Chasing The Frozen River

My book club is getting ready to meet to discuss the book The Frozen River, by Ariel Lawhon. It is inspired by the diary of a real midwife in central Maine (Hallowell), named Martha Ballard.

Today being a sunny, crisp winter day in central Maine, I had to take the camera out to go see that river in person! Decided to compare my DSLR and my iphone 15pro. Can you tell them apart?

I wanted to picture where Martha walked, what it was like to cross the frozen river to deliver babies in the winter.

I wanted to hear the ice cracking that she wrote about.

Get an idea of what she saw as she looked across the river. (It’s still undeveloped in many areas across the river, which helps the imagination!)
What a very special thing, to see the sights and sounds of the late 18th century still existing here today in Maine.

   

I am thankful to have a husband who loves a simple adventure like today.  Grab a coffee at Dunkin’ and hit the road with cameras and boots, chat, laugh, conversation shallow and deep, and take in the sights of Maine.

Snow squalls were moving in as we drove to Hallowell, but just as I reached my first river stop, the sun burst out behind an old mill!

 

Some photos are from Richmond, a nearby stop along the river. The rest are taken in Hallowell. 

Thinking Out Loud

During the Years of Littles, I was a stay at home mom, homeschooler, who taught some piano lessons as a little side gig. One outlet for me was blogging. I blogged about my discoveries and musings. Recipes. Photos. Bible verses.

I developed food allergies, and celiac. I taught people how to transition to allergy free eating. How to use essential oils. I started my studies to become a Pilates instructor.

Then came my Working Years. Which were also becoming the Chronically Ill Years. The kids older and in school, I taught music again in a school as well.

The last of the Four Kids at Home Years. (2015)

Then I studied to be a health coach, when doctors told me I needed to become the type of support person I needed on my health journey, because there weren’t any. Our oldest got married. One started college. Then another one.

I began the Years of Finding Yourself Again, as the Empty Nest Years crept closer. I dove into understanding modern church history, and family history. As I had changed, I found myself revisiting old views and beliefs. About myself and all kinds of things.  I teased out and tested old perceptions. I fell even more in love with God’s Word. I finished writing two full length musicals I had started awhile back in the Littles Years. I wrote a book of poems, and  got another good therapist.

Reaching Middle Age, and realizing how little I know about the world and everything else. Navigating a Neurodiverse Marriage, getting to know how we’re all wired.

Well, along the way, I stopped Thinking Out Loud.

I think the more I was willing to dig deep into what I thought about things, the less I was willing to go on record with my musings. I had changed my mind a few times! I wanted not just knowledge (I’m a learning addict), I also wanted Wisdom and Discernment.

What is different now? Hmmm let’s see.

I am revisiting things that brought me great joy in past seasons, as I Create this next season. And one of those was Writing.

I turned 50.

I successfully staged for public audiences the two musicals that I wrote, in the past 2 years.

My complex illnesses cause me to sit still more than I like. And Thinking Out Loud can be good company. I hate sitting still, but I do usually find myself thankful for what I end up doing while knocked off my feet! (Like completing those musicals!)

I think it just feels like… it’s time to give myself the time. Time to think in complete sentences, to enjoy the process of wrestling with words to convey ideas. A reason to sit still and give vent to all the stuff going on in my head.

And to mark this season, with the photos, and the stories, and reminders, and gratitude.

Whatever it ends up being. I am thankful to be here, in this season, living this life!

So I’m just Thinking Out Loud.