Everything has an order

I honestly feel like we don’t talk about it enough. I think we like to give this message to people that they can have everything, they just have to want it enough. People can have the job and the life that they want immediately, and they never have to think about it.

But it isn’t true. Life and spirituality and existence all have their own governments. It is no different than children needing to be born before they’re able to walk. There is an order to things.

In my own world I find comforts in things like bread. I made some sourdough loaves from scratch this week. And let me just say.. just ask any baker if they believe that the world has order. They would agree. Between the waiting and the proofing and the cooling and the lid on vs lid off vs spritzing with water, it all plays together in a particular order for a particular purpose.

I had to start with a starter. I had to add flour and water and stir and wait day after day. It is honestly a bit embarrassing to have this gloop in a jar on your countertop, and to tell your husband, ‘Don’t throw away my gloop! We will have fabulous homemade bread!’ and then make him wait for several days for it to happen.

The starter has to bubble - it has to move, it has to grow. You have to feed it and nurture its environment. The temperature has to be right, as well as the measurements.

Then you have the dough prep - not only do you have to mix the ingredients correctly, but you have times of letting the dough expand, but not too much. It can’t grow too fast or the top will dry out. You can’t bake it too soon or the flavor won’t be quite right.

You go through all of this until you have this amazing (small) loaf of bread. It makes you feel Biblical. It makes you feel like you can conquer the world.

…until you try and cut into it and realize your crust is as tough as that AP Calc test you failed in high school.

All of this to say, is that in this season, what bread are you baking? What goals are you rushing, and what environments are you compromising? Are you expecting your family to be financially sound too soon? Are you investing money when you don’t even make enough to cover your bills each month? Are you expecting healing in your life before doing the work? Are you trying to get a better job but doing nothing to improve yourself?

You’ve got to take a step back and look at it from a more logical viewpoint. Look at it from the eyes of a baker.

Or get used to the tough crust.

XOXO,

Windham

Continuing down the negative spiral…

How much can change in two months?

For us, a lot. My last post was all about finding peace and having wisdom during frustrating times. I honestly had to return to that post over and over again the past month.
It all started with my husband and I getting into a car wreck on the way home from a funeral. It was for a family member and was out of town.
No one was hurt, but my husband’s paid for car was declared a total loss.
The entire process was a nightmare. Our insurance company could not send a tow truck in time, and then they didn’t pick up the car or contact us for two weeks. It put us with one car (again!) when our rental car period ran out.

We had to go through the entire process of shopping for a new car all over again.

I might go further into detail there, but for now, just know that it was an overwhelming season.

We also had to cull our rooster, Freddy.

I was devastated. He has been a steady part of farm life and chicken ownership over the last few months. He has been reliable and steady, and did so many jobs well.

Other than one.

He attacked a hen severely. The injury was horrible (he scalped her), and she is currently recovering in our basement. We still are not sure if she is going to make it.

It was a really hard decision - on one hand, we didn’t want Freddy to have to go. He does so many jobs so well, and meets so many of our needs. On the other, it is our responsibility to have a rooster that protects hens - and doesn’t put them in harm’s way.

To say the process was gruesome is an understatement. To all farmers that eat their own chickens, we definitely know that the process is not for the weak.

Everything has lead to a season of high emotion. What do you do, when you feel like you are doing everything correctly but still experiencing setbacks?

What do you do, when your life brings you several steps forward but then several steps back?

I’m trying to have peace (like last month), but I’m also nervous about the future?

If you are a fellow person of faith, let me just encourage you now that there are so many lessons to be learned in every season. All setbacks might not have served a purpose, but what you do with them always will.

Your attitude and the action steps you take will always help you see a way forward.

I would never tell people to be ignorantly positive, but I will always tell people to be open to opportunity. Are your bad circumstances a setback to your plans? Or are they communicating to you to take a break and make sure your plans are exactly the way you should go?

Sit and breathe. Be of sound mind. Know that where you are can serve a higher and better purpose in the grand scheme of things.

You might be asking what we get to learn from culling our rooster -

We honestly learned what we are capable of. We are capable of pride, mercy, and respect for all living things. We learned the purpose of animals on a farm, and how our pride is not to be traded for the compromise of safety of animals that have been put into our care. We cannot avoid doing the hard thing simply because ‘we don’t want to’. We owe all of our other hens a stress free and safe life - as long as they are in our care.

It might not seem like a huge lesson now, but years down the road when our animal numbers have grown significantly, we will know what to prioritize for the sake of safety.

Again, if you look around, what can be gleaned from your circumstances? Are bad things happening TO you, or are they happening FOR you?

I’m holding onto that thought this week, alongside holding on to my peace.

Thanks for being here, I appreciate all of you.

XOXO,

Windham

Stranded

It’s been a while since I’ve written. I’ve had some words bubble up here and there, but my brain has been processing too many things to really turn all of them into coherent sentences. It’s been a few months where my brain is tracking so many things that doing anything other than putting on Law & Order: SVU in the background while I answer emails and scroll my phone has felt like a bit too much.

It all started with my car.

I’ve had a 2005 (2004?) Camry since I was in college. I’ve driven it all over the coast. I’ve done weddings in Virginia (at least 2), newborn shoots in Raleigh, and family shoots back in Knoxville, TN. That was the car I was driving when I got married. It was the car I drove when I took care of my grandpa. It was the car I drove for my senior art exhibit. Through boyfriends and breakups, it finally was on its last legs.

So.. the journey to buy a new(ish) car started. My mother-in-law helped me visit dealerships and find deals online and we started discussing budget and the perks of a brand new car vs a previously owned one..

All while my Camry was slowly causing problems. I had to replace the water pump (again). My belt started making noises. It couldn’t make it up our very steep mountain driveway.

My husband’s job was far enough away that we started running all of our errands on his days off (which were mostly weekends). I wasn’t able to go to the doctor, I wasn’t able to get needed bloodwork done (that is a story for another day)…

I was completely stranded.

It really brings perspective towards families that cannot afford to have more than one car. There are moms out there that cannot simply grocery shop or take their little ones to the park or go to a much needed therapy appointment or coffee date. There are people out there not able to go to work to support their families.

They are stranded.

I started to fix the problem myself. I bought a new(ish) vehicle. I’m seriously in love - I swear this car drives like it was meant for me.

Until… a problem that is a problem in many of my make and model car became so bad that the dealership had to ship it off an hour away. The dealership also could not give me a loaner that would meet my needs, and I had no way to GET the loaner in the first place..as I had no car. I was so frustrated - I’ve only had this car for two months! It was supposed to fix all of my problems!

I was stranded… again.

I was without a social life… again.

I was without a car to go to the doctor..again.

It felt like I was going backwards.

How often do we see ourselves in situations where we have a bad experience and we frantically get ourselves out, only to be put exactly in that situation again despite all of the time and effort and money we put into it?

Have you ever gotten out of debt only to have an emergency happen you never could have predicted? Did a relationship start to turn negative in the exact same way previous relationships did? Has your spouse promised to do better, only to try and then fall back into old habits?

It honestly feels helpless - you feel like you tried SO hard in your own strength to overcome a situation, only for it to not matter.

