Home on Moraine: Let It Alone

Sometimes it's hard to know if you're better off when you make changes. Making the right choice is tricky in certain situations. For the most part, I try to ask myself a whole set of questions before making a decision. Questions that I have tweaked over the years and along the mistakes, like : "If everyone made this decision, would the world be a better place?" I work hard to maintain peace with the decisions I've made.

Sometimes I have to hush my thoughts, tell myself that I made the decision and there are no more "what if's." I remind myself of all the the reasoning I used to come to the conclusion to choose one way over another. Being "better off" is a state of mind. I'll never know fully if I am actually better off, because there is no real way to know how things would have turned out otherwise.

What are you talking about?

Moving to Moraine felt like an easy decision when it first presented itself. D had worked so hard and passionately to get us here. The property was a beautiful wonderland just for us to explore. The house was welcoming, warm, quiet. There is a balance here, between being indoors and outdoors. Our children would have opportunities that few other children would ever have.

dusk.

But, we would be away from all of the familiar things. The nighttime train whistle, the library, sidewalks, our parents, the local playground, farmer's market, bike rides to Main Square, the heron rookery. We would be away from fenced-in yards, barking dogs, headlights in the front window. Surely, we would never see the first robin anymore. What about changing schools? Figuring out all the new roads?

home.

Our first night here, we slept on a pull-out lumpy couch. I was a few weeks from delivering little brother and we camped out in the living room because it was closest to a bathroom. On one of my (many) wee-hours trips to the bathroom, I remember being startled by an unexpected beam of light across the floor. It was the moon. I stared directly into the moon without a single obstruction, no intrusive lights from far-off highways and buildings. No rooftops, chimneys, or power lines. Just the moon and I, bladder full, belly full, eyes full and bright and glowing and brilliant. I thought of Walt Whitman, a poet whose descriptions sometimes confused me, and I wasn't confused anymore.

Look down, fair moon, and bathe this scene;
Pour softly down night's nimbus floods, on faces ghastly, swollen,
purple;
On the dead, on their backs, with their arms tossed wide,
Pour down your unstinted nimbus, sacred moon

-Walt Whitman

I thanked God for all of the things that one of our most difficult decisions brought with it. For bathing the scene, like Walt described. I thanked Him for the little sapling growing in my tummy, for a hard-working, gregarious, and devoted husband, for a spirited son. I thanked him for the peace of knowing that I was better off. Of all the decisions I've made before or since, coming to Moraine is one where I never have to wonder.

Every time I read anything by Walt Whitman or Henry David Thoreau now, I almost always feel like they wrote it as they walked along one of Moraine's trails, or rested against one of the picnic tables. I feel like they understood something that escaped me for so long. I feel better off for knowing-now-what they knew.

$1.00 Uglies

Our new dietary adventures have been going well. Today, D told me that he feels like he's eating better as a vegan/vegetarian than he has ever eaten. You can see some of the meals we've been eating if you click on the Food tab. Everything we've been eating (with the exception of some melty cheese occasionally) is plant-based. Grocery shopping has gotten much easier. All I have to do is visit the farmer's market or produce department, and the aisle of grains. It's been three weeks, and we're adjusting well. I think it's easier than we anticipated.

lunch.

Labor Day weekend has been easy going. We spent the morning at a local arboretum, taking photos, taking in the gardens, and sweating our faces off. Worth it.


it ain't easy bein' green.

sippin' on some sunshine.

family.

spores.

We have a few recently acquired house guests, four orphan bunnies. They're pretty much the cutest things I have ever seen. A friend found them abandoned and asked if we'd take them. Of course we did, but just long enough until they'll be okay on their own. My compost bin is quite envious of all the greens these guys are eating. They're doing really well. Have you ever seen anything so completely wonderful and snuggle-worthy? Nope. never. me either.

The kids are growing incredibly fast. This morning, we were hiking along at the gardens and Big brother stopped to tie his shoe. I had a total mom-moment (Which I try very hard to avoid. I'm way too hip for those.) I got a little teary-eyed at how responsible it was that he tied his shoe without being told. . . I know. It's a super small thing. But not for Big brother. For him, it's huge.

little brother is teething.

Chewing, drooling, crawling, standing, pulling up on things. He's so charming. He crawls everywhere, focused on something that he probably isn't supposed to have, while whispering "Dah dah dah," drool pouring out of his mouth. He still wakes up once or twice a night, but he has only been alive for 9 months. He has plenty of time to figure it out.

Big brother has been keeping busy with fall baseball. He is so happy to be back out on the ball field. It's nice to watch him become a better and better ball player.