I feel old tonight.

Tomorrow we are attending a high school graduation party of a terrific young man. I first met Cody when he was a week old and his parents were talking with mine about purchasing some land from us. How can he be graduating high school already? Wasn't it just last year that he was insisting on wearing his Elmo shirt two days in a row? Surely it was just last summer that I would babysit, and Cody and I would take walks on the pea graveled county road with his younger sister, stepping into the long grass every time a car went by.

Thirty three doesn't seem very old most days, but when I look back at all the years that have flown by since I first met that wiggly little baby who is now a gracious young man, I feel old.

What will I feel like when it is my own children who are on the cusp of adulthood?

Vincent is Luis reborn. Luis has a knack for doing anything after just watching it. Vincent inherited it. Vincent also has problem solving skills beyond the normal scope of a four year old.

He started putting up our pop-up camper today. Correctly. If I had come out five minutes later, I have no doubt I would have seen the top raised all the way and the bed partially out. He had to open up the door to get out the crank necessary to put it up. That door was locked, and the only key was with Luis all day. How does a four year old pick a lock?

After putting the camper back to rights, I noticed the garage door was open. It's an old fashioned one without an opener, but he's been able to open it since he was 3. The air pump was out and correctly attached to the fully inflated wheel of his bicycle.

He had been outside alone for a total of 10 minutes.

Can you imagine what he could do in a half an hour?

Summer means bare feet running through the grass.

It means dirty soles, stubbed toes and skinned knees.

Sandals are cast off, strewn around the yard, bright spots of color like flowers amidst the green of the grass.

Run quickly across the scorching pavement to feel the cool softness of the grass on your feet. Do that hop-run as you encounter the thistle papa missed.

Dip your toes in the wading pool, letting the water envelope your feet and lap at your ankles. Stomp in a puddle after an afternoon rain, sending droplets everywhere.

Look out for the rocks hiding in the yard and walk carefully over the mulch. Bandages tattoo small toes caked in dirt, and nails stay rimmed in black even after being washed.

Bare feet have returned to our neighborhood.

Welcome Summer!

Too often we have come to the end of the season and wondered to ourselves "where did it go?" We have driven by the same parks for years and each time commented that we need to stop in there someday. This year, it is someday.

A week ago, when driving by Donald Park and saying yet again that we needed to stop there, we finally turned the car around and stopped there. We then spent the next 90 minutes hiking the trail through the woods and open land. Luis and I talked about things that we hadn't made the time to talk about lately, the kids ran ahead, dawdled behind and threw pieces of grass into the Mount Vernon Creek. Simon looked in wonder at the sky and then napped in the sling.

We made the decision that for the rest of the summer and fall, we will hike together as a family at least once a week.

Today we visited New Glarus Woods state park. We parked the car in nearby New Glarus, then hiked the path over to the park. We watched red wing blackbirds and swallows dive in the prairie and listened to woodpeckers in the woods. At the ranger house, we met the ranger, who is also a non-Christian homeschooler. After an interesting conversation with him, we invited his family to join our homeschool group. We ate our lunch sitting on rocks and found a bench at the top of a hill to sit upon and talk. Abigail took pictures with her camera, and Isabella bounced down hills. Vincent ran down the path, arms flying out the side and his voice filled with joy as he spotted each marker, and Simon alternately napped and stared wide-eyed at the sun-dappled canopy of leaves as he hung out in the mei tai.

The guidebook for the trail was unique. Instead of pointing out various flora and fauna, it posed philosophical question about man's role in the natural world. There were discussion points, things to think about, quotes from people like John Muir and poetry. Much of it was over the children's level of thinking, but Abigail and Isabella did absorb some of it. It gave interesting food for thought.

Four miles and over three hours of living in the moment. It was time well spent.

Organic. It's a buzz word. What does it mean? It means that a food was grown without the use of certain chemicals or pesticides or the fabric material was grown and processed without certain things. That's all.

Organic does not mean healthier for the person eating the food or wearing the shirt. It does not mean that fewer resources were consumed in the making, transport and packaging of the item. It does not mean that the workers who picked the tomato were given a living wage.