The only solution sometimes is surrender. Surrender and finding peace, despite our own minds and bodies telling us that the solution is to take everything on by ourselves.

But..what is peace?

I find that peace is not the same as ignoring the situation. I know too many people that spurt ‘peace and love’ at you, all while ignoring their worlds crumbling to pieces around them. Peace doesn’t diminish pain. Saying ‘love’ won’t fix my car.

But being frantic over it isn’t helping anything either. Working myself into an emotional frenzy and yelling at service workers isn’t going to get my car fixed.

The only things that will really help.. are wisdom and peace. Wisdom is knowing that there are people out there whose job is to make sure that I get a working vehicle. Wisdom is knowing that I need to call around everywhere until a sweet woman named Lane picks up the phone and lets me know that all of my repairs will be covered under my extended warranty (and no, they didn’t find me through a phone call hahaha).

Peace is knowing that for me to think clearly and handle this wisely, I need to keep my emotions in check and realize that feeling negatively about my situation is not weakness, but being overwhelmed isn’t going to make it go away or fix itself faster.

Surrender is knowing that this season will pass, and it will work out. It might not be how I want it to be, but it will.

Life is flux. Change is the only constant. Cars will break down, friendships will end, people will leave our lives.

But how we perceive it and how we treat others and how we handle things will vastly improve the process of fixing it.

Find your peace. Surrender to the process, and find the wisdom that is needed to fix the situation.

I might be stranded, but it doesn’t mean I’m stuck.

Also -

We are having a huge sale.

Tell your friends.

XOXO,

Windham

We Lost Freddy

My husband has been working tirelessly for weeks (okay maybe he got a bit tired) on our chicken coop. It isn’t exactly a 5 star chicken coop. It is an old barn that had a giant hole cut in the back for chickens to go in and out and it has a run made out of chicken wire and hardware cloth that has been stapled over a bunch of wooden beams.

It literally looks like someone slapped it together.

I’m pretty sure someone did. However, until we can really get the the infrastructure done the way we want to, our coop works for the present. My husband has been going out whenever he could to scoop the old chicken poop and dirt out of the coop. Every day he’d be covered in grime, sweat, dust, and who knows what else. He found about five random chicken corpses buried in the inches of dirt. We have no idea how many chickens used to live at our homestead, but we are guessing quite a large number if they never noticed the dead chickens being buried by the others right under their noses.

He spent hours digging out the muck and laying down more hardware cloth (for digging minks) in the floors to then bury the cloth under a layer of dirt again. He fixed all the holes in the chicken wire in the doors and the walls of the run and stapled pieces and wood planks back together.

We had just bought 8 baby chicks (and lost a sweet little one as we believe she had a heart or digestion problem), and they were growing faster than we could believe. They’d started to outgrow their coop, and we knew that we needed a rooster and a finished coop fast.

So for his birthday, we drove over an hour to what we had heard was a pretty great flock swap. We had a dog crate ready to go and before we had even stepped out of the car we had a grumpy looking farmer offering us a rooster for no charge.

He was the ugliest rooster I had ever seen. I think his comb and wattle had been removed to protect him from frostbite (after all, it’s the mountains), and it looked like he had been attacked by something. Half of his tail feathers looked like they had been plucked out and he was ridiculously scrawny.

I was a bit worried and I asked ‘Is he mean?’ (I had never had a rooster before, but knew they could lead to a rather sour experience hahaha).

‘Ho yeah.’

But my husband wanted him immediately. We shoved him into the dog crate, I sat in the car, and he wasted no time before he started crowing.

I looked at my sweet life partner and spoke my fear ‘What if he’s mean?’

‘We put him in a pot.’

And he went out and bought a second rooster, just in case.

This rooster was gorgeous. I’m not exaggerating - he was beautiful. Friendly, fluffy, a Rhode Island Red with swagger but also an extremely calm temperament. We paid $8 for him, and his owner also provided a comfy box for him to ride home in.

We divided our coop in half, and put Mr Scraggly on one side and Mr Handsome on the other.

I decided to name the ugly one Freddy Krueger, and the handsome one Freddy Mercury. (It was extremely fitting).

Handsome Freddy wasted no time jumping on my husband’s back and making a comfy perch, while Freddy K kept running from us terrified. We didn’t have time to get the automatic door we had just bought up and running, but figured with all of the work we had done on the coop so far it was secure enough for the first night.

We were wrong.

That night a pair of raccoons (we had seen them on our porch just a week before) busted through the wooden panels on the wall, broke into the coop, and killed Freddy Mercury.

If you know anything about raccoons, you know what we woke up to the next day.

It was devastating.

Freddy Krueger was strutting around the next morning like nothing had happened, and sweet Freddy Mercury was gone.

We lost him.

We were so upset. Not only did we lose a rooster, but we had lost the NICE one! And the raccoons broke into a coop he had been working on for weeks!

We immediately worked on closing the holes and reinforcing the boards and started putting cinder blocks over the hole at night, but it didn’t matter. We had felt our first loss that really felt like our fault. The baby we had lost was simply bad timing and poor genetics. We were not to blame.

This one, we felt like it was.

But honestly.. it’s kinda been working out.

Freddy K was introduced to our growing hens last week.

And they are doing amazing.

There aren’t fights, he is showing them the treats, and while he is still first in the coop at night, he already seems pretty protective (even if he runs away from us).

What if.. sometimes the messier option is better? What if the flashy one isn’t always the best route?

What if..when we are left with the ugly chicken.. it is for a reason and the reason is a great one?

I’ve been working with a great artist (Toby Ross) on some projects.

I really fell in love with his use of line, color simplification, and how he can express emotion in such a raw and amplified way.

You can find more of his work here:

https://www.tiktok.com/@lonelyisthecloud

You’ll definitely see his work featured on some upcoming items, for SURE.

In the meantime, I really hope you will look at the messy parts of your own life. The sloppy or not as handsome ones, and see if they aren’t messy, just amplified and perhaps perfect for your situation.

I hope you can see the mess and the movement for the potential that it is.

And in the meantime, learn to protect your chickens a bit better.

XOXO,

Windham

That Isn’t My Job

I actually have a 9 to 5 (cue Dolly). I’ve been at my company for over five years - and I really enjoy it.

It definitely took a while before I really found my groove. I technically don’t even have a degree in what I do - but it somehow works for how crazy my brain is. It lets me see patterns and complete spreadsheets and figure out ways to solve problems.

However, I find that there is a common problem that not only seems to affect me, but all people in service related industries.

One of my tasks is that I handle phones for my department. I field calls and solve problems, but I also transfer people to other departments. It is not customer service, but it often feels like it, especially when people refuse to let me transfer them to another department because they aren’t finished yelling at me about a mistake I didn’t make.

I’ve found that no matter how I answer the phone, people tend to yell at me. I can be chipper, I can be kind, and I can solve their problems. However, sometimes people decide to be rude to me even when the problem didn’t stem from anything I did. I don’t take orders, I don’t ship product, and I don’t create accounts. I’m also not in charge of the entire mail system all over the United States.

It doesn’t matter - I’m merely a person to yell at in the eyes of frustrated consumers.

I never deserve it, but how often do we?

It is literally like yelling at the guy that delivers your pizza - pointless and rude.

