good finds / LIVING WELL / sponsored

Lightening the load (and a giveaway)


Disclosure: This post is part of a partnership with Enbrighten Cafe Lights.

One of the spaces at Waffle Hill Farm I’m most excited to move into is the big back porch, full of windows and overlooking the front of the farm. Before we’d even moved the first box into the house Dan and I talked about how we envisioned setting it up. Long farm tables, comfortable seating, books and pillows, even my little cage of zebra finches tucked in a sunny corner.

But at the top of my list for the space, and the one thing that is non-negotiable is strings of lights around the perimeter of the porch. In my mind I picture family dinners and relaxed conversations with friends, and kids tucked under blankets reading books under the warmth of lights draped around the room.

But since the porch became the holding room for all of our boxes, I can tell it’s going to be quite awhile before that space starts to take shape.

Apparently, there were better plans for the strings of lights I was recently sent to review and set up in my new farmhouse.

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Progress report



I thought moving might be like childbirth. A painful, sometimes long and drawn out experience, but once you get somewhat removed from it, your memory fogs and you actually begin to think that someday, down the road, you might be able to do it all over again.

But no. No. It’s not.

When I think back on the past several weeks of moving–the endless, hillbilly, tiny load at a time in the back of a pick-up truck, no real deadline move we just went through, I still feel this big sob build in my chest.

But let’s start with the good news.

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animal kingdom / DAILY FARM LIFE / favorites

Raising a barn swallow



Several weeks ago, as we were pulling out of the lane, I noticed a dead Cardinal in the road. I slowed the car to a stop and rolled down the back windows so Birdy could look out and see it. She is my #tinynaturalist and finds all things–living, dead, gross, beautiful–fascinating. I knew, even though the bird was a goner, she’d still love to take a few minutes to study it from her view out the car window.

This wasn’t one of my finer parenting decisions.

It turns out the cardinal wasn’t completely dead. But was most definitely experiencing its last moments on earth. Instead of giving my miniature scientist a fascinating moment to study, it was a little closer to emotional trauma. Ooops.


As we continued up the road she began to cry big, giant tears in the back seat. She’d always dreamed of finding an injured bird. Could we please come back this way and if the bird was still there, could she keep it?

I tossed out the idea to her that maybe it would be good news if we returned home to find the bird gone from the road. Wouldn’t this mean that it had survived and flittered away? (While I silently considering calling Dan to remove the what I now assumed would be dead-bird from the road.) But no. Health and healing was not what she hoped for. She hoped for an injured bird awaiting her care and comfort on the side of the road.

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