"Focus Up!"

Yesterday was a great day making cards with my daughter, Brook, and my sister, Stephanie.  We spent the afternoon "being creative" as we laughingly teased each other and "militantly" (Brook's word, not mine . . .) crafted thank-you and birthday cards.  At one point in the chatting, Brook mentioned that her dogs had learned the "focus up" command.  When she wants them to pay attention, she tells this command to the jumping, wagging, tongue-lolling hounds, and surprisingly, they've learned to settle and focus.  (I think it's her no-nonsense voice that gets their attention, but that's somebody else's blog about dog training!)  That comment made me think of how focused I am this week; I even have a "master plan!"

As I finish up my major yard projects, I'm starting to get a little lackadaisical about my days.  I believe that after 2 weeks of solid, back-straining, physical labor, I should just let down, you know, kick back.  Saturday afternoon found me in just such a state, and I realized there's no kicking back just yet; there are "miles to go before I sleep."  That's OK with me; I'm not one to laze about for long periods of time.  I always have this sense that time is passing, and I'm not using it to its fullest intent.  Oh, I'm not the gung-ho, hit-it-every-minute-you're-awake sort (I have watched a season of Fringe, countless movies, and read 2 books this summer so far . . .), but getting to the end of the week without accomplishing anything is sure to create crazy in me. So Sunday while Corey was at his morning meeting I created a master plan for the week.  It included finishing the last 2 projects, weeding regularly, making cards, and sewing.  Oh!  And the reason for the picture shown:  GET BACK ON THE MAT!  Since school got out for the summer, I have only sporadically done Yoga, and my inability to sleep comfortably, to move without effort, and to focus/control my brain (thoughts) show it.

Yoga has become my one enduring activity.  It creates focus and balance in all areas of my life:  physical, mental, and spiritual.  As I slowly moved through my totally-abbreviated-because-I-was-forcing-every-pose routine, I realized I had become too judgmental of my practice.  Because I was stiff and out of sync with myself, I focused on the discomfort and lack of desire to be on the mat.  Only when I repeated the mantra "Do not judge.  Accept."  did I allow myself to focus on the breath and flow of the routine.  The last half of the practice went much more smoothly as a result, giving me the rejuvenation I've come to crave from my practice.  I didn't do any balance poses; I know I've been out of balance for almost 6 weeks.  Balance poses require strength, for sure, but they also require a quiet place in the soul to allow the strength to flow to all areas equally.  I KNEW that wasn't going to happen.  I've been possessed by the need to study for and pass the Praxis test, to define and build the new flower bed area, to weed, move, and divide old flower beds.  In short, I have been what Corey calls, "In frenzy mode." I haven't spent much time (Hah!  OK, NO time) meditating, reading scriptures, or even doing Yoga for restoration.  As I did my practice again today, the aversion was overcome a little sooner in the practice.  I still didn't do any balance poses, but I know I'm on my way back from the edge.  My master plan includes fun things as well as projects, and Yoga is back in the plan to keep me honest with myself about what I should focus on to create balance in my life.

I love it when a plan comes together . . .

"Hillside" view to the west

Four summers ago I decided to remove the grass from the "hillside"we had created six summers ago.  I caught a lot of flack from the husband who leveled the area and created the hillside so I could plant it into grass.  (It had previously been a parking area . . .) I caught a lot of flack from the son (not to name names, but his initials are Steven Lyle Smith!) who had to help remove the sod and prepare the ground for planting (really, how hard is it to run a sod-cutter?) I had a good number of well-meaning family members questioning whether or not I needed "to go to all this effort?"  As you can see from the photo, the effort paid off--it's a beautiful addition to our yard.  However, you might also notice the wheelbarrow full of debris; it is a maintenance issue every spring, yet what part of landscaping isn't?  (OK, we're not talking about rocks and concrete . . .)  Anyway, each year I divide ground cover and perennials, moving them to other parts of the landscape, adjusting the beds accordingly.  Last summer I added "hillside" to the west end of the yard (there's just not enough space or time to cover the discussion the purchase of the load of dirt caused . . . )