Do you honestly think the pizza guy deliberately got your order wrong, cooked it incorrectly, loaded it into his fifteen year old Camry, drove across town, and delivered it to your door just so he could feel your disappointment? Do people honestly think people screw up on purpose?

I once had a man tell me that I must not be depositing his check correctly as the bank bounced it back.

I had to ask him how I can deposit checks incorrectly, when we have a bank scanner that reads checks? I’m literally not entering in any information, just putting the check that he sent us into a machine.

He insisted I was wrong for over 20 minutes.

I once dated a guy whose mother sent her side of asparagus back and refused to pay for it because she didn’t like it.

I literally have never seen someone do that - and never have again. But I know it happens to servers every day.

When people yell at you about something that isn’t in your power to fix, or wasn’t your job to begin with.. I’ve discovered a new mantra that I like to say under my breath:

‘Sorry, I’m just Accounts Receivable.’

‘Sorry, I just bring the food to the table. I don’t cook it.’

‘Sorry, I’m just the Delivery Boy.’

Would it make people treat us any better if we were actually as ‘not my circus not my monkeys’ as this? Probably not, but it certainly feels good to tell people that it is above my pay grade.

I originally came up with this design idea when I was extremely frustrated at how I had been treated on the phone. A woman had yelled at me and called me stupid and threated to never place an order ever again.

I honestly couldn’t believe that she was yelling at a random person in the wrong department about something. The issue was petty and didn’t originate with me, but she did not care.

I found myself defeated, and unsure HOW our generation can tell people that it isn’t okay to yell at people who are simply doing their jobs.

I came up with this shirt.

I want to help you take something back - even if just for a short while.

Enjoy telling someone off today - even if it just something you wear to the mall and not something you actually speak out loud.

We all know that eventually kindness will win.

But in the meantime.. let’s all just be delivery boys when people are rude, even if just for a short while.

XOXO,

Windham

How to Handle A Failed Vendor Event

So you did everything right.

You booked the event in advance.

Paid the fee.

Made sure you had plenty of inventory.

Watched all of the TikToks and YouTube videos on how to make a table more inviting.

Spent hundreds of dollars on tables and chairs and tablecloths and display boxes and flyers and gas.

Woke up early and make sure your outfit makes you look ‘put together’ and ‘fun’ and relatable.

And yet… you sold nothing.

This happened to me last Saturday.

It definitely wasn’t a bad event. The venue was adorable, it had tons of invites and shares and was well organized.

However.. no one came by the booth really. They glazed over it.

And as we sat and realized that even with all of the eye catching displays and a variety of heights and products..

Sometimes the crowd just isn’t your crowd.

And honestly.. that is FINE.

In the moment it felt like a bust, but then my sweet chauffer husband reminded me that 1)People don’t know what Lemoncholy IS..and 2)A lot of the people there were a much older crowd.

Sure.. the older crowd likes to read my posts, but what does a 71-year-old grandma need a black beanie for?

And it is true.. when you compare my things to hand crafted pottery or hand stitched teddy bears.. supporting a business with a bunch of skateboard decks and beanies certainly is the last thing on a lot of people’s lists.

So -

What can you DO though?

Honestly.. I just directed them back here. I printed out a ton of QR codes with a coupon on them that lead them directly to my website. If people stopped by my table, I gave them a coupon. I told them to read my blog, and if they did they could come back and use their visit as a coupon for my table.

Did they come back and use the coupon?

No.

Did they use the QR code to visit my website?

Yes!!

We are building BRANDs here, dears.

I’m trying to really get a GRASP on what I’m putting out into the world.

It started as an idea for a clothing brand - and turned into a lifestyle. My mantra of embracing the sour - and all that life throws at you became the banner I wave on this blog. I want to encourage you to be real and raw and to share - while looking cute doing it.

And I am very aware that building things block by block takes TIME. I went from table to table meeting other small business vendors. While my customers were few and far between, getting to know the businesses and demographic around me really made the entire day feel worth it.

I want to build relationships with those around me - not just focus on the numbers.

So next time your vendor event is looking a bit gloomy, can you point people to your website? Can you befriend the girl at the table next to you, and plan an event together?

Join together, know that next time you’ll be prepared, and enjoy getting to know this new community!

Welcome to the Island of Misfit Small Businesses-

You will hate and love it here.

XOXO,

Windham

Sirens - The Salted World (2)

I think at that point he was rather taken aback.

‘A…siren?’

I could tell he was surprised but also curious. He probably hadn’t had lessons in the Sirese governments. He did not know about the wars that plagued our peoples - the blood that had been shed.

To be fair, I was just learning myself. I was really all too young to truly understand the magnitude of what I was and what I represented.

‘Yes.’ I could finally be proud. I was a bit nervous - for all I knew, he was the type of person I was hiding my ears from.

Despite my nerves, I felt oddly calm. I was satisfied with my answer - and I felt like I could trust this mischievous boy. He had a certain air that just felt right. It didn’t feel like I was just desperate for companionship - it felt like safety and comradery.

‘What… what does that mean?’

I was right - in all of his private tutoring sessions, he had not yet been told of all that lived in the deep trenches underneath the earth.

‘I’m..like a merperson I think.’

I looked at my hands - small but with long fingers. They were not webbed, but very well could have been with how thin my skin was. 

‘I’m…not a merperson though. They’re like a… distant cousin.’

I could see I had piqued his interest- I loved the weight of his attention. This was more than I had ever been given - and I loved the taste. 

‘A..cousin?’ he breathed, continuing to be captivated.

‘Yes.’ I grinned, no longer ashamed of the gap in my smile. I now knew that it set me apart in a way that he found impressive and I wanted to smile so brightly it could light up the night sky. I immediately felt important.

‘Basically we have distant cousins all over. We’re all different though. Not like humans - I think humans are only different by things like.. Hair color and height and eyes. We are completely different.’ I waved off the idea of humans, like flicking away an insignificant bug.

‘How so?’

Curiosity felt good to my lonely little heart.

‘Well - ‘ I looked down trying to remember my lessons. Madame may not have been the kindest, but she was dutiful in making sure that if I was ever to be of use, I’d know my history.

‘So, we come from all over the world. And we all have.. Different.. Things.’

‘Things?’

I was not sure how to describe them.

‘Abilities.’

His eyes were wide at this point.

‘Abilities? Like, to read minds?’

I did not realize he would take it this far.

I smiled a bit, knowing he might be disappointed.

‘No, not like reading minds, although I’m sure there are a hidden people that could. We’re very private, you see. We stick to our own unless we have to make political alliances. We do not trust others.’

‘Really? Why?’

‘I think there were a lot of wars a long time ago. I’m still learning, I do not know everything.’

‘Well, what can you do? What are your abilities?’

I smiled. At least this I could answer.

‘Well… I.. usually have a type of tail.’

He tilted his head like he didn’t believe me.

‘Are.. are you joking right now?’

I let him sit in the silence and decide for himself. Again, it felt weighted and delicious. I could feel him in the palm of my hand. Someone that wasn’t covering me up or making me hide or dragging me across the universe to keep me hidden and safe.

‘Do you think I am?’

