On Seasons…

Someone recently asked what my favorite season was.

I promptly replied “Garlic!” but after seeing the confused look on their face, I realized they were referring to SEASONS, not seasonings.

(No. I never stop thinking about food.)

Anyway.

I don’t have a favorite season, I guess.

But what I do love is the change.

I eagerly anticipate the first days of spring, but welcome the lengthening light as spring fades into summer.

I relish in sun-kissed skin from long days outside, but crave the cool-down in early autumn.

I welcome the crispness of fall like an old friend, but look forward to sinking into long, dark December nights.

And I’m rejuvenated by the stillness of winter, but chomping at the bit to dig my hands into warm soil come March.

In the realm of soil, plants, and seeds, I embrace transitions.

But sometimes I struggle accepting shifts in my greater journey.

You see… we’re undergoing a shift in our life right now.

It’s been happening for a while, actually.

It’s a shift from our decade-long rhythm of (mostly quiet) homestead life & content creation to a season of being extremely involved in community.

As such…. our life looks very different right now.

My homesteading looks different.

My priorities are different.

My focus is different.

Even the things that light me up are different.

I felt it coming last year, and I fought it tooth and nail. (And I was subsequently miserable.)

So this season, I’m learning surrender.

Not in a beat down, giving up sort of way.

But in an excited, curious, I-can’t-wait-to-see-what’s-next sort of way.

I’m learning that, just like it’d be silly for me to fight the seasonal shifts in my garden, I can’t fight the seasons of life, either.

To be honest, I don’t know where this new season will take us.

Christian is committed to seeing the charter school succeed. When you’re the CEO, the buck stops with you. Right now that looks like him driving a bus route in the absence of available drivers, plus working long hours in the office.

Things have shifted at the soda fountain in the most incredible way. We are no longer actively pushing to sell it. I’m feeling deeply inspired there (which is wonderful and unexpected. I’ll share more about it soon….) but it also means I’m at the restaurant more, and home less.

This season of deep community work feels hard, yet holy somehow.

The kids are involved in multiple sports, plus school activities, 4-H, FFA, and more. They are absolutely blossoming, even though our family calendar is hectic.

The era of working on the computer while they play at my feet is coming to a rapid close. I grieved it for a time, while also knowing that attempting to keep them there would stunt their growth, no different than keeping a tomato seedling in a pot that’s too small.

Sometimes I feel like we’re ships passing in the night. But we’re still feeling lit up with purpose and meaning–it’s just different than before.

I don’t know where this new season will take us or what it will become.

I used to demand that knowing. But somehow, the need for that is slowly and quietly slipping away.

More than any other time in my life, I’m content with just being.

And no, I’m settling. Not at all.

We’re still growing and creating and building and stretching. But it feels different right now. More mysterious and less individualistic. And I’m learning to focus on what’s in front of me and flow, instead of fight.

It’s a lesson I first learned on the homestead as I acquainted myself with our growing patterns, the needs of the soil, and the intricacies of native plants. Flow, adjust to fit the situation, and dig in.

Now that lesson carries me forward into this wild and mysterious unknown.

That’s the beauty of seasons, I suppose. They shape us and mold us. And even when the page turns, those lessons remain. ??

Sinking into whatever is next,

-Jill

P.S. Don’t worry. This isn’t a veiled announcement that we’re going to stop homesteading. Those things are a part of us and will always be, even as the seasons of our life shift. I’ll still be cooking, growing, preserving, and sharing about it here, of course. There’s just a lot of other wonderful and challenging parts of our life now, too.