As I have previously mentioned, something happens to me in the fall and winter months.
I could have not lifted a finger to do anything remotely creative all year long, and as soon as I start feeling the chill in the air, or the sun starts setting a little earlier,
suddenly I am frantically trying new recipes, painting things, sculpting, and crafting.
It is like it’s my own personal version of becoming a werewolf;
Except, instead of fur and fangs under a full moon, I sprout crafting supplies underneath a pumpkin.
I explain this so you will understand more fully when I tell you that last night I lived out exactly such dreams, by oven-drying orange slices to string into a garland just like an actual bonafide 1800’s woman.
Something happens to me when I take on crafts such as this one.
Suddenly, gone is the woman with day three hair in the same old hoodie, sipping her lukewarm coffee, and, in her place stands a woman bent over a wash bin, wearing hair pins and lace-up boots, trying to get the washing done while the paraffin sets on homemade dip candles.
This Kerri clutches her shawl around her neck as she heads to the barn to check on how the foal is managing.
This Kerri knows not of Netflix or the most recent questionable Supreme Court decision.
This Kerri harvests.
She mends.
She plans ahead for the turning of the seasons.
When I bought them, my mom mentioned seeing that I already had oranges at home,
so I told her these were for slicing and drying.
She only blinked at me.
She doesn’t understand this urge to settle in and go back in time that I get every year.
I guess sometimes we must forage on alone through the harsh winter.
She is made for the big city, apparently.
She does not understand the life of those of us who work with our hands on the prairie; Who labor to get all the work done before the snows come.
She doesn’t know we don’t question why “snows” is plural.
I simply focus on my task.
I will dip the twine in melted wax before stringing to make it form a kind of needle,
the same way the reel I watched showed me,
and I will no doubt imagine I am in a homemade floor-length skirt I made from fabric I bought at the general store in town, after deciding if we could afford both it, and oil, and the brass buckle that Pa needed while I do it.
I have always wanted to do this.
The oranges have always called to me.
It is Prairie Time of Year, after all.
A time that calls for wax, and linen, and sourdough starter.
This is the exact kind of thing we do in it.
If she didn’t like it, maybe she shouldn’t have made half my childhood Holly Hobby.
I have tried explaining this feeling that comes over me to the slight smiles and shaking heads of my family for years, but last night, as the oranges dried in the oven,
I posted about this very thing on my Threads account, and was astounded to find that, out there in the world, there are many such kindred people who just get it.
My thread was flooded with like-minded women commenting.
They responded in Old English, and asked if I’d remembered to pick up a penny candy at the general store while I was there buying my fabric.
I scrolled on to see that the people at the Calm app had commented, saying,
“Sister, we will endure the harsh winters together and bring joy to the children by freezing maple syrup in the snow to make candy.”
Pretty soon Threads, itself, responded that they were just “in awe of the dedication.”
Person after person chimed in to say that they were taking this as their sign to try doing it themselves.
People posted photos, and asked for the details because they had also always wanted to do it. Good news for me: There are other people who feel drawn to stringing things by candlelight in their log cabin, as the wind howls outside, threatening of the big storm that is coming.
The smell of the oranges baking was sweet, and filled the house,
but the smiles the comments on my post about it filled me up the most.
See?
How my heart doth swell!
There are people out there who get me!
Mom Outnumbered
Hi! My name is Kerri Green; Wife to Justin, and mother to four highly entertaining daughters -Alena, Chloe, Tessa, and Paige. I am an artist, a writer, a daycare provider, a lover of people, a believer that there is humor and beauty in all things, and the author of Mom Outnumbered; a blog about real family life, and my observations of it. My goal is to make people laugh, to be there for them when they cry, and most importantly, to let them know that they are not at all alone in this up and down world. I live with my family in Sebastopol California, and I am opening the window into our life. So welcome! Come in. Sit down. Just please don’t mind the mysterious wet spots.
