Spring

The red-winged blackbirds have returned. Mary Jane and I heard the first song of the season on one of our warm days here last week. It was just a few days earlier than Aldo Leopold's noted arrival of this winged harbinger in my wildlife phenology calender. Grass is greening, buds swelling, bulbs pushing up through cold dirt. In a few weeks we'll install a raised bed in the yard for veggie gardening. Our church will soon build a chicken coop and MJ and I will be Chicken Care Coordinators for a flock of 10 laying hens.

Soccer season is underway with Anna's team -- the Snarps -- having their first practice last week. MJ's yet-unnamed team will start soon, with Scott coaching.

Charlotte had her second birthday! They celebrated in style, and we'll do another celebration when we visit Maryland in just a week. Can't believe she's 2 already ...


Anna had 10+ inches cut from her hair and donated it to Wigs 4 Kids in honor of our dear, brave friend Ally Barnett. I am a proud mama. Also a sad mama as I bagged up 10 inches of THICK and beautiful sandy blond locks and sent them away. Mary Jane also got a short cut for spring to complement that cherubic face of hers.


Scott and I both continue to train for our respective races. He's doing a 20-mile hilly run at the end of May, and I'm doing a sprint triathlon in June. Scott will also soon build nice big shelving units for the girls' rooms. We're researching a new purchase, something close to Bill's heart -- cars. Looking at a hybrid Toyota, among others. As Bill would say, make sure it has "good safety record and performance!"

I have also been busy keeping up with several freelance contracts (check out the Driftless Food System project).

As a family, we're participating in/raising money for the American Brain Tumor Association at a Joggin for the Noggin race on April 17.

And plans are in place for summer camping and travel -- starting with Maryland on March 27 .

All this is to say, Life Goes On.

We work, play and make plans. I'd say I am doing well, but with a caveat. There's just an emptiness I carry in my heart. I don't want to go as far as to say there's a cloud hanging over me, but let's just say light fog follows me around. Or maybe I'm just in a fog at times. My Dad was such a big presence in my life. Almost everywhere I look, everything I think about, brings back a memory. He influenced me so much more than I realized. And now all I have are those precious memories and his legacy, which is large, yet it's not him ... As Heather said, "I just feel like I want to hug him."

Grief never goes away -- I still grieve for my mom, who died 9 years ago. But it does lessen over the years and becomes more of a dull ache versus a sharp pain. And you measure your happiness against it, appreciating life's goodness that much more.

I've so appreciated all the cards, phone calls, e-mails and friendship. They keep me grounded in goodness versus wallowing in a pool of sad. When I start to wallow, I think, "No. You've got it good. You had it good. You had two awesome parents." And I truly believe that. For almost 30 years I had a mother like no other. Sue Beecheler. For 38 years I had a father that could beat out the best. Bill. I do -- absolutely -- allow myself to mourn, to cry, etc. But wallowing, no. There are too many gardens to plant, trips to take, kids to hug, friends to laugh with, too much cycling and swimming and running, too many books to read and songs to sing, too much love to be had.

Sing, red-winged blackbird, sing!