think it’s our property they’ll remember when they go home.
I also enjoy living in an area where there’s not much pressure to have the perfect house and barn and property. We live on an old fixer upper farm, and I can embrace the rusty old farm equipment and ragtag assortment of buildings. I think my children will love growing up on a “wild” property.
I so agree that the hospitality will be remembered longer than the condition of the property. And yes, it’s freeing not to feel pressure. I put it on myself…but rarely feel it from others. 😊
The diary entry is funny and also not funny at all how she obviously couldn’t comprehend what your folks had gone through to make a home in the wilderness. To which they welcomed her!
I remember living in Minnesota and my mom stressing about out-of-state visitors. If they were from Pennsylvania, oh my goodness, that was the worst. Having been to Pennsylvania, I sort of understand.
Bless you for seeing beauty where you are.