I get it. I do.

Projects abound in this life.  I think I am generally grateful that this is true, although I have moments where I wish for the day when they are all done.  Imagine waking up with nothing left that needs fixing or improving!?  I think if that day actually happened it would be more discomforting than satisfying, but there are moments when I daydream.  Arriving back at the farm for the summer has effectively aimed a spotlight on all those outstanding projects in my life-- the ones I've left behind in Portsmouth as well as those I am now facing here on the ol' homestead.  What has also caught my attention is the negotiation that we all go through when deciding which projects to do ourselves and which ones are better 'left to the professionals'.  It often comes down to a time vs. money equation in my mind, with skill being a secondary player in the argument.  I finally had a handrail installed on our front steps in Portsmouth this week, and after battling about ways I could do it myself, eventually decided that this was a job worth paying for.  The contractor who came in had the rail installed and ready to use in a matter of a few hours.  For me it would have taken days, and likely left me on ice for days past that.  It was worth the money.  Still, I am beginning to realize more consciously that there is another piece at play in this project game.

B.F. and I (two members of Team Beer- can't find the team pic!

I spent a day and night this week out on Star Island, a retreat/conference center that I have made an annual pilgrimage to for most of the past 22 years.  It is a place of raw beauty and grace.  I laugh harder when I'm there, sleep better, smile wider... it is bliss.  It is also a great example of never ending projects.  I was talking with a friend on this past visit about one such project a few years back.  The conference I have attended for the past 9 years is one of the first of the season.  Often, the island staff are still ironing out details when we arrive, and tying up loose ends.  We arrived 8? years ago to a new building on the island where our group of retreaters would be spending most of our time, and though the building was lovely, getting into it was a bit treacherous.  While the building was done, the entrance was a pile of dirt and rocks and ruts that begged for attention.  After our first night of revelry, when several of our conferees nearly hit the dirt navigating this terrain, I spoke with a few friends about taking on this project.  We were 'team beer' that year-- in charge of setting up cocktail hour, schlepping cases to and from the refrigerator (mostly from), and generally acting strong and burly.  We knew we were the crew for the job!  It took some coaxing to get the ok to 'smooth out' the entrance to our building, but the island eventually gave us a few shovels, insisting that it would be redone eventually, they agreed to some temporary fixes; we were in business.  We moved dirt, placed stones to create a ramped apron, and transformed treachery into a lovely rustic front path.  It wasn't perfect, and had a 'professional' done the job, I'm sure they would have done some things differently, but it was functional, and I thought it looked great.  Apparently the island agreed, because it's still there.  More importantly, as we worked on that project, we were engaged.  It was satisfying, even fun, and when it was done, it felt so great to stand back and look at it.  A feeling you would never have if someone else did the work.  A feeling unique to finishing it yourself, to pushing through the logistics, and accomplishing the task.

I got in at the farm somewhere around 10:30 last night.  Woke the boys and helped them inside, and recruited my dad to help me with the bags.  As we headed toward the car he pulled me around the corner of our event barn.  He was smiling a big smile as he found the flashlight application his phone offers.  He held the glowing light up to his newly finished rock retaining wall.  The glow illuminated hours of his work, and revealed carefully pieced together boulders and stones.  Gently curving as your eyes follow it from end to end.  It was lovely.  But more so, it was his, and will always be.  That is more than money and time.  That is life.

Rock Wall built by Bob Benner and Laura Stone (Ramp behind, built by Ben Benner)

In the Kitchen with Mom

Kelan in 2004?

This past weekend was the Strawberry festival down at the farm.  It was a crazy few days, starting off with a drive down on Thursday night in the middle of a wild thunderstorm.  What is usually a 5 hour trip took us over 7 hours and was yucky driving.  Still, even the drive had a nice side, as it was just Kelan and I-- my little one having plans to go spend a week with grammy up in northern Maine.  Kelan and I so rarely get to spend time together alone, and we both agreed it was really nice to have that chance.  He is a puzzle piece for me when I travel-- always such a smooth fit.  I wonder if that is related to the fact that we were a two man team for so much of his early life.  Just he and I, plowing through daily demands, I suspect it is at least a part of why we find such ease when we travel together.  Anyway, I am grateful for that, as we were able to marvel at webs of lightning and shrug our shoulders at wrong turns and keep on plugging away until we got to NY.

Friday was an adventure in scheduling-- as the health inspector was scheduled for our pre-camp inspection and CPR was booked at almost the same time.  Then I had a last minute surprise when going through checklists preparing for the inspection and had to pull in our Veterinarian to update Rabies vaccines for 13 sheep and a pony so we would remain in compliance!  UGH!  (Did I mention there were also a few hundred kids visiting the farm, and the phone was ringing non-stop.  AH, the farm in spring!  Needless to say, we made it through with flying colors.  On to festival prep!

The weekend weather was crummy, and so the crowds were light in comparison to the past few years, but 250 people came to celebrate the strawberry on Saturday, and 400 more came through on Sunday.  Our fantastic staff are such pros at their respective jobs that they really run on auto pilot, and Mom and I got to hang out in the kitchen making shortcake and lemonade, answering phones, and chatting.  It's funny, having grown up on the farm with all it's mania, but I often forget to appreciate the things that I love so much about it.  Getting to spend 4 hours with my mom in the kitchen- two days in a row!  Getting our part of this big production done without even breaking a true sweat... just a constant buzz.  The natural flow of the day, and the bright moments when you stop to watch dad serve his home made ice cream to excited kids, or when you see a familiar face in the crowd- quick hellos and catch up before you have to run for another bag of ice, or a towel, or something.  The frantic first hour when loose ends need to be tied up, the mid day rush, the end of the day hangers on, when we all start to let go.  It is an experience that both exhausts and invigorates, and it is unique.  Family friends meander in and chat with us while we cook- sometimes they even take over at the helm of the Kitchen Aid mixer or to battle a sink full of dishes.  There is always another story to tell, or a funny question being fielded on the phone.  It is tradition in my family as much as a Thanksgiving gathering or Christmas eve dinner, even though it wears the mask of 'work'.  And now, in its wake, I smile.  Happy to be back in my other home, and looking forward to another trip soon.