Morning turned beautiful


I woke up to the sound of rain drizzling down. I sighed.

Our landlady and the bug guy decided that early morning was a good time to treat our house. Early enough that the baby would still be asleep.

And then? He showed up even earlier than scheduled. I wasn’t thrilled.

After all, one of THE rules of motherhood is you don’t wake up a sleeping toddler. And today, I had to get her up an hour early. I didn’t have a chance to do anything but grab her shoes and go outside.

But here is where it gets good.

Somewhere between the early morning drizzles and me rushing around trying to pull things away from the walls and then rushing my baby awake, the sun had come out. The last of autumn was glowing in all glory. It was warm. It was beautiful. I felt like I had stepped into something magical.

What I feared would be one of the worst mornings of my crazy week ended up being one of the best.


Charlotte had a blast. I walked around trying to soak in the joy and the glory and feeling awed at each new glimpse of beauty.

Thank you, Lord for redeeming ordinary and even annoying inconvenient moments and making them beautiful.


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what’s on our table



Art comes in many different forms. For me, making a pretty plate with local food is one of the ways I unwind. When I try something new, and it looks appetizing on the plate, it makes something in my heart feel alive. Here’s what’s been on the table at the Brankshire home this summer. Best part? Most of the vegetables came from a tiny little patch right outside of my door. Can’t beat the flavor of food that was picked 10 seconds before it hit your table.

What’s been cooking for you guys this summer?

blog while the baby sleeps

Before I became a mama, I heard all kinds of things about the glorious naptime moments when your hands would be free to do a little work, a little sleep, a little reading, or a little writing. It was the common knowledge among all motherhood that naptime was for getting things done.  I thought it’d be like that for me too.

Well, eleven plus months ago, I became a mama too. For the first three or four months, I was in survival mode.  Everything felt a little blurry behind recovery from surgery as well as labor, and adjustment to motherhood. My baby cried. A lot.  She had reflux. She had colic. I don’t know if one caused the other or if it was just bad luck. But she slept best…and often only…snuggled up in mama’s arms. I can’t say that I minded at all.  Baby days pass so quickly. I knew that all too well.

But,  the colic went away finally. The crying didn’t happen as much. There were smiles and giggles and sweet baby talk. It has been a wonderful 11 months.

Naptime and getting things done? Well…that’s been something else.

I can easily count the number of times my arms are free during naptime.  Baby girl still sleeps best snuggled up against mama. She still rarely sleeps more than 45 minutes at a time. No matter what I’ve tried, it is what it is. And honestly, I still can’t say that I mind too very much that her favorite place to fall asleep is tucked into my arms, or leaning against my chest. It won’t be long before she doesn’t nap anymore. I want to treasure these snuggles as long as I can.

But dishes, laundry, and blogging while the baby sleeps? Those happen once in a blue moon. Most often on work days,  I work with one hand while cradling her sleepy self with the other. With naptimes that short, it’s only just enough time for my leg and arm to fall asleep before she’s up and ready to play again anyway.

Then of course, there’s that one rare day when for some reason, the little miss decides it’s a good day to take a really long nap. Like one that  lasts for an entire hour or maybe a little more! On her own, snuggled in bed.

And even more rare, it lands on a day like today . The dishes are done. The floors are clean.  My hands are free.  So what do I do?

Go sneak back to the bedroom every 10 seconds to watch my baby sleep.

Getting Alaska

Even though I have lived down South for a whopping four years now, I still haven’t perfected my “southern” apparently.

I’m a Washington Born, Alaska Grown Transplant. I’m pretty sure everyone  here knows that by now.  But down here? I like to fancy that I look just about like a normal Southern girl.  And probably that’s all in my head.

The truth is, when you grow up in Alaska, you just have a different perspective on a lot of things like temperature, and distance, day light and what a mountain looks like, for example.  You aren’t necessarily stronger, but maybe you’ve had to be tougher. After all, there’s not necessarily a Publix or a Dollar Tree or Walmart five minutes away up North. And the mention of snow isn’t going to get you out of School. 

But that’s all beside the point. I really love my new Southern roots. I have fallen in love with the novelty of four seasons, seven foot tomato plants, humidity (I’m serious.) and fireflies.

And after four years, almost no one asks me about where I’m from anymore. Maybe I look like I’ve settled in.

But now and then, I get busted for the Northern girl I grew up. Usually this is  when I say things about  flags, bags or rags. And sometimes when I try to talk about berms.

And every once in a great while, I bump into someone who gets it. Someone who has been where I’ve been. Who knows “my” mountains. Who understands how cold and dark and long Alaskan winters are, and also how absolutely indescribably beautiful the Aurora Borealis is. Someone who knows why Fourth of July isn’t about fireworks up there. And can understand what it’s like to dodge a moose.

Because just like these new Southern friends who talk about childhood down south, unless you’ve lived there, it’s hard to really get it.

It’s crazy to realize how much cultural differences that there are in our own nation. And as much as I love my new home, sometimes it’s really good to bump into someone who can share survival stories from the days we roughed it up North.

