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jennette nielsen

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Blog

Gifts of an Ordinary Summer Day at Home

August 27, 2013 Jennette Nielsen
dive

dive

it's been a while since i've visited this space with a post.  

it's just summer, ya know.  busy and full in all the right ways.  

so i go with the flow and jot down notes here and there so i can remember what i want to place in this space when i carve out the time to do so.  recently i wrote down some snippets of an ordinary summer day here at home.  home days seem rare since we are gone so much during the summer, traveling, going to festivals, seeing friends, being at the lake, river or ocean.  so i don't want to forget how good it is to be home, how great it feels to hunker down here and just be.  and i want to place the notes of these elusive experiences here so i can remember too, when life gets back to more rigid school schedule, and the skies turn grey, what summer felt like, home and away, when its just right, magical and good.   

random day in july: 

i wake late in my cool, pitch dark room at the back of the house.  the thick blue velvet curtains are keeping out the bright summer light on the other side.  i stretch, groan, mumble and arise.  there is an empty heavily etched mexican glass goblet on my mirrored 40's table night stand.  books are askew beneath me, namely The Shamanic Way of the Bee and Crossing to Avalon.  and a gold wrapper with flecks of remnants from a dark chocolate almond sea salt bar incriminates me by existing, bed side, my side.  

i shuffle to the other end of the house, rubbing my eyes, tying my greasy yet straw like, thinning(which i don't love) and graying(which i do love)  hair up in a top knot, and shoving my arms in the vintage silk kimono i've been wearing for this purpose, on and off, since 1989.  i make it to the back french doors, where i step out, barefoot,  and tip toe across the damp lawn, past the restocked wood shed, past the quiet chicken coop, past the stage tucked in the woods, past the massive fire ring, past the red tasseled hammock, and toward the back of our property, near where schatzi, our beloved schnauzer, was lovingly buried in december after being our good dog for 13+ years.  the one doug fir, all the hemlocks, big leaf maples, cedars, and a few cotton woods tower, shimmer and whisper overhead, far above the elders, hawthorns, indian plums, vine maples and salmon berry bushes that surround me in privacy.  i squat for my morning ritual and pee on the land.

{sacred pissing.  yes.  it's true.  it began as a curiosity when kristi was doing it all those years ago while she was a student in our community of wilderness awareness school. she told me she did it every morning as a way to connect to nature, the land, the animals, source and spirit, and as a way to set the tone for the day to be easy, calm, grounded and centered.  of course i had to try it.  wouldn't you if you had a place for it?  i didn't back then. have a private place for it, i mean.  so it wasn't until 8 years ago when we became care takers and stewards of this land we bought and live on that i began a somewhat regular morning ritual of first pee outside with mother nature as my loo, being one with all that is.  it may sound weird, strange, even gross or crazy, but it heals me.  i was trying to explain it to my witches a few days ago about what peeing outside does for me, besides what it similarly did for my friend, and what i know is that in being a practice, it slows me down for a quiet moment to connect to myself, my needs, my self care and my sanity plus it gets me outside which are both what i need to feel optimal.  practice, pace, play in nature.   so i wanted that,  and so i began.  and now i practice.  and sometimes its not the very first pee, but my 'it's time to get up and start your day' pee.  i am thankful to have plenty of privacy in my yard, among the thick woods and lush gardens for my refreshing, awakening, and revitalizing morning practice.  when i pee outside i feel powerful, primal and ancient.  so be it.}  

after my pee i chug a glass of water with half a lemon squeezed in.  i fill my grandmas copper kettle with well water and set it to boil for my morning coffee.  since chad and gus aren't home to drink coffee with me, i make myself a single cup using  via italian roast with a big splash of coconut milk creamer on top.  i use my vintage green milk glass mug, a gift from my cousin.  

as i drink my coffee i begin watering all the plants on the front deck, before the bees wake up and while its still cool and quiet.  the pots of cosmos, nicotiana, and love lies bleeding, the pots of marigolds, sunflowers, herbs, angel trumpets, tomatoes, currants, blueberries, and sedums are all thirsty and welcoming, soaking up the water before another day exposed on the scorching south facing porch.  

