Spring is here. OK, technically it was here March 20, but in the Midwest, who really knows what that means? Three weeks ago it was just shy of 80 degrees; two weeks ago it was snowing. But now, the flowers are up, the asparagus and rhubarb are peaking through, and our mudroom is filled with seedlings. We’ve been shed hunting, turkey hunting, and soon enough, morel hunting (mom, we didn’t go without you . . . the picture is from last year). I’m pretty sure I broke my back digging the garden beds, and apparently you can get sunburned in 60-degree weather. To me, it’s official.
I’m also officially (finally) starting the blog. I feel like I can call it “the blog” as if it’s existed for some time, because, well, it has. At least in my mind and those very few near and dear to my heart who have encouraged me to share my photos, recipes, etc. It’s weird—first blog post. Spring seems as good a time as any, new beginnings and all, but I’m not really sure how to begin. And it’s taken me a really long time to just do it.
This is not surprising. There are many things I get ridiculously excited about only to find I didn’t really think it through or they didn’t turn out like I had planned.
Case in point:
We were on our way home from the cabin. It’s a three-hour car ride. Dangerous for someone like me with all her thoughts. I was browsing the internet on my phone and came across this incredible knit blanket . . . that was stupid expensive. My thought process goes something like this:
Awesome! How much? What?! WHY? I could knit this. I could probably knit all sorts of stuff. And the yarn and needles would be like an investment because I would never need to buy hats or mittens or scarves or blankets *ever* again! It would basically pay for itself. I could even sell my knitting and MAKE money ＼（＾○＾）／ !!!)
Margie: HEY!! Can we stop at Hobby Lobby on the way home?
Matt: Sure. Why?
Margie: Because I found the most amazing knit blanket.
Matt: At Hobby Lobby?
Margie: Wellll, it’s not technically there. See, I found it online, but it’s stupid expensive, so I figured I’d make it myself . . . because I’m practical (<—false, you are not practical)
Matt: Have you ever knitted before?
Margie: No, but I’ve always wanted to learn.
Matt: Since when?
Margie: Since like, a really, really long time.
Matt: You’ve never mentioned it.
Margie: [Decides to counter valid point with non-valid point] I used be good at crocheting. I even made half a blanket once [shockingly, previous failure doesn’t slightly sway kitting confidence]
Matt: So why not just crochet a *whole* blanket?
Margie: [Decides to ignore logic] Because knitting.
One unfinished scarf and a pompom-less hat later, there’s no blanket in sight. The fact that I didn’t even attempt a blanket has unsettling implications on my character. At least I had the good sense not to open up an Etsy shop just in case my knitting skills really took off.
So, you see, there was good reason for me to hold off on the blog, because at (almost) thirty years old, I still have little to no conviction (according to Merriam-Webster: the feeling of being sure that what you believe or say is true). I *think* I have conviction. I even convince myself of it. In fact, the only reason I know I lack it is because of how many times I’ve changed my mind. The thought of documenting these personal contradictions seems rather self-deprecating. But it wouldn’t be the first time I knowingly did something foolish.
I do seem to be consistent on a few topics, so those are likely what I will stick to—cooking, gardening, nature, health and wellness—but then again, if you dig deep enough, there are discrepancies here too:
Teenager: Eat all the breads/pastas/chips/cookies!
20: Be healthy. Pasta/bread cheap source of low-fat food!
22: Whole grains healthier.
24: Wait, no grains . . . never ever EVER again!
25: Maybe just avoid gluten?
26: Ancient grains seem fine.
27: Rice not so bad.
28: Not even sensitive to gluten . . . ?
29: Probably just avoid bleached white flour.
Everything in moderation, right? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