This summer; trimming the hooves of our favorite beast, Tyrandelion. Clad in coveralls because sometimes you want to hug your favorite buck but you don't want to smell like him. Miss you, Ty. We hope you always get hugged while your hooves are being trimmed! 

This summer; trimming the hooves of our favorite beast, Tyrandelion. Clad in coveralls because sometimes you want to hug your favorite buck but you don't want to smell like him. Miss you, Ty. We hope you always get hugged while your hooves are being trimmed! 

Two years married. Six years together. Baby coming any day. Working hard to start our own farm. Unsure of where we'll live or what we'll be doing in a year's time. That's the pulse. Tonight we'll feast on a roast from a goat we raised ourselves. Mark will surely crack one of his few remaining tart cherry saisons, and Sam will opt for a cup of tart cherry juice. We will toast to this life we have cultivated in marriage; the mystery and the magnitude and the magic of it all more real than it's ever been. I suspect our baby will spend the evening dancing around and teasing us from in utero.

We could wax poetic on how totally wonderful marriage is, but we'd rather just let the year keep moving and be along for the ride. Maybe in fifty years we will have sage advice or wisdom to drop, but for now it's just coffee in bed every morning and laughing at how unpredictable and fun our life is together. Thanks be to God for a beautiful two years! 




JANUARY 16, 2016 . . .

That two people could meet amid a myriad of improbabilities, fall swiftly and deeply in love, traverse continents of foreign lands and of foreign emotion, and unite in such a way that our souls would be transfigured into one from two through marriage, is a monumental confirmation of what saying Yes can look like. We are magnificently blessed; what else to say? If you'd like to take a trip down memory lane with us, our wedding posts are linked below.

A Morning Wedding | Chronicled in Photos
Our Wedding: Pt. 1 | The Ethic of Seasonal
Our Wedding: Pt. 2 | Disposable Film


—M&S (no longer newlyweds!)



 "Wouldn't it be nice to live together, in the kind of world where we belong?"

The prospect of writing another post about Pink Cameron seemed unlike us. After all, we would be writing on the mess we are still sifting through, the mishaps and, yes, even a few miniature triumphs. But our lives are more than farming and renovating a camper—schedules be damned. We were brainstorming on what to write about this week when it hit us: if we had kept our original schedule, we would be getting married this weekend.

"Maybe if we think, and wish, and hope, and pray it might come true.
Baby, then there wouldn't be a single thing we couldn't do."

Instead, we have been married five months. If you're new to our blog, the abridged version is this: We were on a long drive, listening to The Beach Boys' song 'Wouldn't It Be Nice', a song that would change the course of our lives. By the end of the car ride, we had decided to bump the wedding up five months, giving ourselves just five weeks to craft a day about feasting: on food, on communion with loved ones, and on choosing to enter willingly into an indelible union. As if it were a dream, everything just happened as it should. 

Beloved family & friends traveled on short notice from several countries, and states ranging from California to Virginia, to surround us with love. Bouquets made of kale and rosemary, table settings of rose hips and scotch pine, a boutonnière & a nature wand (carried by our Godson Isaiah, pictured above) — these were a few of the provisions foraged from Ohio's wintry landscape the week of the wedding. The playlist that Mark had spent weeks crafting song by song, in order that it may all flow together, did not even come on until midway through our celebration.

But when the infectious rhythm of Jumpin' Jack Flash filled my parents retro basement, bringing everyone to the dance floor, it recalled one of my most special memories. Six years ago, my Uncle Jay surprised my sister and her husband at their wedding by playing that song on his bass guitar. Scleroderma would soon take his life, but in that moment everyone was alive . . . very and totally alive. Six years later and dancing to the same song, tears poured down my cheeks and I laughed at how absolutely present Jay was in the room. I suspect his four-string, adorned with pride on the basement wall, was vibrating.

" . . . You know it seems the more we talk about it,
It only makes it worse to live without it.
But let's talk about it.
Wouldn't it be nice?"

Our nascent married life has been nice, albeit challenging. Rather than pampering and readying ourselves to walk down the aisle this week, we are unloading & stacking hundreds of hay bales in the barns at Consider Bardwell Farm and Wayward Goose Farm. We are catching the field mice who keep finding their way into Pink Cameron (see why we decided to take a week off from camper posts?). We are missing home, but also find ourselves pursuing the rustic & enlivening lifestyle that we were dreaming about when we listened to that Beach Boys song back in December. All things considered, it seems that we have been rewarded heartily for deciding to go with our guts. More than just our guts, though, it was that we chose Kairos time over Chronos time. Kairos is the 'supreme moment' in ancient Greek, understood in the Catholic and Orthodox church as God's timeline. Chronos is chronological time. Take it from us: choose Kairos.

If our wedding were happening tomorrow, given what we know now, it would be the single best day of our lives. Instead, January 16th was. If no day is ever as good as that one, it would be very, very alright. Incalculable joy was moving through both of us that day, from morning until night. I cannot see how a joy so monumental could exist again, but hell if I'm not open to it!



eating cake
wedding toast
one of the boys
mimi and haze
running to gurney
dancing with gurney

Though the general ethic of our wedding celebration centered on sustainability—that is to say, non-disposability—there was one exception we were willing to make: disposable cameras. 

Film photography has played a special role in documenting our relationship & our lives, and we had hoped it could play into our wedding plans in some way or another. Due in part to our decision to change the date on very short notice, we ended up with what amounted to "crowdsourced" wedding photos. With a couple of very talented photographer friends leading the way, DSLRs in hand, our wedding guests captured the action themselves using cheap drug store cameras. 

Yesterday, when we went to pick up the film—with that bygone feeling of unknowing anticipation that comes with waiting to have your photos developed—we were overjoyed to discover rolls that had turned out even better than we had expected. In placing cameras in the hands of everyone rather than one, we are now able to (re)live so many beloved moments & faces that we may have missed the first time around.