Late May

Late May.  This is when life begins to feel like the initial plunge upon a roller-coaster.  You know, the one after the gears methodically pulled you up the steep incline - seemingly never finding its way to the top only to find yourself cresting the summit and immediately jerked along, ready or not.  Not too long ago, we were pulling ourselves through the last stages of winter, hoping for some return of green and life.  The cycle of school and jobs was becoming monotonous, and Anna and I were looking forward to being outside:  riding my bike, working in the garden, spreading mulch, beginning new crafts.  But now it has all hit us full force, and our hopes and the land's required tasks are only outpaced by the wild exuberance of our yard, the grass refusing to be tamed, the garden now filling out with food and weeds.  Today, Wyatt and Elise picked three handfuls of strawberries, and there will be at least a few buckets worth this year.

We are trying our best to stay ahead of nature's relentless encroachment this year.  We've already laid down five or six bucket-loads of mulch in various places, aiming to keep some of the weeds at bay.  A few weeks back, I finally dug out the rest of the old fence line in the blackberry bushes, pulled out all the dead canes, and tried to eliminate the wild rose bushes creeping in at the eastern end of the row.  Joe and Lisa seized upon the chance to further tame the madness and have mulched the area with load after load of grass clippings - a resource in abundance after the long and very wet spring.

Even earlier than that, back when the trees were still naked in winter, Anna had me trim some of our fruit trees, hoping to force more of its energy and nutrition into a smaller, yet hopefully healthier crop of pears and apples.  We've put mulch down around some of those trees, planted a new Bing cherry tree for Mother's Day, and marveled at the few small peaches already coming on Elise's tree in only its second season.  I would say we are cautiously optimistic we may actually have made positive steps with the orchard this year.

Anna just finished her first year of homeschooling Wyatt, as well as occasional instruction for Elise throughout the year.  They spent the last few weeks exploring the Roman Empire, including playing dress-up and play-acting in a toga.  Wyatt has been fascinated with Roman history, although perhaps not near as much as he has been with firearms and more modern weapons.  He has entered the stage where he is bound and determined to rid our property of all invaders, or to sneak around our place, running from tree to tree only to take aim at one of us or an unseen danger with whatever instrument of justice he is carrying in his hand.

For her own part, Elise is walking the yard carrying a stick - having decided it is a necessary deterrent to our last remaining rooster, a small black and white bird the kids call Zebra.  I guess a stick will do the job.  It wasn't my first choice.  Last Sunday when we came home from pizza up at the Cooper's, I handed Elise her plastic Lightsaber to fend off the rooster's aggression.  I watched with delight as she repeatedly chased the bird back into the black raspberry bushes - swinging the Jedi weapon wildly and free.

I begin a week of vacation today.  We have plans to travel to Brown County State Park on Wednesday and to spend at least two days there, perhaps three.  We've bypassed the heroism and ruffian ways of camping this year, having booked a room in the lodge with comfortable sleeping arrangements and immediate leisure with an indoor water park.  

I'm feeling a deep desire to get away and so am excited for the trip ahead.  I'm also looking forward to reconnecting more with Anna and the kids knowing there are large parts of them I've missed in recent months. 

On the other hand, I'm mindful of about twenty-five projects that I have not yet finished around this house, and another fifteen that need to be started.  That's the part that feels like I'm on the downward descent of what is sizing up to be a wild ride this summer.

And somewhere in the clutter of the garage is my bike ... okay, bikes:  the two machines of liberation I continue to exhume from the clutter - pushing away out onto the open road.  I have some hope to ride in RAIN (Ride Across Indiana) again this summer, and if I am to do that, I will need to increase the amount of time I'm already spending on a bike, which - frankly - sounds both too strenuous and selfish.

Wes