View of "hillside" to the east before work began

This summer's addition dealt with "shoring up" and defining the edge of the hillside.  I added landscape timbers (garnered from years of buying load levelers for the truck business) to the south of the hillside.  It looked so great I decided to carry on the idea to the east.  I marked out new planting beds using a hose and spray paint.  Steven volunteered (yes, he really did!) to remove the sod and haul it off, bringing back loads of dirt to take its place.  Again, there was some nay-saying going on; people mentioned more than once the amount of work it would be, how long it would take, it's fine as it is, etc, but I was not to be dissuaded from my vision!  It took just 2 1/2 days to remove the sod, bring in timbers and "plant" them, haul dirt, and water liberally to prepare the ground for planting.  Yes, the rose bush that has yielded only weeds, not roses, for 2 years still needs to be removed, but I am very pleased with the end hardscape product.  And no, I really don't think it will ever be a "done deal" project.  These things are always a work in progress; I've learned that from the hillside to the west, but hey, these are the kinds of things I find great joy in doing each and every summer!

Here are some pics of the project (I was too focused on the work to take very many . . .)

A hose and spray paint mark the lines

"El nino" hammer--the great leveler!

The "almost finished" project

Ahhhh . . . farm life!

The title of this post could be a misnomer.  While we do live on a farm, we don't really "farm."  I mean, the only crops we raise are weeds around the place (our renter does the crop growing.)  The only animals we have are 2 cats (+3 new kittens) and 1 dog.  Maybe "Ahhh . . . country life!" might be more appropriate.  Nevertheless, I couldn't help but think of John Denver's "Well life on the farm is kinda laid back Ain't nothing an ole' country boy like me can't hack"  as we went out to rid ourselves of a raccoon that's been plaguing us for some time.


Although it seems like forever since we've been dealing with the 'coon, it's really only been a few weeks.  First we noticed that our "Mother Cat" didn't have her kittens in the pump house; she had them behind boxes and tools piled in the garage.  Since the dog also sleeps in the garage, we wondered why she chose what seemed to be such a precarious location.  A few days later Steven went out to feed the animals (remember the loose use of the term . . .) and noticed the large tubs full of food had been turned over and the lids pried off.  It was then we realized some animal was getting into the pump house.  We took greater steps to tie up the tubs with bungie cords and removed the cat feeders from the pump house at night.  One night when the barking dog barked longer than usual, Steven went outside to see a large raccoon running from the pump house.  The mystery was solved!  A 'coon was now scavenging from our house. For a week we locked up all the food and feeders for the night, hoping the 'coon would be discouraged a try elsewhere.  No luck; as soon as the feed was back in the pump house, the 'coon was back.  The cats have gotten so they won't go in the pump house until we come out and open the big door.  After last night, we can see why.

The closed off entry . . . 

When the dog started barking just before midnight, Steven went out to investigate.  He opened the pump house to see a very large raccoon prying open the lids of the tubs.  He quickly grabbed what was handy and locked in the raccoon.  He triumphantly announced through our partially-opened bedroom window that he had trapped the raccoon, and, by the way, what did we want him to do with it?  Too sleepy to think straight after being abruptly awakened by someone calling in my window I said, "Leave it until morning and we'll make a plan then."  (He must have been somewhat deflated by my less-than-enthusiastic response, but hey, what could a person expect?)  


This morning I waited until 8 o'clock to call the Fish and Game office.  I had thought of a great plan . . . I would ask them to come and "relocate" the raccoon to a happier place.  (I have been trying to practice the yogic attitude of "Do no harm," so I didn't want to just kill it.)  The response I received was quite a bit less than what I'd hoped; "We don't relocate raccoons . . . uh, they're not endangered, or anything . . . if it makes you feel any better about killing it, there are plenty of them around . . . no, not a shortage of them, in fact, they're mainly pests, and if it's discovered your place as an easy source of food, there's no way to get rid of it.  Yes, killing it is probably your only option if it's destroying your property and bothering your pets.  Good luck with that.  

A fairly easy escape route . . . .

So I got off the phone and woke up Steven.  I told him about the phone conversation and ended with the statement, "We'd better use the .22 so it's cleaner.  He was worried it would go right through, doing little to stop the pest.  I said, "We'll just play it by ear."  As we both approached the pump house (with some trepidation on my part--I have no trouble saying we need to kill the thing to get rid of it, but following through is really a whole 'nother thing!) I noticed the back.  We have a board that's broken and I just shove it back in, kinda tucking it up underneath the other part of the board to hold it in place.  It didn't look good.  With consternation mixed with relief, I told Steven I didn't think the raccoon was still in the pump house.  I showed him what I thought had been the escape route.  He agreed and slowly opened the door.  No raccoon in sight.  The cats were milling around, hopeful they would get there morning food.  We fed the pets and tried to plan our next move.  Now we know we can trap it, we're planning how best to do that.  Unfortunately, I think that might require more middle-of-the-night forays.  Oh well, "ain't nothing an ole' country BOY can't hack"  Steven, are you ready?

