Pumpkin Time

Pumpkin season starts Saturday which means that this is the week I lose my mind.  I made 12 pumpkin rolls over the weekend to get us a little bit ahead. It had been about a dozen years since I last made them with my friend Debbie. We said we would never ever in our lifetimes make them again...and we meant it. It was a mess. We had ended up covered in flour, dripping with pumpkin. Our hair was frosted with powdered sugar. The cakes stuck to the pan. They didn't roll up.  

It was 12 years ago and we both decided that no matter how many our baker could make, no matter how much she charged, we would never ever even think about doing it again.  And we didn't... until now. But here is where my story merges with someone else's and I'll just have to plead the the fifth. At least I have a system. It was mess free...at least as mess free as I get. They look good, taste great. I'll be the midnight pumpkin baker this year. 

I love the whole pumpkin season...hot cider, flannel shirts, painting pumpkins, hayrides, wandering thru the maze and picking sunflowers, watching little ones search for the magic pumpkin, and just hanging out at the farm and visiting with friends.  Pumpkin season also means that my house is a bigger mess than usual and we eat too many hot dogs and BBQs. There isn't time to cook anything that doesn't have pumpkin it and we are usually pretty much worn out by the end of the month. But, October 1-31 is full of magic.                                          

 Come visit the pumpkin farm

Pumpkin time friends, I'm looking forward to seeing you on the farm! Peace and love, Krista

Belmont Pumpkin Farm 

Colorado was beautiful

I haven't had a chance to go through the pics. My Nikon lens broke beyond repair while on vacation. Pics are scattered on phones and Noah's cam.

seeing seagulls

Don’t believe what your eyes are telling you.
All they show is limitation. Look with your understanding.

Richard Bach, Jonathan Livingston Seagull

Fireworks

Here I am wide awake after a magnificent storm. I live in an old farm house with 19 windows and a metal roof. It's hard to sleep through a storm. Amazing tonight. The thunder is still rumbling around out there, but no more bolts of lightening and brightly lit skies. Part of me wishes the storm might have lingered just a little longer to keep me company for a bit.

Fireworks tonight were beautiful in Mathews. Worth every little drop of blood sucked up by the ravenous mosquitos. Yep, forgot the bug-spray...which was not a good thing on so many levels. My son will probably ask me about malaria tomorrow. I've already looked it up because "I don't know" is not an acceptable answer. Mosquitos carrying malaria were apparently found in Virginia in 2002. Nothing newer gleaned from a quick google search. He is okay. We will live.

The storm is back. I'm going out to enjoy it on the back porch. What a beaultiful evening...or maybe not. Lightening just shook my house. How can everyone else sleep through this?

Me

I like fireflies

and the feel of the sand rushing between my toes on the back of a receding wave.

I am a dreamer.

I question words.

I place blind faith in the cinematic masterpieces of the human heart.

I am not black or white.

I drench myself in gray, the sticky gray of duct tape left too long on the dashboard and

the serene gray pools of clay from which I rise like a phoenix, burning.  I am the light uplifting gray of a billowy cloud lit from within...by fireflies.

I take my heaven with cream and sugar in the here and now.

Heaven is my son spinning round and laughing as we splash on an empty beach.

Heaven is the sparkle in his eye.

Heaven is the smile on the Dalai Lama's face in that photograph I can't forget.

I like fireflies and the scent of moonflowers.

I am a dreamer.

I am humbled by love and grace.

I am an outsider.

My peace is knowing my song.

My peace also comes in the stillness while listening for your song, longing for the symphony.
Interrupted by thunder clasps and rain dancing on metal roofs, the melody unfolds.
It's the swallow's song and the whistle of the wind through the leaves.
Heaven is the song that surrounds our days.
I like fireflies and the sweet smell of moonflowers and sand rushing between my toes;

Cool water over my feet, the song of the ocean in a seashell and the sparkle in His eyes.

Hooray for 4-H Camp!

I am so looking forward to camp...even though prepartation has had its moments. I've had no wake-me-up-in-a-cold-sweat  pre-camp dreams this year. What a blessing. Maybe its that I've been too busy worrying about so much else. I am looking forward to helping a few kids chase dreams, looking out for the I feel so accomplished, I can't help but SMILE smiles, and just enjoying the 4-H moments.

This picture shows two of my favorite camp ladies, Megan and Lauren, who help me smile when days are tough.

Find a camp. I love 4-H camp, but any camp will do. Volunteer. Make a difference. Send your kids. Send someone else's kids. Watch them grow. Camp is wonderful. Camp = no regrets.

Peace and love, Krista

Memorial Day

On Memorial Day I pull out a now 65 year old poem that my grandmother wrote to my grandfather while he was overseas in WWII. It's handwritten on old war-time airmail paper, and something about the lightness of the paper and the beauty of her words just wraps me tight in their love story. I thought I might share it, but I am really not ready to let this one go.
My grandfather died in 1992. I miss him so.