And thank goodness for me, no one here has any reason to know or talk about berms because I’ve seen and shoveled through enough of those to last me for the rest of my life. I don’t miss my old home state as much as I thought I might. I think I may be a Southerner at heart in a lot of ways. But sometimes the memories are best shared with someone who understands it.

So to the new  people who I had fun talking with recently, thanks for getting Alaska with me. It was a blast.

this is how the garden grows

After a miserably wet (cold, moldy…) 2013 in which my garden washed away twice and drowned the rest of the year, 2014 is feeling good.

I may have had to plant an  entire month late due to a colder-than-normal spring. I may have planted another month late because our tiller broke down and we had been trying to hand dig a new plot in a less likely to flood area. But…I have a garden, and it is growing. It makes me happy every time I go  out and take care of it to see flowers and fruit forming.

Oh, it’s not perfect. I haven’t figured out how to keep all the blight away. But I’m still pretty happy about what I see.

Today, Charlotte and I picked a pile of Anaheim peppers.  It’s our first harvest, and we’re excited!

What’s growing in your neck of the world right now?

Rule # 1 of gardening: as soon as it’s picked, you gotta taste it.


light bulb moments


I think I had a strange light bulb moment this month. 

I’ve been running on almost empty for a while now, and I didn’t really notice it until that warning light had been on for far too long. All of a sudden, you come to a sputtering halt and  you wonder what on earth just happened. Yeah, that was me this month.

I love working for my own business. I love working from home. But sometimes I don’t know how to just stop. If I open my computer, it’s like I think I absolutely must work. So I do.

And then I never write anymore. Or spend a lazy afternoon with pen and paper. Or read anything. Creativity gets to be drowned out in productivity.

And then I hit the low spot of being empty and tired. It’s a place that’s best avoided by balance.  I should know that by now.

So I told myself that this weekend was for everything except working. For writing blog posts, and letters, and cooking just for fun. For digging up more garden space and for pretending that I actually left all my work at the office and can’t get back to it until Tuesday.

I decided today was write a blog post about anything that comes to your mind day. No planning, and editing and pouring over it to get the words just right. Just write.

So that’s what I just did. You know, I almost felt like it was the good ol’ days of blog beginnings again. Winking smile 

Maybe I should do this more often? I’m thinking the answer is YES!

I can’t put her down

Sometimes, hands filled with a wiggling, bouncing not-quite-five month old, I find a corner of my mind running lists of  things I need to do, should do. There’s another list for the things I should have done and the deadlines that like to sneak up on me.

I smile and play pat-a-cake and don’t get me wrong: I love ever moment of it. I love the wiggles, and the giggles, and the little grabby hands that try to help me type while I’m working and send emails for me when I get up to grab a glass of water.

I don’t want these days to ever end. I just can’t seem to keep up with it all. So I think about nap time. Those sometimes 30 minutes (if I’m lucky!) of not having to worry if she’s about to roll herself into some disaster or to be distracted by baby talk and books when I “should” be working to keep ahead of a deadline.

But then she falls asleep. Snuggled against me, with a tiny hand holding onto mine. Fuzzy little head, nestled against my shoulder or chest. Perfect little nose.  Little sleeping eyes.


I’m tired, maybe. I could type and work with two hands for a few minutes, yes.

But I just can’t do it. I can’t put her down.

My 2014 list

I love New Years. I love it because it is all about fresh, new starts. New chances, new opportunities, new experiences—and all the potential tucked into 365 days of another year.

At the beginning of the year, I like making a few resolutions. I am painfully aware of how easy it is to make resolutions and how un-easy it is to follow through for an entire year. I know how good intentions don’t necessarily equal a flawless performance of all the resolutions all the time.

But I think everyone needs a few goals to reach for every year. It gives a person something to aim for, something to motivate them to keep reaching high. 

So with the new year just a few days old, I came up with a list—my 2014 list of 14 things I’d like to do this year.  It’s a little random and maybe a little less lofty than some I’ve written.  Who knows what 12 months of living is going to do to the goals I think sound good now, but here’s to trying.

My 2014 List

  1. Listen to the Bible through at least twice.
  2. Read at least 12  books and review them.
  3. Read to Charlotte from the Bible every day.
  4. Make a Soufflé.
  5. Grow my business and reach my goal of xhrs/week
  6. Plant a spring garden.
  7. Eat more raw foods.
  8. Blog at least once a week.
  9. Start intentionally counting blessings again.
  10. Go camping again.
  11. Write one real letter a month.
  12. Sell our truck.
  13. Take a trip for our Fifth Anniversary.
  14. Try to find a perfect cinnamon roll recipe.

What’s on your list?

then it rained {why I’m thankful for Okra}

Freshly turned dirt always makes me excited.

From the time we pulled up last year’s tomato vines and turned under the late summer weeds, I’d been planning for the day we’d plant again. I had such great hopes for a veggie filled year. I just couldn’t wait to get started.

