my dad is 70. SEVENTY!

A few days before his birthday my mom mentioned casually that this was dad's seventieth birthday. What in the world?!! How had I missed the memo? And how in the world could my dad be turning 70? Seven Zero! It actually did quite the deal on my own psyche. If my father is 70, the I must be sort of old too...

Mom and I talked and we decided to go low key. We'd invite the Anderson's over for a picnic. It sounded great. And then the day before the birthday she kept calling me and telling me who else she'd invited. And soon we had a legit party on our hands. Ivar was thrilled to be planning a birthday party for Grandpa Paul. He knew just what to get Grandpa for his birthday, "A Thomas Train from Target!" So the theme was set. And even better, my dad went to Party City before they came over and bought every Thomas plate, napkin, table cloth, bubble set, bucket and party blower the store had. Ivar had nailed it on the theme. Turns out, Grandpa Paul loves Thomas the Train!

Uncle Carl sat with Ivar at the kids table and they had a smashing time. Those two are quite the pals.

We made Grandpa Paul a cake with a 70 train track on it with a train car filled with skittles. I think Ivar may have eaten 70 skittles by the end of the night...

My whole life I've asked Dad what he wants for his birthday. He always replies, "world peace." Which was followed by a groaning, "daaaaaad, I can't get you that!" To which he'd say, "eh, just get me some whoppers and duct tape. You can never have enough duct tape." Which actually makes him the easiest guy to shop for.

It was a fun night celebrating a great guy. I told the story of when Mom and Dad dropped me off at the airport before I left for a semester in India. Dad leaned in and said, "Becca, when you're there, never forget..." And I thought he'd say something super spiritual here but instead he finished, "wherever you are, that's where you're at." 

I was baffled by that comment. But days later, when I found myself beginning to feel a bit homesick, I remembered those words, "wherever you are, that's where you're at." And I honestly think I bypassed homesickness because I was able to be fully present right where I was. And I loved my semester in India and all of the experiences I had there because of it.

It's still some of my very favorite advice. I still think of it, remembering not to wish a moment away, a predicament, a obligation or a season of life. There's no room for escapism in those words. Enjoy where you're at. Because that's right where you are.

So Happy Birthday Dad! You are a wise seventy-year-old man!

this week at the grovestead

+ It is finally springtime in Minnesota. We really earned this one and I am celebrating every single leaf. Rory planted tulip bulbs in the four raised beds and they are stunning. All winter long I looked out at the snow piled on top of those beds eager for the day they'd be full of color. That day is here!

+ At breakfast I told Ivar about a plant that has "perfect little heart-shaped flowers." He was so interested and curious and then absolutely delighted when he saw it by the chicken coop. And watching him so excited about such amazing pink hearts on a bush made me so delighted. Wonders are all around. Ivar helps me see them anew.

+ The kids love to pick dandelions and we've got a lot of them. Which, just so you know, is so important for honey bees! Dandelions are some of the first springtime food for bees, and spraying them eliminates this food source. Consider yourself off the hook on the fight against dandelions.

+ The road grader went by while on a walk with the kids. This is always cause for much celebration and thrill. We waved to the driver and he waved back at us...all four times he went back and forth on our road.

+ We're giving the honey bees a week to get settled into their new home. In the meantime, I have been online ordering all of my gear. And reading up on varroa mites and colony collapse.

+ Twelve apple trees will be delivered this week. We have spent lots of time out in the far corner of our field marking off exactly where we want the holes dug for each tree. This little orchard will be a labor of love, and I have a feeling we're going to love it. That part of our property has always been my very favorite spot on our land. From the start I felt something special was to go out there.

+And finally, Elsie is a woman of very few words, so you can imagine my surprise when she made up her own knock knock joke today. Ivar had been making up silly knock knock jokes for a while in the car and then Elsie gave it a whirl. "Naa Naa," she said. Who's there? "Mama!" mama who? "MamaDada MamaDada!!!" And then she laughed at her wit and told her clever joke over and over and over again.

becca the bee keeper

There has been a very exciting development around here. Our bee keeper who housed some of his bees on our land last year had too many paying clients and not enough bees. So he didn't have bees to put on our property. But we really want bees. And we want honey. And we want honeycomb for candles and soap. And even last year I had told Rory I wanted to learn how to care for our own bees. I'm sincerely interested.

And when we met Andrew Peterson after a concert he told us he had bees and that we "really had to do it on our own." And the way he said it made me think, we had really better do it on our own.