I wanted to see what he would do. It felt like a kind of kinship - this secret he was learning about my truth. I wanted to see what he would do with it. Of course he was free to call me a liar. He could run away, telling the other children of my untruths..to stay away from me under penalty of being associated with a teller of tall tales.

Or he could do exactly what he did.

He nodded abruptly.

‘Okay.’

He stood up straight.

‘A tail.’

He readied himself.

‘What else?’

He became my immediate confidant. We spent the next few weeks getting to know each other. He would sneak down to the kitchens and grab us some sweets, all the while asking me question after question about my life. I think he could tell I was always hungry.

I was completely obliged to give all of the details I knew. Of course every now and then I would be stumped, but for the most part I had answers for his questions.

After all, we were but children.

I told him all about the different people groups and how they differed from each other. The Merpeople were the largest group out of all of us - and the most political and powerful. They ran most of the oceans - and had the most trade routes. Everything with them was a formality - and extremely serious. Their courts were notorious among the finned as being very ostentatious and quite a bore. I hoped to never have to go, but knew that someday I might. I let Bastian know how much I dreaded it.

Despite their power of numbers and having more of a military force, Merpeople lacked abilities that other groups had. While they had basic political power in spades, most of them lacked any type of magical ability. It was why they often spent their lives underwater or living on the edges of islands. Of course there were sea palaces among them where humans could be entertained, but they were scarcely used - only for formalities and establishing treaties for a people group that could not reach their depths.

He had a lot of questions about them I could not answer. I was not talked to about Merpeople very often - although I was definitely curious. I doubt any of my questions would have really been answered. It was not time. I was too young for such things, and even if I wasn’t young I wasn’t in line for the throne. It was on a need to know basis, and I currently did not need to know.

When it came to Sirese, I was definitely more of an open book. Of course I was able to answer more, the blood ran in me. I knew myself.

I told him about our people - a very quiet group that slithered in cold salty caves near more windy regions. We were very private -and did not take to visitors in the same way that the Mermish did. We also had abilities that the Mermish lacked - which, was probably fair in its own way, as our people’s numbers were becoming thinner and thinner each year.

We had the ability to live on land with humans.

Of course I’m sure he already knew that, as he could see me walking on two fine legs. Skinny and slightly green, yes, but legs.

I told him about how young Sirens adapted more easily and quickly to being on land long term, as their scales were so soft.

Our scales would fall off the longer we were out of the salt - and would only regrow and form when we reached far depths below the water for extended periods of time.

This puzzled him. ‘You mean.. You..you really have a ..tail?’

I paused at this. ‘I CAN have a tail. It can fall off and grow back very quickly. It is very painful though, and they really aren’t very pretty. They’re really rather green and slimy. Think of.. An eel rather than a pretty colored fish.’

This seemed to have him stuck in thought for a while.

But he also seemed satisfied at this answer.

I told him about our uncanny skills with directions.

‘Give us a general direction, and there are so many things we can find.’

‘Is..is that why you all are sought after to help find buried treasure?’

I grinned. It looked like he had been reading his folk tales.

‘Yes - but not just on land. We are able to travel great distances and know exactly where we are. We are also excellent at hiding. If we don’t want to be found, we won’t be.’

‘I found you all right.’

‘True, but I’m not very old yet. I’m still learning.’

This got another grin from him.

Every day was like this - filled with questions.

Our mornings usually started out by him seeking me out without him ever seeming like he was seeking me out to begin with. He had the talent of always looking innocent, even while pulling pranks on all of the household staff.

I’d hear random shrieks and smile to myself, knowing that my friend was near.

I was never sure exactly why he always preferred to pick on those around him, but I knew that I enjoyed finally having someone to talk to.

One chilly morning he snuck some warm sweet buns to me - knowing that they were some of my favorites.

I was in a particularly sour mood. Madame had scolded me needlessly.

‘I just do not understand why she holds me in such low regard. I know that I can handle more, she just needs to trust me.’

This did not suit him as an acceptable answer.

‘I don’t think it is about her not trusting you.’

I had been prepared to rant and rave about unfairness for the next hour, so this stopped me in my tracks (a bit bitterly).

‘Why not?’

He was licking the icing off of his thumbs and thinking. His freckles stood out more when he was thinking.

‘I think they may not be allowed to tell you certain things.’

This was certainly a new idea. I had not thought of that. Of course, it would make sense. I was a royal child - tucked away on foreign soil under the protection of a foreign crown - all to ensure that if anything were to happen to the crown princess, the royal line would remain intact.

‘If that were true, why? Would it not make more sense to educate me fully so I am prepared in case of an emergency?’

‘I wonder if they’re protecting you more by you not having information.’

‘How?’

He was walking in circles.

‘Imagine for a second - that you have the secrets and knowledge of your people that are not readily accessible to most. You do in part, but I think that from what you told me most merpeople know what you told me. But we have been covering this in History and the Theory of Kingship- people are more at risk if they are given more information.’

Again, something I had not thought of. Bastian always gave me more information than I could ever want - and ideas that left me spinning.

The two of us together were creating more and more questions for me to take back to Madame. I am sure she thought him a bad influence, but I could also tell that she was glad I was out of her hair. This was one of the few times in my life I knew I was happy.

The months I spent at the manor were some of the most important times of my childhood. I could tell they had a positive effect on me - my cheeks were rosier and more full. The other children had started to include me in their games.They always loved to have me in games involving being blindfolded. I had a knack for figuring out directions, even when my vision was taken. (They never knew it was due to my species, a secret I was forever grateful to Bastian for keeping). The need for mischief was always growing - and was never quite satisfied. I was not sure if this was a Siren thing or a coming-of-age thing, but I definitely always had more tangles in my hair and questions on my tongue during this season.

We spent a winter mostly inside, sneaking snacks and getting cracked knuckles by sitting too close to the many fires. Every now and then a few of us were able to sneak out into the courtyards with makeshift sleds. The ice would collect in my hair, but I would shriek and run and roll in the wet slush - never seeming to get cold. My little friends would be shivering and staring before I even slightly considered coming back inside.

I knew I was pushing my luck when I let myself loosen up like I was, but the taste of freedom was too good to really reign in. I never wanted to lose control and give away my secret, but I was still a child.

Madame often would cluck at me and remind me to watch myself every time I had a new bruise and braids full of grass, tangles, and ice. 

‘I know you need a bit of freedom, we all do. But there will come a time when you’ll need to stay put.’

Little did she know, that would come sooner rather than later.

Until next time,

XOXO,

Windham

Sirens - The Salted World

Every now and then I get a little bored and I tell myself stories. They’re not always complete, and they’re not always good, but they’re always fun and full of ideas and dreams.

I thought I would share some with you all.

Here is the beginning of my newest adventure into storytelling, Sirens - The Salted World.

‘The salted world is cold.

In its expansive caves and depths.

You can find endless roads - worlds within worlds within your own mind. Your insides fill with salt and dark and fullness.

And yet - the salted world is life. I always told myself as much when trying to distract myself from what I did not have. Being too negative was extremely painful, and being too positive filled my heart with longing.

I had been separated from my family since I was a child - my scales were tiny and pliable and mint green, able to be easily separated from my legs. While scales were able to fall off with time and oxygen, we often did not have such a luxury. I remember at first how my skirts would rip and tear and I’d fall over myself over and over. Until my captors tired of setting me free hour after hour and made the wise decision to tie me down and pull off my waning scales one by one.

