A Toast Tonight.

In our yard, one tree stands sentry.
New leaves move like rooted moths in the slight night breeze,
and I am lonesome for living again without lights and without neighbors,
when the dark and quiet meant for nights like this remain unbroken by streetlamps and angry shouts.

There is something to be said for life in town, which, unexpectedly and almost unnoticed, made itself friendly in the last two years, but I'm not the one to say it tonight. I like the solid voice of trains in my sleep, a sound that grew from nuisance to comfort, but I gladly leave the bark of futile rage.

I'm not homesick- home rests centered in Beloveds- but I do feel landsick anew, so although I'll have a few townie roots to pull, here's to the steady song of peepers and crickets and to fields lit alive with lightning bugs.
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My grandpa on my mom's side was a dairy farmer, with a farm right down the road from my growing-up home. He owned over a thousand acres (which explains why John calls him a land baron instead of a farmer), and most of it was divided among the remaining siblings when my grandparents and aunt died 14 years ago. Now my mother gives of her share to her children. We don't view this blessing of family land lightly, especially because we would probably never be able to live near land so large on our own means.

And now, thanks to a call from my sister last night, we will be moving soon into a former hotel from the 1800's. It contains three apartments, one of which she and her family live in and one into which me and my family will soon, sight unseen, be moving. To sweeten the pot, it has an already tilled garden and a chicken coop. We quickly nibbled this worm, and we'll move within the month, which means sorting and packing need to be done in earnest flurry now, instead of in halfhearted laze. We'd live there until this fall, at least, and possibly until next summer, depending on how smoothly (or not-so) loans and land-clearing and house-raising proceed. We still have a half-burnt shell of a house and a collapsed barn to clear, so we'll begin with first things first, which is a fine way to begin.
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News of the Chillens

Susannah- The little hints with which she's been teasing us have finally grown to full-burst smiles! So stinkin' cute. Usually by this time, each child's lullabye has popped into my head, but not so with Susannah. Could it be because every time she cries, instead of my mouth shaping new words as I sing, this comes out instead?

Annika- She is the supreme (albeit inept) copycat and presently uses her bellybutton to nurse her doll.

Millie- A choice quote...
Me: Millie, go use the bathroom before bed.
Millie: I don't have to go.
Me: I want you to try, anyway.
Millie: Trots obediently to the bathroom and says, strong and sure,
"I already tried eight weeks ago!"
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In other news, we had a wonderful weekend visiting with people who came to our church to attend the examination of two men who wished to become elders in the FORC, the girls and I sowed grass seed in our garden today (for shame!), and in still other news, Mr. Realtor Man called because he wants to show the apartment tomorrow, which leads to the final bit of news-- I'm going to mop the floor right now.