i check emails, voxer, instagram, facebook.  i  print orders and fill them.  

i get hungry so i make my current classic: big spoonful of sun dried tomatoes that are packed in olive oil,  in frying pan on low heat with a huge handful of kale thrown in.  wilt kale and toss in a cup of cooked quinoa.  season with coconut aminos, plate, and sprinkle nutritional yeast on top.  top with two home grown over easy fried eggs and you got yourself the best breakfast on earth!  i go sit under my vintage sun umbrella on the front porch to eat slow and watch the bee hives.  

i get dressed by throwing on cut off jeans and a bikini top and make my way out to garden for a sun bath and some hedge-witchery.  its another habit of mine, and a family joke, that usually i have my swim suit on because its time to clean the garden, not because we are going to the beach! as the warming sun kisses my golden skin i fill the yard cart, over and over again, hauling it each time to the brush pile on the northwest corner of our property, dumping and starting over.  by this time there is so much dead and dry in the gardens that it helps to begin clipping and culling rather than wait til fall when its twice as much work.  i am filling,  shedding,  storing, emptying and releasing the dead, dry and withered within myself as well, mostly in the form of judgments, gremlins, and negative self talk while playing in the dirt.   internal and external manifestations, i compost all of it here and begin again.   besides, we are having  The Joy Mills Band play a show on our little stage in a couple weeks so i want the gardens (and my heart and soul!)  feeling and looking lovely if ever wild, savage and unkempt.  i keep at it,  this good physical work,  for over an hour and then take a break from the sun and sweat with a cool shower.

i have a good idea to practice some kitchen-witchery.  i found a recipe for making quinoa bars, similar to granola bars, so i gather the ingredients and give it a go.  in the process i realize that by melting organic butter, my honey, and some organic coconut oil together i get an amazing taste/texture "honey coconut butter" that would be multi-useful, indeed. the bar recipe itself fails as the honey butter neglects to fully bind all the ingredients, even when chilled, so it just crumbles into a granola-ish muesli.   i eat this mixture from a bowl with fresh blueberries as a sweet buttery breakfast over the next few days so as not to "waste" it by turning it over to the chickens.  i decide to try some powdered rose in the next batch of honey butter and then i will make grain free scones and slather it on.  drool.  

once my kitchen experimentation is complete its well past noon and  time to pack up for the beach.  it's too hot to keep working and the boy is getting restless.  we throw towels, magazines, books, water and snacks in a bag and head to the lake to met friends.  the kids turn into fish and the mamas turn into a coven as all matters of life, death and resurrection are discussed 10 fold and to the umpteenth degree.  it's the best kind of circle: sister filled,  impromptu, easy, half naked, honest, hot and close to cooling water. all of us, kids included, fill up on each other and linger for as long as possible.  when everyone is out of snacks and the glorious sun begins to sink, its time to start down the hill in search of dinner.

 jasper and i decided to head to Tacos Pihuamo, our kick-ass local taco truck to pick up dinner for 3.  j, who is 10, gets his usual, cheek taco and tongue burrito.  i request a carnitas salad with extra avocado and get an asada salad for chad.  gus is off work but hanging with his posse, as ususal, so we don't see him for dinner much these days.  in the meantime, chad has returned home from crossfit after work and is awaiting our arrival with the goods.

we get home at sun set and eat on the front porch, which has cooled off, and enjoy the lazy evening.  we watch as slugs come out and their shadows, with long exaggerated antenna, entertain us to no end.  giggling, we laze around with full tummy's.  jasper retires to his room with the ipad to watch a bad tv show.  chad clears the table, straightens the kitchen and starts spinnin tunes on the turn table.  he brings me an ice cold hard cider.  i crack it open and gulp.  he sings along to fleetwood mac and stevie nicks and i swear life cant get much better than this.  life is good.  so good.  magical and right.  just right.   

the end to an ordinary summer day, mostly at home.   

 

Tags witchery, writing
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