They would have fallen off on their own if I had been allowed to expose my legs. Unfortunately for me, I was old enough to have to have my legs covered at all times.

I can still remember the pricks over and over and the warm blood dripping down my ankles. It stained everything a slight green.

I never blamed my captors, really. They were trying to improve my life and make their days easier. And a young child giving away her status by showing the world her scales just makes her a target. No one needs a target on their back like that, especially a siren of such standing.

I call them my captors, but in reality they were land liaisons. We had had such good relations with humans for so long that royal blood was often protected.

I had to be separated from my sister for our safety. Everyone knew that sirens held power, even if we never really knew it ourselves. Royalty carried an even higher status - not only did a type of magic run through our veins, but we also held positions in the government. Lir was first in line for the throne unless she listened to our advisors and went through with an arranged marriage.

Which…made sense if you knew the truth. 

The world was changing - faster than we would like. Word was spreading about life in our waters - and traps were constantly being set. While kings and queens of sand would only protect due to understanding our secrets and having an understanding, young fishermen with a stomach full of whiskey and a dream would try to collect us for their own collection or to fill their purse. Our places of hiding were becoming fewer and further between.

I knew that Lir was being trained as a diplomat - far away from me and the cold salty air. She was living weightlessly - full of bubbles and privilege, never really knowing where I was or what was happening. We knew it was for our own safety, but I never felt like I could truly forgive her for what I was enduring.

I knew my own future was being decided for me. From the time I was old enough to learn that my braids were to cover my pointed ears, I understood that everything had purpose. I watched the world work - wide-eyed and innocent, while putting everything together at night when they thought I was sleeping.

That was my secret - I never really had to sleep. I definitely needed rest and reset - but not for the 8 grueling hours that the people I was surrounded with needed.

I’d creep through the halls of whatever esteemed estate I was staying at, and try to find out information while also hoping to find an open kitchen. For people of the sea are truly always hungry.

I was currently staying in a giant mossed stone castle by the sea. I found out it was a popular place of exile for various royal children. These children were often bastards - born from passion and ill-equipped to actually acquire the throne, but were still needed in case a true heir could not be procured. I often saw myself this way, even though  my mother was indeed a queen of our courts. Though she was cold, she was still royal and still my mother.

I preferred our stone palace to the other places I had been forced to grow up in. Being landlocked made me uneasy. While if I jumped into the ocean from a passing window I would definitely sprout my scales again, I knew that I would be stuck in the water with no real way or direction of where I needed to go. And if I found my way back home, what was to stop them from sending me back? I was told it was about safety, but I knew everyone was also too busy. Lir was all they needed.

‘Lady Miurieth?’

I stopped raising my head to smell the thick salt and opened my eyes.

‘Yes?’

It was a courier of no real status, and a nervous one at that.

She shook a bit. She obviously could tell I was not human.

‘M-m-madame Julienne is ready for you.’

‘Ah.’

I made no move to dismiss her, so she sat for a moment while I looked back out the window. I waved her on with a flick of my wrist.

‘You may go.’

She started, not used to hearing my voice, and scuttled out of the room so fast she almost lost her cap.

I never understood why people were so nervous of me. I looked just like everyone else. Other than the ears and a green tint to my blood, the only thing that would make me different was being in the sea for a long enough time to sprout my fins again.

I sat for a bit, remembering being small and stupid, asking Madame Julienne if I could play with the children in the village. We were staying in a warm villa, exposed to sunlight and singing of church bells each day. I could hear all of the children playing in the streets in the mornings, and dreamed of going out and finding a tree to climb or a puppy to chase.

She had looked at me - gauging my understanding of my small world with her thin eyes. She was a very plain woman - prim, proper, and underfed. She tried to be caring enough, but her lack of knowledge of sea people made her a target of my tricks. Thus she lacked patience with me.

‘Miurieth, it just is not possible’

‘Why not?’ I remember the whine and desperation of my voice.

‘Because they are the offspring of store clerks and blacksmiths. They are not royal children. They are not suitable playmates.’ She spouted off these last words like they were truly an answer to my question.

That was that, at the time.

A year later, I eventually found a playmate. This time I was surrounded by young lords and ladies, and one of them was especially fond of tricking the adults.

You wouldn’t think such a thing, to look at him. He seemed like a shy child- always smaller than the rest of his companions. He always ran behind the group- quietly watching. At least, until you took a closer look and realized that the children were running to the locations he originally suggested or subtly mentioned, and that he wasn’t really quiet at all. In fact, his body language was louder than any person could be. His freckles would stand out against his striking skin, and 

his eyes would sparkle with mischief.

He was definitely the leader of the group, but only the children were ever really aware.

‘Where is Bastian today?’

‘What does Bastian think?’

Echoes of his name would linger in the halls, and every time a lady would slip in a puddle or a lord would fall asleep into his drink during a fancy dinner, you could almost always guarantee green eyes would be poking around a corner.

I was always an outspoken child around adults, but truly speechless around other children. I never understood their games - they puzzled me, with how I could never tell if their intentions were truth or a lie. Adults were easy. If you assume that every word that came out of their mouths was some form of untruth, you’d never be disappointed. You’d easily catch on to their true meaning.

Children were another thing entirely.

I’d always linger on the outskirts of their groups, never quite knowing what to do. They seemed slightly wary of me, which made sense as I gave off a smell and an energy unlike any they had known. Children always seem to understand and read people better than adults ever do. I was also skinny - too skinny almost, and always had two braids plastered to my head to keep my ears down. I’m sure the strange hair style certainly didn’t help.

One afternoon I was on the outskirts of such a grouping when they decided to gallop off down the hall. I was paused for a moment deciding if I wanted to try and join them at the risk of being rejected when I heard a tiny voice from above-

‘They’ll never let you in, you know.’

I started and looked up. Hanging from a beam like some primate - Bastian swung by one arm. The other arm he was munching on an apple, looking at me underneath heavy curls.

I finally found my voice.

‘What do you mean?’

He let himself fall - catching himself rather well for having one hand full.

His mouth was crunching-

‘I mean,’ he swallowed,’they won’t let you join if you just stare and hope that they’ll bring it up.’

I looked down at my feet and realized how desperate I must seem.

‘Oh.’ I knew I sounded extremely disappointed, but I couldn’t help it.

He must’ve realized his words lacked a certain comfort that it was obvious I needed.

‘What I meant was,’ he leaned against a statue casually,’you need to just join in. Don’t wait on an invitation. They don’t like being nice, they just wanna be.’

I didn’t need an invitation? This was new. Everything I was learning about courts and etiquette and curtsies were all about waiting for an introduction.

I really was spending too much time with adults. I wasn’t learning how to bond with children my own age.

Could it really be that simple? I just needed to join in?

I swung around and looked down the hall and thought about simply going up to the group and saying something like I belonged.

The very thought made my heart beat through my chest. I was sure the freckled boy could hear it - and he could probably see how flushed my face had become as well.

‘Also, you might have to work even harder because of your ears.’

I started again, but this time from his words and not his presence.

