Do you know the life cycle of a flea? Until two months ago I didn't, either. But, I am most assuredly familiar with it now. In fact, I now know more about fleas than I ever imagined I'd need to know. The one thing I don't know is how to quickly get them out of our new home. But, not for lack of trying. Let me explain.
We closed on our farm the first week of June. Being the enthusiastic new home owners that we were, we immediately set about working on the house. Every blessed square inch in the upstairs was afflicted with nail and tack holes. That meant an enormous amount of putty and sanding. While HoneyMan tackled that I worked on washing down cabinets. We were making good progress.
On the third day as homeowners, we were once more working on our new nest when Señorita Sassypants became worked up in a fit that was dramatic even by her standards. She was hysterically screaming, "Get them off! Get them off! There are bugs on me!"
Being the compassionate and sympathetic mama that I am, I glanced at her to see none, and proceeded with, "There are no bugs on you. Pull yourself together and get back to work."
She did not pull herself together. I was losing my patience as I couldn't figure out why she was so worked up until I lifted her pants legs and found her legs covered in fleas. 
We soon learned that we had an epic flea infestation. I'm talking pestilence of Biblical proportions just shy of a Charlton Heston meet and greet. 
We also learned that often times when one has an infestation they will be unaware of it until the fleas' host has been taken away. The former homeowners had multiple indoor/outdoor pets. It's possible they were unaware of the problem as fleas prefer animals to humans. But, take away their all you can eat furry buffets and they'll attack practically anything. And, attack they did.
We had an exterminator out the next day. And, two weeks later. And, again. The fleas were so  bad that we couldn't allow the children inside of the house. I was frustrated. I was angry. We were finally homeowners to a home we couldn't live in. It was a hostile environment that we more or less visited on a daily basis. So, I took action.
 

I was going straight to the source. After dressing in the appropriate gear I took out my anger and frustration against the flea empire by ripping out the carpet in room after room after room all by myself. 
Turns out ripping out carpets isn't that difficult. It's fairly straight forward, if not simple. However, it is hard on one's back and knees. And, it is dirty, dirty work. The silence and solitude of the house all to myself except for the occasional rant directed at the fleas was therapeutic. I was left with a great sense of pride in having done the job on my own. I am determined and stubborn if I am anything at all. 

Two days later we returned ready to work on our house. I assumed there might be a renegade flea or two still holed up in what they had mistakenly thought was their home. But, I was wrong. Oh, how I was wrong. The floors were down to the concrete slab and still the fleas. There seemed to be more than ever, and this time they were out for blood. Ours.
The house was bombed again. We also placed night lights in every room with shallow pans filled with soapy water directly beneath the lights. These were useful in giving us an idea of how many might be in each room. At night the fleas would jump at the lights and fall into the soapy water trapped.
It was apparent the fleas were not going down without a fight. They were fighting dirty. Fighting so dirty that I contracted bacterial pneumonia from all the nasties in the carpet while ripping it out. Did I mention just how dirty those carpets were? *Note* Ensure your mask is one created for the enormity of one's job. Clearly my mask was not up to the enormity of filth in this home.
It has been a month since I've ripped the carpets out. The house has been bombed a few more times. We've sprayed and vacuumed underneath the baseboards. The exterminator is set to visit next week for our monthly. We feel as if we're finally making a dent in their numbers. And, they seem to be knocked down to one room. Yay! Of course, that would be our master bedroom. Boo! But, it's huge progress, and I'll take it. 
Y'all pray. Pray real hard.

