Let’s start where all stories should start.

At the beginning.

Last week, Memorial Day weekend, Rustic Russ had the pleasure of placing manure compost on our garden space.

Fast forward to this past Saturday.

Our 2nd Frolic - planting the garden.

You can imagine my horror on Friday night, when I arrived home from a 12-hour work day to find the garden had not been tilled.

Friday’s tasks had bumped the tilling to the bottom of the list.

What would we do at the Frolic?

First, I had to remember that I was on “Sutherby” time.

Russ-Stick Acres. Where time stands still.

It’s my sage walk.

To learn how to relax and live in the moment.

I fell in love and married Rustic Russ because of his ability to believe.

He trusts, in himself, but first and foremost in God, and always keeps on track.

Over the years I’ve tried to let go and let God. It’s hard. It’s not what I’m used to.

But I see that it never fails.

Ever.

Our Frolic was fine.

Everyone was flexible. Amy, Francie and Joy. And their canine companions.

We took advantage of the early morning hours and ran dog teams.

We hand tilled the soil for Morning Glories and Sunflower plants.

We grilled hot dogs and enjoyed a lunch in the wind-protected Wee House, watching the rain storm roll in and out, and listening to Jason Barron on Sled Dog Podcast.

Rustic Russ worked from mid-morning (after running a team) until late afternoon re-fitting and formatting our new, never been used tiller on the Hudson Tractor.

Once the mechanics were completed, the garden space slowly morphed into a beautiful island of rich black planting soil.

The smell of fresh turned earth soothed the senses, and snapped me back to reality.

Although I’m in charge of a lot, I don’t have control of much.

And there is always a reason for my timeframe not to line up with everyone elses. I just may not be aware of it.

Like many times before, I realized the “master plan” the next day.

In this case, frost.

Lucky for us, the tomato plants remained warm all night in the Wee House, and not within the frost covered Frolic planted garden.

“Then Jesus said to his disciples: ‘Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat; or about your body, what you will wear. Life is more than food, and the body more than clothes. Consider the ravens: They do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or barn; yet God feeds them. And how much more valuable you are than birds! Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? Since you cannot do this very little thing, why do you worry about the rest?’” (Luke 12:22-26, NIV).

Until tomorrow ~ continuing my sage walk-worry free ~ God willing,

Woodswoman

This weekend, during our first “Frolic”, it finally sunk in.

We will be having three amazing Iditarod mushers travel by plane to stay at our place.

Dee Dee Jonrowe. Ryan Redington. And Jason Barron.

We’ve been working hard to get ready for the big event.

And we want to thank our friends who also worked very hard on Saturday during our first Frolic.

Amy/Jordan/Ryan/LuLu/Francie/John and Justin. And Joy ~ for trying to reach us.

Trails were raked, brush was cleared, trees fell, chain saws were buzzing.

As usual, we persevered through the cold, rain and wind ~ just like Mushers do.

Blisters ensued.

Brats were cooked over a camp fire.

Toes were cold.

Hands were colder.

Comfort was put on the back shelf.

In other words, it was Heaven on Earth.

The outcome will be amazing.

Mushers will emerge from surrounding cities, and states, not to mention Beaver Island… and fill the 40 acres in August.

To camp.

To cook.

To chat.

Talk dogs. Lots and lots of “talking dogs”. That’s what we Mushers do.

All coming to see Iditarod mushers in person.

Up close and personal.

What makes us Mushers do what we do?

Well…it’s all about the dogs. It starts with the dogs.

And ends with the dogs.

It’s just that simple.

Until Tomorrow ~ and the next Frolic, join us won’t you? ~ God willing,

Woodswoman