I know that our local Sugar River Dairy yogurt is created with milk from a few herds of chemical-free local cows. It's not certified organic, but I know a lot more about it than I do about where Stoneyfield yogurt comes from.

I don't care if the person whom I buy my sweet corn from at the local farmer's market is certified organic because I can talk with her and find out how she grows her corn. I can go pick strawberries and build a relationship of trust the with the grower, knowing first hand how she cares for her plants. I can visit the farm where our beef comes from and see for myself how the cows are pastured and treated. By raising our chickens, I know exactly how our egg layers and meat birds were raised.

I'll take locally grown items over certified organic any day. Certified organic foods from the grocery store don't let me build a community with my purchases. By shopping locally, my dollars stay within our community, my relationships in the area grow and I save the resources it took to transport that strawberry from a continent away.

Nothing is better than the strawberry or tomato that only makes the 20' trip from the garden to our kitchen. Nothing else tastes that good or makes me feel as satisfied. But since that isn't an option for all foods thanks to a city yard, I'm happy to also shop local and so thankful for all the choices I have for non-certified organic foods locally.

Please keep supporting your local food vendors. Help the family farm evolve and survive in a new agricultural world.

Quick update on the last 18 months in case anyone is actually out there reading this. Life has changed a lot

Came back from sister's wedding in Mexico. Fabulous trip. The kids still ask weekly when we can go back.

Clearance sale for Peanut Butter Kisses about two weeks later. It was a quick decision that I'd been mulling over for a while.

About three weeks after deciding to shut down PBK, I decided to get my real estate sales license. Signed up for the class online and studied like crazy for three weeks. Took my test, passed on the first try and joined a local firm two blocks away from my home. I love working as a realtor! It's got all the flexibility I need, and with a cell phone and internet connection, I can do much of my work from anywhere.

Fast forward to summer '06. Decided to try for a fourth baby. Baby was conceived and I had a great pregnancy. I stayed active and watched what I ate, gaining only 20 lbs. Since I started off the pregnancy with extra weight, I wanted to limit my gain to 15-25 lbs.

January '07. Luis is laid off from construction for 1-6 weeks according to his company. We impulsively (long story) take up the carpet in our upstairs hall, living room and sitting room. Luis refinishes the hardwood floors. They look fabulous.

He finishes that and takes his real estate sales course. He passes his test and joins my firm. The construction company extends the layoff to 8 weeks, then 10. He's not going back.

March '07. Simon is born on Abigail's birthday. It was a wonderful, intense homebirth. Simon is amazing and we are so happy to have him with us. Our family is now complete in my opinion.

I was at a lecture at our local arts center recently. The subject was a poet, Lorrine Niedecker. I'd never heard of her before the lecture, but it was quite interesting. Her poetry was radically different from what I normally read; it was modern, sometimes minimalist, free-form poetry. I couldn't always understand what the point of the poem was or what the subject was, but still it struck me on a deeply emotional level. I found it fascinating how much emotion it evoked even though I couldn't understand it.

After the lecture, there was reception with the lecturer in the gallery. I found myself talking with the lecturer, and he asked if I was a writer. It's a logical question to ask someone who attends a lecture on a (nowadays) obscure poet. I wasn't quite sure how to answer; I said not really. I don't write poetry; I don't write books or articles. I have never been published and I know I never will be. Yet I couldn't simply answer his question with a no. I love the written word. I enjoy composing my thoughts and putting them down onto paper or the computer screen. I mull things over until the words overflow and must be written out. I like to take the time to find the right word, the perfect phrase.

No, I'm not a writer. Yes, I am a writer. Both would have been correct answers to that simple question, yet neither would have conveyed the full story. Verbal communication being a weak point for me, I settled for an answer that was less honest and less complete than either of these would have been.

The simple question he asked me lead me to come back to this blog that I abandoned nearly two years ago. I enjoy writing down my thoughts. I hope I will continue to do so rather than abandon this blog again.