I've often said that I don't sit still well, or for long periods of time for that matter, either. I like to have something to do. I like for my hands to be employed in some fashion. 
Those aren't bad traits to have. Being active and useful are great qualities. I just made myself too active, too busy. But, I wasn't always that busy. 
True, I am a high energy person, but I remember a time when sitting in the sweet gum tree at my grandmother's, or the plum tree behind our house with a book was a priority. I loved taking walks, drives, or just moments to sit and gaze off in quiet thought. I was still an active person, but I was also actively making time for quiet time. 
As a homeschooling mama of three, quiet time is something of a rarity. We're talking more rare than the ever elusive green backed, purple polka dotted, ring horned whats-a-what. Yeah, that rare. It doesn't have to be, though. 
As I wrote in my first post back in April, we strive to live a slower life. Lately, though, it seems the harder we strive, the harder it is to achieve. Our life is in a place of fluctuation at the moment with renovations about to begin on the farmhouse, downsizing in our rental home during the renovations, and dealing with various other issues. It is a time of change. And, while change can be hard in the right here and nows, it can be managed. It can even be embraced. It's inevitable and I'm learning how to roll along with it. Maybe not always gracefully, but I'm learning. Every day's a new day, right?
One of the ways that has helped me to cope over this summer has been my morning quiet time for my devotional and prayer journal. Before getting online, (but definitely after pouring that first cup of coffee - because coffee) I sit down to my desk for my quiet communal. 
Prayer or meditation, whichever you call it, is the steady grounding I long for and need each day.  It can be hard to tune out the static and noise of the outside world. To go to that place of peace and recharging. But, once there it all begins to slow. The pull of the gravity of the busy loses its hold and appeal. The Creator uses this time to remind me that this fast life is not for me. There's something better. Much better.
I am reminded there are sunrises and sets to be admired. 
Songs of the rhythm of creation surrounding me if I will only retune my ears to hear.
There is a wide spectrum of emotions to behold on the faces of my children that need to be forever etched in my memory. But, I have to be present if I am going to be able to do that. 
Be present. Live intentionally. 
There is beauty in the stillness. There is grace in the dusk and the dawn. 
Seek it.
Extend it. 
Live it.

Monday opens a new chapter in our family's life. That's the day we close on our farm. As about to be first time homeowners this is huge. HUGE. 
Frankly, I've no idea how I'll sleep at night till those documents are signed and the keys in my grabby little hands. We've dreamed of this day since our wedding. And, finally it is upon us. My long held dream of owning our own farm is coming true.
I've dreamed of having a farm for as long as I can remember. I am a farmer's daughter, after all. I've long had the name for our farm picked out, too. Quite frankly, Honeyman thought I'd really lost my marbles when I confided in him the name when we hadn't even started looking for farms yet. Ha! They're not lost. I just keep them locked up for safe keeping.

The name of our farm goes back to the inspiration for so much of what I do, my grandmother. My grandmother, a farmer's daughter, as well as a farmer's wife and mama, is my daily inspiration. She taught me to sew, cook, and put up. She instilled in me that hard work brought rewards and family is everything. And, while my dumplings pale in comparison to her's, that just gives me more reasons to practice. 
It only made sense that I should use her maiden name in my endeavors of what I do daily as a way to honor her. In truth, it came to me nearly five years ago in my dreams so stark a realization that I sat up and immediately wrote out the beginnings for Just Jolly, now Just Jolly Life. 
And, that has led to the name of our farm, Jolly Acres. A hat tip to the woman I loved so dearly, but also a reminder to be joyous in all things in life. To remind us that smiles are free and laughter good for the soul. That hard work can bring great rewards, joy, and a life full circle. 
Those are lessons I will be using quite a bit of in the next coming months as we work to ready our farm inside and out. A kitchen to gut, a screened in porch to add, a natural, or bio pool to implement. And, that's just the household task list. The land has to be readied, soil tested, milking stands built for the goats, feed barn built, chicken coops repaired, and on and on it goes. And, while that list is daunting, I have faith we can cross each item off one at a time at the right time for each. Each day is a new one with endless possibilities to create, make, and do. Every day a new one filled with grace and love.
I look forward to sharing our new journey with you. I'll save you a spot on the porch swing and a glass of sweet tea. Well, once we put up a porch swing. It'll be jolly! I just know it!