this day

Oh, hello September.  I forgot how gloriously full you are, and a bit intense too, I must say.  This three-day weekend found us up to our necks in harvest.  Our kitchen was a constant tangle of hot steaming canners, tomatoes, peppers, apples, raspberries, and kids.  Sometimes it was beautiful and even rather organized, often it was borderline nutty.  

We came out on the other side, with another gallon bag of pesto cubes in the freezer, several more gallons of raspberries-frozen, 40 quarts of tomatoes, 6 pints of pickled peppers (say that 9 times fast), and about 6 bushels of apples ready for our neighbor's cider press. 

Two of those three days were relatively peaceful, maybe even graceful at times.  The other day (that would be today) was not.  Just not.  Today it was fighting and picking from the moment they hit the breakfast table, it was whining and not being able to do a single thing for oneself.  There was rudeness and anger, there were tears, and by the end of the night exhausted, delirious giggles from two parents who simply couldn't take another demand or complaint- even though they kept coming.  And it wasn't just the kids who acted without kindness and respect.  I'm taking full ownership of my role in this long day.  This long day that I'd like to rewind and embrace with a deep breath.  An armload of patience and compassion.  Less talk, more listening.  Greater love, less judging.  

But, it was just a day.  And tonight I can take that deep breath, and wrap myself in a bit of compassion and let go of the judgement.  Tonight I can be thankful--so thankful--for a weekend spent together in a hot steamy kitchen putting by food that will grace our plates when the snow falls.  I can be thankful that we modeled for our kids the hard work it takes to get that done, that we welcomed their hands when they wanted to help (even if we'd have rather just done it ourselves) and that they saw (and hopefully felt) our joy and gratitude for this life full of bounty.   

It's off to bed, to dream of bursting gardens and a new day.  Another new day.