Half-Baked Thoughts

thought once and forgotten

I’m learning one of my biggest writerly struggles is thinking I have to flesh out every thought into a full-blown story or essay. Then that essay must be complete, unbiased, and all-encompassing. It really ruins the fun. I’m learning to go back to pen on page when necessary, and to stop myself when I get too far. Sometimes I don’t have answers to the questions. In fact, it’s the questions themselves that hold the wonder. And sometimes a thought is just that, perfectly useful on its own two little legs, with no higher aspirations than to be thought once and then forgotten — and that is okay, too.

I left my ringer turned on this week, for once. And wouldn’t you know? This time I heard you when you called.

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I had forgotten that once, you could hear a story about someone on the radio and then not go look them up immediately on the internet to see what they look like. Just a voice, a texture, and only the colors that can be told in sounds.

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My friends trust me enough to let me take a candlestick upstairs. Through the window I can see faraway lights flickering, neighbors across the mountains and through the trees. Maybe they are going to bed too, with candlesticks and pleasant dreams of their own.

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I baked the last of the winter squash until good and soft, and stored them in jars in the freezer. A different sort of preservation, funny to be doing in the beginning of April. Last week I spent precious days with my niece and nephew, soaking up their childish joy like precious sunshine to store away in my heart for gloomy days. A different sort of preservation, but really no different — storing up in days of plenty for the days of lean and want.

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It helps to have more than one reason for doing something. You might simmer your soup bones as long as you can because you haven’t money to buy meat until next week, and that is a good reason. Maybe you take care of your body because you want to look and feel good, and those are good reasons too. But add to that a love for cooking, and a gratitude for the body God has given you, and a tireless desire to feed your loved ones well, and you have a commitment unlikely to falter. We steward the earth because we want someplace beautiful to live, but also because we were told. And obedience is a good reason — more powerful than any motivation you or I can come up with ourselves.

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I come inside. You’re still working, and so is the sun. I eat cheese while the frying pan heats up, like a mouse or something, or a wild woman with no manners, like I lived in a barn for longer than I actually did.

P O S T S C R I P T:

Perhaps you’ve noticed the name change. The name Lady Agrarian was an idea of a few years ago, when I hoped to create a blog and brand that would eventually generate some income for our family. That idea eventually changed courses, and I started sharing more in-depth writing again, which I find much more fulfilling than tracking SEO keywords. Though I like the old name, it has begun to sound a little narrow to my own ears. I hope what I write can be useful to more than just lady agrarians, but to a broader audience of agrarians, artists, families, and people — but still, and evermore, from the perspective of connection to the land.

Pasture People is drawn from Psalm 100:

“Know that the LORD, He is God! It is He who made us, and we are His; we are His people, and the sheep of His pasture.” - Psalm 100:3

I think this is a beautiful view to have of ourselves as Believers and followers of Christ. He is our shepherd, and we the people of His pasture — following Him, enjoying Him, working for Him, and at the very last, dependent entirely upon Him and His care. A sweet thing on which to meditate.