Power, Presence

Remembering my “Blackberry Project”

September 20, 2026

A full trash can of berry vines and other weeds? Means it was a happy day of work outside.

I started a YouTube channel a few years ago. I called it “Ordinary Holy” and began sharing videos I made about my “Blackberry Project,” which was my plan to eradicate the invasive Himalayan blackberry bushes that had taken over a good part of our property.

Hard to believe that none of those “Blackberry Project” videos went viral!

Not so surprising, actually. I just spent a few minutes looking at some of those old videos, most about two minutes long. Even I had a hard time watching all the way to the end. They honestly were a little boring. I did my best with iMovie on my iPhone, but the editing and lighting were amateur and my narration wasn’t always clear or interesting. I tended to say the same things over and over: “Wow! Look at the size of that vine!”

I had thought it was such a good idea, though! I wanted to document my process of working with the berries, spending twenty minutes at a time, maybe a few times a week, out in the yard with my clippers and three pairs of gloves. I’d take videos of my vine piles to show that an overwhelming project could be manageable, that all it would take was commitment, consistency, and a belief that I could make a difference, even if I spent only a few minutes at a time. I found inspiration from a verse in the Old Testament, close to the end in the book of Zechariah: “Do not despise these small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin.” (Zechariah 4:10, New Living Translation)

I would begin the work. I would document the work. I would share the results. I would encourage my readers (viewers?) to start their own projects that also seemed insurmountable! In the end, I would get rid of those pokey, painful, ugly, annoying blackberry bushes and usher in a regular Eden on my property. The blackberries would be gone and all would be well.

It hasn’t worked that way.

It’s been years since I posted a Blackberry Project video on that Ordinary Holy YouTube channel. I was surprised that I could still find them, that the powers behind YouTube hadn’t jettisoned them.

Sure, I’ve made progress over the years eliminating the blackberry vines. There’s an entire section of the creek that has been freed. I’m proud of that. What I didn’t realize, though, was that the land wouldn’t remain fallow when the vines disappeared. Of course, other things would grow. I guess I assumed that native plants would find their way to the open land, that since I’d done my work, nature would repay me with fields of sweet, natural beauty. I never imagined that an entirely new set of plant problems would develop: annoying sticker weeds and strange grasses.

So that is where we are now. There are fewer blackberries, but some blackberries are still thriving—ferocious, they are—and now there is hedge parsley and other thorny, stickery annoyances.

This is what I need to remember: Continue Reading…

Presence

Home Base and Motherly Whiplash

September 12, 2026

I love my kids.

(Hopefully kind of obvious,  but saying it anyway.)

I love how they’ve grown and how they are living their lives. My youngest arrived in Japan earlier this week to study for a semester there. Luckily it is a situation where all the students at the school have their own single rooms and private bathrooms. The toilets are tiny, but they have bidets! Apparently the dorm room beds are not exactly soft and squishy—more futon-like—but so far sleep has come and everything is going fine. Good news indeed.

View from the dorm room balcony in Japan. And hey! The dorm room has a balcony!

My oldest is finishing up a few more weeks as a tour guide for a company that runs duck boat tours in Ketchikan, Alaska. She stands at the front of the duck boat and talks about the  town as the boat motors along city streets, and then shares facts about sea life and tries to spot whales and seals when the boat finally enters the water.

This child graduated from college a few years ago with a degree in environmental studies, but realized after her first few internships that if you wanted to make money in her field, you might have to go back to school to earn not only a master’s degree but possibly a PhD. Folks she worked with almost all had master’s degrees and were mostly serving as glorified volunteers. In one of her internships, the job included housing, meals, and air travel to and from their workplace (which happened to be Costa Rica, working with sea turtles, so that part was awesome), but not much else.

So she pivoted and has spent the last few years working seasonal jobs that provided discounted housing in touristy areas, a solid hourly wage, and sometimes even tips. She traveled through Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, and Thailand last year and returned stateside to work on the duck boat this summer. She will head to Breckenridge, Colorado, for a job this winter. She already bought a discounted ski pass.

They are out in the world, living their lives, and I am in my house missing them. It is a kind of whiplash to have them here for a time—maybe days, sometimes weeks or months—and then have them gone again. It happens so quickly. Earlier this week, my youngest set an alarm for 2:00 am and woke me up (because I had set my alarm for 2:03 am). We departed for the Reno airport by 2:30 am and arrived a little before 4:00 am. We checked two suitcases, made our way over to the security area that was reserved only for ticketed passengers, and hugged goodbye. I was home by a little before 6:00 am and happily went back to sleep for a few hours.

The house is quiet again—just Biscuit and me.

It’s a season for the comings and goings of my beloveds.

I am lucky to provide a space where they can land between their adventures. I am glad that my parents also provided this for me. I set out into the world after college, traveling some and living in different places, but when things fell apart, when one boyfriend turned out to be not so good, I had a place to come home to. I have friends who did not have this luxury. When they reached a certain age, they had to find work and a way to support themselves outside of the family home. Legally, children as young as 18 can sometimes be expected to make their way into the world on their own. With how expensive things are now, this seems nearly impossible. Still, it’s often the law. Continue Reading…