"Fatigue makes cowards of us all"

These are what I need to get planted . . .

The title of this post is a favorite quote of mine.  It's attributed to Vince Lombardi, and I always think of it when I feel exhausted and still have much to do.  I think of it when I'm feeling depressed about looming events.  I think of it when . . . well, just about whenever.   Lately I've felt exhaustion at every turn, and I've wondered where I used to get all of the energy I once displayed (like in my 20's and 30's)  My mom keeps telling me I do too much.  Really?  That can't be it; I mean, I used to have 5 kids at home (enough said!)  I exercise regularly, try to eat healthily, and go to bed at a good time each night.  I think I might just blame it on my occupation . . .

Being a teacher of English in a middle school is not a carnival ride (except maybe if you think of it in terms of the horrors in the "fun house!")  The last month of the school year is likened to holding on to a team of runaway horses.  However, this year was no different than other years; in fact, I enjoyed my students more the last two weeks of school than I have most of the year.    No, I don't think it's just my occupation.  I think I might just blame it on the weather . . .

This spring has been the coldest one I can remember.  If it wasn't raining, drizzling, grey weather, it was so windy you couldn't open the doors of the car without them being yanked from your hands!  Sometimes it was both.  I don't do well with constantly icky weather.  What else is there to do but eat chocolate and watch T.V?  (Neither of which does much to renew or energize me . . .)  But spring is often like this.  I've lived here long enough to know that, so I don't think it's just the weather.  I think I might just blame it on all of the traveling/gad-abouting we did in May . . .

We took two trips to Utah to see family and I went once to Boise for medical reasons.  I drove my mother to Twin a few afternoons after school.  I was pretty tired after each of these events, but none of them were negative trips; all of them were enjoyable events that turned out to be wonderful moments in my life, so I don't think it's just the traveling around.  I know!  I've had the Praxis test on my mind all month!  I think I might just blame it on the stress of getting ready for the test . . .

In Idaho I'm certified to teach any and all subjects, K-8.  According to No Child Left Behind, I'm only "highly qualified" to teach Reading and English.  That's because since I began teaching I have only taught other subjects for two years;  I have so many years of experience and so many extra classes in the Language Arts field that I'm considered "highly qualified."  In order to be able to teach any other subject I must take A LOT of classes in the subject or pass a national Praxis Test.  I've had to pay a lot of money to take this test, and feeling a great need to pass it, coupled with a fear of not doing so, has created a stressful situation for me.  I've been studying often; I've learned so much more than I did taking the classes the first time in college, and I feel like I'm going to be ready, so I don't think it's just the stress of studying.  It's probably knowing I'm studying and not weeding, planting, fixing-up my yard.  I might just blame it on that . . .

What I've done so far . . .

I have a good-sized yard.  I'm aware of that.  I'm also aware of the fact that because I live in the country I'll always have dandelion seed blowing from alfalfa fields and kocia seed blowing from ditch banks.  I'm also aware of the fact that each year I set my sights on improvement projects that will take most, if not all, summer.  I look out my window and see the beauty of the flower beds and try to imagine them in order, without grass or weeds, and plan the days to water and soften the ground to pull those things.  I recognize the seemingly never-ending round of fertilize, spray, water, weed, mow, etc.  But there is something infinitely satisfying to step back from just such a schedule and sit in a chair in the shade, feeling the total sensory experience of the landscape.  No, it is not the yard work that makes me tired.  In fact, it re-creates my spirit.

Oh no!  As I finish this blog (recognizing the comment from Corey as to its length) I'm realize that maybe, just maybe my mother might have something.  I don't think I'm doing any less than I did when I had 5 kids at home.  (But no, Mom, I don't think I'm doing any more, either!)  And looking back, I don't think I had the boundless energy I like to think I had.  In fact, I think I can remember making many comments to my husband about being "so tired."  Different time, different place, different life-style; same enthusiasm to take on new things that, yes, creates that fatigue that at the end of the day has me wondering what on earth I'm doing with my life that I'm so tired.  Then I think of all things and realize tiredness is NOT fatigue of spirit.  It's just being tired.  I don't mind being tired if I get to experience all of things I do each day.