I immediately grabbed at the tips of my ears, worried they had poked out from my braids.

He grinned at me. 

‘Noooooooo..’

I must’ve looked even more puzzled than I felt.

‘No - not like that. I’m not saying you can see them. I’m saying nobody is being tricked by you hiding them. No one wears their hair like that unless they’re hiding a secret. Plus - you smell different. I’ve got a theory though.’ The air sizzled with silence as he let me get hit by the full impact of his words.

Had he really a theory? I stood up straight, daring him to try me with his worst.

He giggled a bit, happy at our game.

‘Are you…. An elf?’ The last words came out slow, as though he knew how silly they were simply from the mention of it.

That was the last thing I expected. I burst out laughing, not meaning to. The sound came from deep in my throat, and it surprised me so much I couldn’t stop the coughing fit when it arrived.

‘An elf?’ I finally spit out. ‘Are you serious?’

He seemed to have lost a bit of his previous confidence.

I didn’t mean to make him upset, I was just happy he had let me join in his imaginative game.

I grinned. ‘Guess again.’

‘Then I’m lost.’

I waited patiently. He sighed, knowing that if he didn’t keep guessing he would never know.

‘Well, whatever you are, you’re special, or else they wouldn’t make you stay here. We all have to stay here at some time if we are part of the club.’

He kicked at the statue he had been leaning on, and breathed out a large hopeless breath.

The boy peeked back up at me.

‘Alright then, I’ll guess.’

I gave him a minute to gather his thoughts.

‘Well, you smell different. I cannot for the life of me figure out like what though. It just smells..different. Not like wash day. You also carry yourself differently - you seem taller than what you are. You have that funny gap between your front teeth-’

I immediately clapped my hand over my mouth, realizing the truth of what he had said.

‘-no, it isn’t a bad thing. It just doesn’t seem like it is because of bad breeding. It seems on purpose.’

He wasn’t wrong. Our people often had unusual teeth- purposeful to let us survive on a multitude of diets.

‘And of course, the ears.. And sometimes when you’re nervous you turn kind of a ..pale green.’

Now THAT one I had not expected at all.

Green? I had no idea. I knew my blood was tinged with green when it was spilled, but I never would have thought that when blood appeared on my cheeks I looked like a common house plant.

I was a bit breathless at how well he had read me, but I was also desperate to keep his attentions and to possibly keep any sort of ally.

‘Well,’ I breathed out, ’any guesses? Other than elf, I mean.’

‘Are you…’ he caught himself and choked out a whisper ‘a..harpy?’

My eyes matched his in width. This game was certainly turning out to be fun.

‘No,’ I breathed out, ‘but you’re pretty close.’

I don’t think he really expected his answer to be close.

‘I don’t know very much about merpeople.’

‘That’s alright, I’m not a merperson.’

He was taken aback.

‘Something else, then?’

I briskly nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘Then what?’

‘I’m a siren.’

Until next time -

XOXO,

Windham

My Dad is Dead

30 years ago, my dad died.

I could go on and on about it was a freak accident. I could go on and on about how he sacrificed his life for our country. I could write paragraphs about his bravery and how proud my family is to be a Gold Star Family.

..but it would only be a part of the story.

I honestly think that the older I get, the more I am aware of how it impacted me. I’m more aware of how it really has an effect on my brain and the way that I plan my family. I don’t know a lot of 30-year-olds that insist on having a kiss goodbye every day no matter what, or panic if arguments aren’t solved before going to sleep. I’m sure that a lot of those symptoms are based in some anxiety, but I also know that they come from a lifetime of being told that my family lost someone extremely important unexpectedly.

I didn’t really get to mourn. How can you mourn something that you never had? Is it even fair to mourn? I have several friends that have lost their dads recently. Do I even get to count myself as part of this group?

I have no memories of him - he was gone before my first birthday. My mom remarried an amazing man that has raised me and my sister like his own flesh and blood for the last 27 years, so it isn’t like we lacked a great father figure. But I weirdly find myself angry at things. There is a hole inside of my heart that I just cannot shake. It is a strange pain - a small and insignificant pain most of the time. It only becomes noticeable when I really let my head and my heart dig into it. It is like when you lose a tooth - at first you notice the hole, and eventually you forget that it existed.

Until you remember.

And you mentally go back over and over again because it feels uncomfortable. You pick and you poke and you prod and you ponder.

I find him in the weirdest places. I started putting sliced tomatoes in the oven - a delicious habit that I thought my brain concocted, until my mom said ‘Your dad used to do the same thing!’. It hit me in a weird way. Like using a blanket at a friend’s house…comforting but new.

My mannerisms. My love of logic and numbers and financial security. All come from him and his interests and his demeanor.

They’re engrained in me - like my fingerprints.

And yet.. I feel such a disconnect from where they come from. It is like pulling at the end of a string expecting there to be a balloon - and then the balloon doesn’t exist. It did… but it isn’t there anymore.

What is this mourning? What is this need to understand myself? My heritage? My family? I find myself really enjoying the family trees my sister finds - like we are all one big piece of a puzzle.

I’m not lost all of the time. I think we all develop coping skills, even if my family’s are a bit darker than others. But I do randomly get angry. I’ll see a scene on tv of a man that stupidly sacrifices himself for his family or his village, and I’ll find myself yelling at the tv ‘What a stupid decision! Does he even know that his sacrifice means nothing when his family is lost and heartbroken without him?’.

…I’m sure I’m very popular with the masses for this reason.

…maybe it is why I’m not invited to movie watching parties..

I don’t think anyone would truly understand this unless they lost someone close to them. It seems so brave and heroic until it is real, and someone is gone, and children grow up with empty spaces they aren’t sure how to fill.

I don’t quite have the answer. For every child that has to grow up with their parent being a mystery, I see you.

I understand feeling like part of your identity and belonging are missing. I understand feeling like there is a hole inside.

I see you if you lost a parent recently. I see you if you lost a parent as a child before you really got to experience and know them.

I see you - and you are not alone.

So for this 30th anniversary, I’m going to hold a space for all of you.

I’ll look back, and mourn what could have been, and let myself feel it.

We honestly all deserve to let ourselves feel it.

XOXO,

Windham

Embrace the Bitter

We ran out of coffee creamer this morning.

Not just coffee creamer, actually.

We were out of milk, almond milk, creamer, creamer packets..

And so I had to sit and stare at my cup of black and bitter coffee and sit and think a bit. Of course, I’m not one that really minds black coffee. I survived on it in college. However, now I’ve learned that to combat my polycystic symptoms, I really need to add a sugar and a fat in every cup I drink.

Drinking coffee black is not my norm now.

However.. as I looked at it and then finally gave in, I found myself enjoying the taste. There is a richness to coffee that you really can miss when mix it with other flavors. There is a depth. And I’m not going to lie.. a pretentiousness as well.

We’ve started the process of figuring out housing here on the homestead. The Big House on the homestead is not the long term solution for our family since more family will be here soon. We won’t be at the top of the mountain, but the side.

However..

There is this fun little problem called the housing market..

And the economy..

And the rising prices..etc.