Spring had been slow in coming this year, though. It just seemed to rain from January straight through to mid April.

When it finally stopped raining long enough for a part of our garden patch to dry out, we were weeks behind—but in a place like Tennessee, that doesn’t matter quite so much.

Scott tilled the soil up, and I raked it into beds. We spent all afternoon and all evening preparing and planting our little patches of beans, okra, corn and tomatoes. We put in squash and cucumbers and melons. It was going to be beautiful and I couldn’t wait to taste the fruits of our labors.

The very next day after we had spend all those hours making beds and planting seeds, the sky opened up in a torrent of rain. It rained in sheets. A flash flood swept across our beautiful just-planted garden. It washed across my front lawn, and made a couple small rivers right in the middle of the garden. It rained for three solid days.

When the rain let up a little, I ran out to look at the damage. The trenches were deep. There were a mix of bean seeds and okra seeds and corn seeds washed around in puddles. The tomato plants had fallen over.

So I rebuilt the beds. I planted the seeds again. And within days, it washed it all away again.

But five months of pregnancy and flash floods couldn’t stop my determination. I was going to have a garden this year! I replanted what I could as soon as it was dry enough to work the dirt again.

And this time, they sprouted. My bean plants were beautiful. The corn was growing almost faster than I could watch it. Okra came up thick and strong. I had lots of flowers on my squash plants. I could almost taste the sweet rewards of fresh tomato and cucumber sandwiches.

Just as my beans put out a bumper crop of blossoms, it started raining again.

It rained and rained and rained. The ditches I dug filled and overflowed. The whole entire world was soggy. And it kept raining.

Two weeks later, the sun peeked out of the clouds for the first real time since the rain began. My garden was a mess. I tried to tie it up. I tried to keep the waterlogged plants alive. But the rain just kept coming.

Plants molded and died. Squash couldn’t get pollinated. Rusts and mildews attacked the tomatoes and it was too rainy to properly treat them.

My garden was a complete flop. There would be no corn on the cob, mounds of fresh from the garden beans or cucumber sandwiches. There wouldn’t even be summer squash.

But there would be one thing.

Somehow, in spite of the flooding, the mess and the deer that okra still grew. It grew taller and taller and when it started producing, there was more than I could have expected or hoped for.

We ate okra for almost every meal. We put it in sauces, we breaded it, we put it on pizza. We even ate it raw!

Many gardeners and farmers around us shared in the loss of produce. It was a hard year for those who rely on growing things to make a living.

So every time I picked yet another bag of okra, I counted it as a bag of blessings.

Every time I diced up yet another pan full for supper, I said a thank you. All that hard work, all those hours and all those days of hoping through the rainiest year in 40 + years had its reward after all. We still had our okra. It made replanting a little more worth it.

I’m looking forward to another year–hopefully a better year when it comes to gardens and produce. But that persistent okra? It stood up in the never ending rain and bloomed and reminded me of courage and hope.

It was a little-but-great way that God reminded me to never give up. It pays to keep trying.

This post is a part of GREATHINGS 2013: 21 Days of Thanks. Click here to read the rest of the series.

The Job

We celebrated a milestone two months ago. It’s been one year since Scott started working at the University.

If I had to pick a handful of really Great Things that happened to us in the past few years, this would be one of them. 

After two years of unemployment uncertainties, and applying for every job possible–including quite a few at the University–with no success, we were low on hope. I felt like my courage was fast fading.  It seemed like the lucky few who actually got good jobs were those who knew someone who already worked there. And we were the new kids in town.

Well, a year ago, we were tired of trying and tired of hoping. It felt like we were trapped by our circumstances, and it was hard to keep hopeful. Getting decent jobs was completely out of our control. And trust was a daily, sometimes difficult choice we had to make as we struggled through our days.

I wanted to give up so many times. It was just so exhausting to constantly be looking for work. But I’ve always believed that either you find a way or you make a way. And that means you never stop trying.  And then I saw The Job.

It was perfect. The description fit Scott to a T. It was exactly what he excelled at, and we only had to compete with 1000 other applicants. After all the times we’d tried, it felt pointless to hope that we had a chance at it. But then, what could it hurt?

We filled an application. Just about the time we’d forgotten all about it, Scott got a call about an interview. I prepared myself for it to be yet another dead end. Two hours after the interview, he got the job.

I was speechless. Sometimes I still am.

We don’t know how long Scott will be able to work for the University. Times are uncertain and if the big layoff in 2009 taught us anything, it was that nothing is certain in this life.

But almost every day, we thank God for this job. We thank Him for how it provides for our needs. We thank Him for the unexpected extra things it enriches our lives with. Aside from our dream of our own bit of farmland someday, this is as close to a dream job as an 8-5 could get for Scott.

And we are so grateful for how God provides–even impossible-to-get jobs when we need them most.

This post is a part of GREATHINGS 2013: 21 Days of Thanks. Click here to read the rest of the