A week in October

A week off work.

Still, a week full of hard work, with even longer hours; but the time was put into *my* people; *my* homestead. And so, it barely felt like work at all.

I've sat for long minutes observing a more (not yet fully completely) minimalist environs I'm attempting to carve out for the family.

I've brought the garden inside - I bought more houseplants, and revived my dying orchids. There's no peace without green, in my world. On the same note, I've been brought much unsolicited joy by a florist at New Seasons who sought me out in the store to hand me stem after stem of gorgeous plants which were destined for compost for some invisible minor infractions. Flowering orchid stems post-Homecomings! Free! I salivate at mere sight of these.

I have uncompromisingly moved almost all furniture to remove the hidden rubbish - to broadly sweep clean, to make even the covered-up spaces clean in my mind so the whole of my household felt showered, made well.

I have gone through all toys (to be fair, inside the house - the population still strewn about the garage floor remains there to be tackled when both time and bravery return), and I have weeded out the clutter, and, for most impact, gathered up bits and pieces which belonged together. Which, of course, instantly changed the toy-playing dynamic and has self-directed kids' imagination, not to mention freed them (and us) from the oppression of a looming tangled mess of disjointed toys.

Most notably, I have lost easily and without precedent any need or want of staying in touch with the office. There were texts, and probably emails, but my burnout rate must have been elevated in an unprecedented fashion - I have avoided any attempts to remain current with the goings-on.

I have enjoyed a quiet mid-week hike with Allan through Cooper Mountain, an easy nearby favorite, having given myself permission to take it easy and with breaks even while working on my own home-improvement project. I find balance of doing and being more viable as I get older, I think, and having recently read a meme (...yes) on the subject of 'forcing' versus 'flowing', I'm more mindful of allowing the latter.

Having granted myself things like office-free mind space and a measured approach to my own work, I now feel like the nine days away truly were a month, in slowed pace, and with purposeful mindfulness (an overused term these days, but the soul springs at a sound of it with recognition and quiet satisfaction).

My kids got a much more available Mom out of the deal, the home-cooked meals, the games, the vastly improved play space; and I was offered a front row seat to the moments that typically escape me via my standard schedule - their collaboration through play, their individual moments of being fully consumed by a task, their improving, and still so varied, abilities and skills. It is tempting to feed resentment rising at moments of observation I know I miss out on, but this is undoubtedly a false choice for me for now, and so I 'flow' here, too, instead of 'forcing'.

There were a few ad hoc moments worth jotting down - a case of lice (unwanted, but we found a new expedited service which took care of it swiftly and professionally); my first job of both hanging blinds, and caulking (all small victories, no doubt, but they feed my confidence crawl in ability to handle fairly standard repair tasks with fairly standard hand tools, which I secretly love); a joyous trip to everyone's favorite spaces (a nursery; a hardware liquidation store; a game store; a beautiful delicious lunch spot in an unexpected place). I hope kids retain these days as 'core' memories and hold on to these way after I've allowed myself to forget them.

And to jot down a thought I've been gnawing on - I believe a way to realize that something really moves you is to discover that you do not mind being very average, very amateur at it, at first. If a particular task nurtures my soul, I do not rush perfection, nor do I experience frustration at not getting it right, from the start. For me, this held (and still holds) true with photography; gardening (inside and out); home improvement projects; writing; cooking. Maybe recently this works also as we try to adhere to improving our lives financially, and staying more disciplined in following a budget.

"I'm glad to live in a world where there are Octobers," as L.M. Montgomery writes in 'Anne of Green Gables', in the end.