Whether it is spelled Kiester or Keister, it is a little odd to know that everyone knows where I live. Locals may know it by the previous owner's name or the elderly recall it by the family with 11-15 sons. (The number varies. It was alot of boys.) The historic-minded know that it is one of three generations of Kiester homes on my little road. It helps when meeting someone for the first time and needing to give directions, but at the same time I miss the anonymity of city living. That sounds so strange, because having a house with history is what drew me in to begin with.
Another pregnancy test, another negative. Two years of working on it, 18 months of "trying", one heartbreaking loss and seven negative tests. I set an unofficial goal for myself: I would use my 35th year to try for a third baby. If I didn't get pregnant after the medications, the careful calculations, the frantic mental math...I would be okay. I have two beautiful, amazing, unique souls that were already entrusted to me by the Universe.
Here are the first harvested yummies from my garden. I haven't fully explained the saga of the raised beds yet, but I had these in my camera and seeing them took me back to the joy of eating them. I did it! I grew stuff! :)