At first my mother-in-law and I went around to some mobile home stores. Clayton Homes, to be exact. I liked the idea of a Clayton - I could have something small and simple, and we’d save up for a few years and eventually be able to build the dream home. But when we walked in, I found that you really don’t get to choose as many options as you think you would. The warehouse is over 6 months behind for their basic homes, and once you get the delivery, septic, well, and setup, you’re looking north of 200k.

And on top of it, even if we went with a single wide, you have to build a mobile home on a permanent foundation to even be able to get a loan.

Is it really a simple short term solution if it is more expensive than building and will depreciate in value over the next 30 years? Does it really work for our family if we won’t even be able to roll it to another part of the property? Because honestly.. how perfect would that be? A cute little area for guests to visit, for parents with allergies to stay, etc..

That is the dream.

But if built on a permanent foundation, removing the home from the original site would damage the house.

Okay..so what about a tiny house?

We have space elsewhere on the property to use for offices..etc..

But did I mention that we have a cat? A chubby and naughty tabby that we rescued from a Chick-fil-A parking lot.

And did I mention that we have 5 sugar gliders?

I’ll probably write about them soon.. they’re certainly unique enough in experience.

And did you know that tiny homes can cost a lot to set up when you aren’t a contractor?

…..

What about a cabin kit?

What a grand idea! Let’s look into cabin kits!

I had a phone call with our loan officer.. and we found out that cabin kits are only cheaper if you put it together yourself.

And… you cannot get a loan for the kit itself unless you have a licensed contractor that is able to put it together for you.

So.. you’re looking at $300k for the cost of a cabin kit after hiring out contractors.

….

What about stick built?

We’ve started the process of looking.. but right now are finding the price to be almost $400k to simply build when you add things like a basement and a deck (which are needed for the side of a mountain property).

It is honestly extremely overwhelming.

I find it easy to look at the people around me and compare my life to theirs. I find myself being bitter and judgmental and frantic and manic trying to change my circumstances.

If I save $10 each week this year.. will that be enough to start building a house in a year? If I stop buying things for the shop.. will that give me enough for a down payment?

How do other people save?

I’m frantically scanning and scrolling and reading..

Until I’m not.

And I’m hushing the frantic voice in my head telling me that I need ALL. THE. ANSWERS. RIGHT. NOW. AND. MUST. RESEARCH. EVERYTHING. RIGHT. NOW.

What if.. I don’t need a plan right now? What if.. this season is to teach me how to handle all that life can throw at me?

If I believe that life has purpose beyond myself and there are things out there greater than myself.. then.. is it possible that I’m not supposed to have all the answers? Is it possible that I’m not supposed to let myself get scared and manic.. despite the world telling me otherwise?

I know it is easier to say these things than to act on them. Or.. at least not REact to them.

Maybe today is a day to sit on this porch.. to look out and drink my coffee. To dream and garden and feel these blessings one day at a time. To sit in the uncomfortable and learn from it -

Are we meant to run from being uncomfortable? Are we really meant to be comfortable 100% of the time? Isn’t it unhealthy?

I think humans are all meant to struggle a little. To fight and grow a bit..to learn and commune and live with each other.

I promise.. when I learn the individual steps that are needed to build a house in a way that is manageable.. I’ll take you all with me. I’m such a worrywart.. I can’t help but give you guys a step by step list.

Today.. I want you to look around and see the things you DO have. We don’t have to hustle constantly and we don’t have to sit and think about what we don’t have or want or need.

(Obviously I’m not talking about being in a dangerous place of need or sitting in a place that is unsafe… that doesn’t need to be said).

However, I do want you to shake off the comparison trap. Shake off the need to know all of the answers. Know that seasons have purpose. Revel in the richness of your life TODAY.

Drink the black coffee.

And embrace the bitter.

You Gotta Be Fit to Run a Farm..

I bet there are a lot of people that would disagree with me. I know that there are a lot of farmers out there with below optimal health. I know that there are a lot of farmers’ wives with tighter fitting trousers than they had 20 years ago. I also know that there are machines that can simplify the work for you, and that you don’t have to break your body to be proud of the land you work.

I’m honestly torn with the new ‘body positivity’ movement. I see it in my face constantly. Influencers telling you that it doesn’t matter what size you are, healthy is subjective.

On one hand, I think I should allow my body to age and take up the space it needs. I know that I’m not 15 anymore.. and I also know that when I was stick thin at 22 it was because I was engaging in unhealthy habits. I know that my body wants to have curves and hips and hold on to squishiness so it can possibly create life in a healthy way some day.

I know that I deserve to fuel myself. I don’t have to put myself into an aesthetic.

I know all of this.

And yet.. I find myself huffing and puffing down the driveway when I go to check my mail. I find clothes tighter than they used to be, and they’re clothes that I really want to be able to keep in my wardrobe. I’m exhausted after dinner and lacking energy to really take care of the things that need to be taken care of.

So while I agree.. I should let myself take up space.. I also need to be honest with myself and stop being so dang lazy. I deserve to be stronger.

Which starts with nutrition.

I’ve never been a health nut. I’m definitely a bread first thing in the morning and a coffee on an empty stomach type of girl. But when I had my blood tested and we found that my hormones were a bit out of whack, I realized that to keep a farm running.. you need to keep your health in check. I can’t be running on an empty tank. I started researching (mainly on instagram), and I found two health accounts that really focus on fueling your body properly so your hormones can be healthy. Did you realize that as women, we need to maintain our hormones? Our hormones are honestly the building blocks of our health.

I know I won’t be able to really explain as well as others, but here are two women I reallllllly have enjoyed reading.

https://www.jessicaashwellness.com/

https://www.instagram.com/heal.with.fifi/?hl=en

Both of these women have found similar things, but have different mental approaches. Jessica has a bit more of a gentle tone, and Fiona tends to be more blunt. I enjoy reading/listening to them both. I’ve already noticed a huge shift in my energy. Small changes, like protein first thing in the morning and putting a sugar and a fat in my coffee. (Maybe some day I’ll cave and give up coffee altogether).

The second change? Activity.

I’ve always hated running. I cannot stand going to the gym, I hate to sweat, and I get severely self conscious when people confront me about my activity level. I’m not sure where that stems from, but I’m sure I was scarred in my childhood in some random way. Isn’t that where all problems stem?

I try to get outside a bit every day. I’ve noticed that if I can just get outside in the first place, I can breathe. I find myself in the sun and wanting to walk and explore.

However.. we are in winter.

…in the cold.

..in the damp.

And I’m sure a lot of you all don’t have acres and acres to walk at your leisure. If you are anything like me and extremely anxious about the gym, try this puppy on for size -

https://sunnyhealthfitness.com/products/total-body-advanced-stepper-machine-sf-s0979?currency=USD&utm_medium=cpc&utm_source=google&utm_campaign=Google%20Shopping&gclid=Cj0KCQiAi8KfBhCuARIsADp-A57KhtOQwOC9cfQIyE6ZI8AHE6r77UcTcaLLaUdXuOlSqB4M210GMhoaAndzEALw_wcB

I’m serious - and no, I’m not paid for this at ALL. I literally just adore this thing. It was a Christmas present (don’t worry, I requested it), and I use it all. the. time.