So we talked to Adam, our bee keeper over burgers at our favorite burger place and he actually offered to take this year to teach us and get us up and running with our own bees. He is the nicest guy, seemingly excited to pass on what he knows and I have vowed in my heart to be his number one student. I am going to try so hard.

And that's the fun thing. This is my thing. The bees are my deal on this farm. Rory seems to have a enough going with the garden, the orchard, the maple syrup, the animals and his actual job that he wasn't as game to take on a whole new trade.

But I was. Because at age 33, the thought of picking up an entire new trade is exhilarating to me. Just as I found absolute peace with being a stay-at-home mom, I have now added another title: bee keeper. And that feels good. Like adding a new title at a job you already enjoy.

So I spent the weekend in California reading a book on organic bee keeping cover to cover. And what I learned is that I have a whole lot to learn. And how glad I am to have Adam, ready to mentor me all season, passing along everything he has learned throughout his years of bee keeping.

Bees don't make me nervous. They never have. Which is good, because they can sense a persons anxiety, and may feel threatened by that anxiety and sting that anxious person. The goal is to be completely calm, relaxed, using smoke just enough...not too much, not too little.

I had on a jacket with hood and long gloves and didn't get stung. And today was a big day. They were moved from their nuc box into their new boxes. Rory will probably do a step-by-step (or maybe I will...) over on the grovestead sometime. It was really amazing. Loud and fascinating.

Perhaps the most story-worthy of the whole experience was that just before Adam showed up I was pushing Elsie in the swing. And I was thinking about how calm and peaceful I needed to be before I went near the bees. Ivar was walking towards our peonies and I saw an s,n,a,k,e right in front of him. I can hardly even type the letters without getting the chills. In college I had to put post it notes in my biology books whenever there was a picture of a, you know.

I have a life goal not to pass my fear of those things onto my children. So I tried to act really casual, pointed it out to Ivar like it was super fun. Got Elsie out of her chair and told Ivar we could go watch a show. I got in the house with a screaming Elsie who was not done swinging (she never is) and felt adrenaline pulsing through my body. I was completely pitted out and had the shivers every time I thought of the thing.

And then I had to go charm some bees.

Thankfully our neighbor girls came over and assured me that they had never seen an animal of that kind in this area before. So I decided to claim that as truth. That this little guy was an abnormality and just as soon as he meets my husband, he will meet the end of the shovel. For all of our sakes, I hope we never see him again.

And in the meantime, you'll find me standing in a swarm of honey bees.

To each his own.

unplugged

On Friday I flew to San Francisco by myself to see our friends John and Shannon. I didn't bring my laptop. And my phone had no coverage at their house. I was completely unplugged. Shannon and I went for a few walks, shared a lot of great meals and mostly talked about everything. I had told her I was ready for some good soulful conversation, and that is exactly what we had.

When she first picked me up we went and had lunch and then walked around a little lake on the dirt path that took us through the redwoods. It was really stunning. And then we went back to her house and each took a nap. She had scheduled it into our plans. Nap time. It felt so luxurious. Followed by a drive to a great town for an incredible dinner.

Being unplugged for that long, away from  my email, facebook, instagram, blogs, my blog, was so awesome. I read so much. I sat out in she sunshine overlooking the glorious hills in their backyard. I wrote with a pen on paper and got a few thoughts worked out.

It was a sweet time with a very dear friend. I came home with a full heart, grateful and glad. And I think that's what Rory was feeling too, when I drove back up the lane: grateful and glad to see me and ready for a nap time of his own.

mother's day

This family picture above is a new favorite of mine. Look at all that love for the mama! We had a great mother's day. Except that I didn't get to see my own mom! The Harrington's had last minute plans to get to Jedd's grandpa's funeral so we got to join the Groves for some sweet family time and one amazing buffet.

These pictures make me so happy. Kirby was three when I worked for Sara and Troy. And now I have my own three year old who wears stripes and adores his big cousins.

Rory brought tomato plants for all of the mama's. A fun tradition he has started. Here is Sara and Mike Wozowski. We typically bring big lilac bouquets for everyone but everything is so late in Minnesota...they aren't even budding!

And in a crazy twist, I woke up on Sunday morning with absolutely no voice. Even a whisper was hard to hear. So I sat next to Lisa and whispered into her ear when I wanted to say something. Which proved to be a lot like a game of telephone with lots lost in translation. Many a laugh at our end of the table...