I put on New Amsterdam and just walk. I started out with 5 minute intervals, and before I knew it I was able to do 12-15. I’m still working on getting higher, but my goal is to do 30 minutes a few times a week, and then supplement my steps/cardio with working and feeding animals and gardening.

Speaking of gardening…

I’ve started germinating some seeds.

That’s all I will say - I want to make an updated post.

In the meantime, know that you are worth taking care of. Small steps matter - and they make a big difference.

It is okay to let your body grow - and it is also okay to want better for yourself.

I’m ready to keep going.

XOXO,

Windham

But.. it’s ugly

I think we’ve all seen Anne of Green Gables by now. Or The Secret Garden. These movies about extravagant and beautiful places to live and wander around in while cloaked in air that smells of peaches and vineyards. You can hear the chickens clucking and cows mooing and you get to live in a floral skirt and make homemade tea and soaps.

Paradise, right?

Except it isn’t. We’ve moved to an amazing piece of land and every morning I drink my coffee and am so dang excited to be here, but I also am impatient. I want to have the amazing fairy garden of my dreams!

I want to save the bees and have butterflies dancing on my fingertips while I sit in my prairie dress and dig in the soft dirt! I dream of being able to recommend certain types of flowers to ‘newbie gardeners’ while I secretly scoff because I know that my green thumb is the most superior thumb in all the land! Muahaha!

On a more grounded note my dream is to have the she-shed designated as my storage/shipping station/office where I can pack orders and print shipping labels and keep my gardening and photography supplies. Did I mention that the house comes with a she-shed? It is the CUTEST little building that has electricity and access to our Wi-Fi. It isn’t heated, but we can easily move in a space heater no problem.

The main issue? I’ll show you.

The lovely garden.

The lovely other garden.

It looks so ugly!!!

The side and back of the she-shed are coated in thick thorns that may have at one time been amazing blackberry bushes, but are now so mixed up with other types of brambles and dead tree limbs that there is no way to grow anything. There is old trash and an old play fort in the main flower garden simply decomposing with time and rain. A bucket full of odds and ends sits at the edge of the overgrown flower bed. Just looking at it feels impossible.

And yet… I can see it. I can smell it too - the spring air filled with a mini field of wildflowers suitable for drying and welcoming my pollinator pals.

…sigh..

The truth is, I’m going to have to do it myself. As I write this, my hands are covered in welts and my legs are scraped to ribbons from all of the thorns I’ve been encountering.

I’m going to have to learn about it all myself. I’ve already learned what a lopper is - and I’ve learned about composting and how I need to start saving my coffee grounds. I’ve learned that it is much easier to go foot by foot to get rid of the thorns than to try and burrow down to the root. I’ve also learned that while worship music is peaceful, there is nothing quite like listening to My Chemical Romance while yanking thorns out of my hair.

I feel beaten up, but also optimistic. I’ve cleared out almost half of the left-side garden, and I think I can at least have some room for lavender plants in the main flower garden outside the she-shed French doors. I’ve also purchased some seeds from Etsy. I have picked a variety, but I am focusing on wildflowers that are native to my region, and wildflower mixes that do well in the shade.

When I get ready to plant/start growing I’ll post exactly which Etsy shops I purchased from, and we will be able to watch them grow and bloom together!

While this post may not have the perfect ‘after’ shot like most blogs do.. I also think it is extremely vital to share the process. Today I feel antsy for the next warm day that is free. I am in a very ‘research guru’ mode. I may not have the garden of the my dreams in the next 6 months, but I know that it’ll happen.

I just have to dig in my heels and make it happen myself.

Thorns and all.

XOXO,

Windham

Embrace the Sour

The idea for this blog started over Christmas of 2022. I was sitting on the side of our very long driveway recording my husband saw the limbs off of a very sturdy tree that had blown over in the snowstorm.

We were both bundled up to the extreme and a little nervous. This was the first real test of ‘homestead’ living. Our driveway was completely blocked by this tree, and we had just moved into our little town. We knew no one, not even the neighbors. There was no one to ask for help - but if I’m being honest, neither of us would have wanted to. We were determined in our bones to really buckle down and do this ourselves.

We had always grown up in the suburbs. I was from a large pastor’s family that was always moving to different neighborhoods, and he grew up in a stable military family that settled down in a really safe part of the South. We had been living in an apartment near my parents for our first two years of marriage, and felt really disillusioned and uncomfortable.
’Why is everyone on top of each other? We can’t breathe.’
’My mental health is struggling, I find it hard to stay motivated to exercise.’
I really was wanting to WANT again. I wanted to be excited to get up and breathe every morning, to find the purpose in the little things each day. We had a small community (honestly it was all me, I’m more of the needy socialite in our marriage), but my husband was missing his family and my parents weren’t sure what they wanted long term.
I’d always talked about wanting a farm or a cabin in the woods. Something more remote with possibly a creek for our kids to splash in. We weren’t sure about kids, but our dream babies always had more than an apartment or a maze of houses that all looked the same.
I remembered visiting a family when I was a kid - a homeschooled family we knew from church that had 5 kids and no television. I stayed with them for a week when my parents went on vacation one year, and I never forgot the hours of fun we ended up having outside and how the tv was brought down from the attic on special occasions to watch an occasional cartoon.
How could we bring this lifestyle to ourselves when we didn’t even know how to start? We certainly weren’t farmers. I honestly had trouble keeping outside plants alive - but my pothos inside were thriving. Maybe that was a glimmer into a future full of plants and life and goats?…
His parents ended up bringing up the idea of a ‘commune’ when we expressed unhappiness, and we were overeager.
They wanted a slower pace and neighbors a little further out, and we wanted to feel good about the work we did with our hands.

We were game, and so the work to find the property began.

….During a pandemic.

….In an extremely competitive real estate market.

Multiple times our dream properties were snatched from our hands until we decided to take a leap and look into relocating to a smaller town.

And we found her -

A homestead on endless acreage up a gorgeous mountain with a view like you can only dream of.

The problem?

….the driveway.

It was long, curvy, ditchy, and was now stopped up by a pine tree that had been completely frozen inside.

Our first Christmas at the homestead, and we were snowed in with no power, no heat, and a tree down. This was honestly the first test. A bunch of my friends seemed surprised by the move, since we seemed like city people in our circles. …but honestly, how do you seem like farming people? Wear overalls everywhere? Grow tomatoes on the back deck? Talk about cross-pollinating corn? Now it was our time to prove them wrong -

By sawing off these limbs by hand.

I honestly have no idea why the universe decided to send a large tree to fall in our driveway that Christmas. Maybe it was giving us the chance to turn around and run back to civilization. Maybe it was teaching us what we were really made of.
I personally believe that it was teaching me to make some lemonade out of the giant lemon blocking me from visiting family on my favorite holiday.

As my husband finished up the sawing (and realized with the last snap of the branch that he had broken our tiny hand-saw), we worked on rolling the limb into the ditch of the driveway. This would work until we had more hands and a better saw.

This was when I decided to start documenting our life. To talk about what it takes to start a little hobby farm and to live far away from family and friends and to start over. To write about the failures and successes. The good and the bad. The sour and the sweet.

And in those moments when the sweet moments seem too far away, I’m hoping that we will be able to really look at each other and make the daily decision to fully embrace the sour.

XOXO,

WINDHAM