The Gypsy’s Road

Ahhhh Hello, 2024.
A new chapter.
A new blank slate.
365 (358 by the time I got around to this post) BRAND NEW DAYS to SLAY.
Right?
Isn’t that the goal?
To Slay?
To grow financially.
To be that Badass Boss Babe we see every day when we open Instagram.
To cut out the toxic people in our lives.
To do the things that give us peace and spend time only with people who make us feel comfortable and “okay.”
To fill our own cups.
To get enough sleep and to *FINALLY* get that beach body we’ve been striving for since we hit 25.
To say “no” to everything that doesn’t feel good and yes to adventure and fun and all the good things I deserve in this life.
To obtain that comfort we crave so much.
Yes. YES. These are the goals. THIS- THIS is OUR YEAR. FINALLY.

By this point- If you’ve been around here long- I think you know there’s about to be more.
You’re right. There is.

Somewhere over the years- we’ve all immersed ourselves in internet self help culture. We’ve found influencers we adore with feeds full of what appears to be lives we can only dream of. We’ve read posts about how we’re supposed to be saying no and setting boundaries and growing (while somehow still being comfortable?) Somewhere along the way- we’ve let the enemy creep in and convince us that becoming god to ourselves was holy. Yeah. I said that. Let me repeat it.
We. LET SATAN wiggle into our hearts and minds and tell us that WE (me, myself and I) were the MOST IMPORTANT people in our lives. We allowed it. We continue to allow it.

Look- none of the above things are inherently wrong.
There’s nothing wrong with having financial goals or mental and physical health goals or even distancing ourselves from people, and things that encourage us to behave in less than savory ways. All of that is fine- righteous even.
But what if I told you we’ve taken it too far? What if I told you that NO WHERE in the bible have we been called to lives of comfort or ease? WHAT IF I told you that “cutting toxic people out” didn’t mean “anyone who makes me uncomfortable, disagrees with me on sensitive subjects, says things that sometimes hurts my feelings etc etc etc.”

What if Jesus had come to earth and forced everyone he came in contact with to shower him with praises- to agree with what he said.
What if he was just too worn out to heal the sick and raise the dead- what if he just said “no.”
What if he insisted on the best of the best of accommodations- the 5 star hotel and all the amenities- because OF COURSE he is a KING.
What if he didn’t have the time to become distracted- to feel the woman in the crowd who touched his cloak or to spend the time with the little children or to go into the home of Zacchaeus and sit with the people who had nothing to offer him?
What if he was so focused on the goal of getting back to the comfort of Heaven or getting to a million followers, or building his business, or hitting the gym, or spending time with the people who could send him one more step up the social ladder? WHAT IF?

I mean- He couldn’t be faulted for it. He was, after all, the Prince of the WHOLE WORLD. He came from a heavenly home of unimaginable comfort and unending praise and doting by the angels. HE HAD THE RIGHT to demand all of the worldly amenities.

Instead-
He washed feet.
He sat with the prostitutes and tax collectors and thieves and liars and cheats. The dirty scoundrels.
He slept on dirt floors and rode in rickety old boats.
He fed thousands when he could’ve sent them home.
He took a moment to love on the people who needed it most.
He listened to his 12 closest friends grumble and groan.
He listened to their lack of faith EVEN WHEN THEY BORE WITNESS to his miracles.
He loved Judas as much as he loved Peter.
He had patience with those who couldn’t see the vision or the mission.
He said “yes” to the opportunity to show love and grace EVERY SINGLE TIME.

This year- achieve all your goals- just examine your heart and make sure it hasn’t weaseled its way to the head of your life’s table. Make sure while your hustling and grinding and chasing peace- you’re taking the opportunity to live like Jesus did.

“The heart is deceitful above all things, who can understand it? I, The Lord, search the heart and examine the mind, to reward each person according to their conduct according to what their deeds deserve.” Jeremiah 17:9-10

Fall harvest is usually my favorite to photograph, but this season I only have 3 photos- and only one of any equipment.
Some seasons are more fun than others. In life and in harvest.
I find that the best way to get through the less fun seasons are to look for the things you’re thankful for.
This season I’m thankful for:
-lots of days to cut
-farmers who trust us to bring in their crops
-acres to be harvested
-a crew that rolls with the punches, who can take it on the chin when it’s rough and still find a way to laugh over dinner of an evening. A crew who handles plans changing 5729592 times and manages to get the job done no matter the circumstance. A crew full of people my kids can look up to- who will play catch and football and make jokes, handshakes, and share laughs and jokes with them- real built in “big brothers.”
- laughs over meals
-harvest sunsets
- evenings in the cab with my family
- good friends who are always willing to lend an ear, a shoulder, and even a hand
-the small successes that have happened that we’ve been to worn out to celebrate or even notice

There weren’t as many photos of the bulk of this season. There was only one of corn harvest at all. Honestly at times I’ve thought I’d maybe rather just forget this last month.
But when I sit and think about it, even on days and weeks when it didn’t feel like it- there has been so much more to be thankful for than we realized. There has been protection and providence from the Good Lord that we were too wound tight to even notice in the moment. There’s been tears and frustration and arguments- but they’ve been outweighed by laughs and conversations and games of catch in the corn stalks. There’s been lots of good too.

So, here’s your friendly reminder that even when the season is hard- even when it feels like you aren’t even able to stand up and catch your breath again before life stomps you back to the ground- in each day, there is something to be thankful for. There is growth happening in your life.
Change is rarely comfortable.
Growth is rarely comfortable.

Change, grow, and rise again with gratitude in your heart anyways.

I’ve been in a battle lately.
A mental battle that is.

A combination of exhaustion and burn out that always tends to begin creeping in this time of year, compounded with unforeseen stressors and the over consumption of current events.

I know. I do this to myself.

I know you’re not supposed to “borrow trouble.”
I know you’re supposed to trust the Lord.
I know you’re not supposed to try and maintain control of situations that are, realistically, out of your control.

But some days that’s harder than others.

I’ve built a world I enjoy. A vision through rose colored glasses. A place where *most people are good and that justice and good always prevail quickly and efficiently. A place where, in my future, I drink coffee and watch grand babies in the yard from my front porch bench free from the stresses of this world.

I stumbled for a bit. The glasses fell. I’ve spent a couple weeks with a clenched jaw and a knotted stomach. Between personal stresses and the wondering “do those even actually matter? The world is actually burning down.”
But this morning I woke up in a warm home, got snuggles from my boys before sending them off to a school we love and took a walk in the cool morning air. I came home and read my Bible (as per usual) showered, and actually *got ready* for the day. Hair, makeup, all of it. I went outside to do my chores and took a moment to linger in the barn. A place I often find solace. I breathed in the air around me and cared for the critters God gave me. And for a moment’s time, life didn’t feel so heavy.

Mental health is important. We say it all the time. But I’m talking to you, too. The one who *knows* it’s important, but just needs to do that one more thing- or accomplish these next few tasks.
Sometimes caring for your mental health means taking drastic measures.

But some days- more often than not, honestly- it’s just recognizing that you’ve allowed your brain to fall into a pit of despair. It’s understanding that WE create our own neurological pathways and when we become negligent of the content and the thoughts we allow to flow through those paths, we pull the curtains on ourselves. Thisn is not to minimize mental health issues others may face- but simply as a reminder for those of us (because Lord knows I’m not the only one) who’ve found ourselves filled with anxiety and frustration and depression and back again over the last few weeks to take a step back and take a breath. To remember WHO is in control (and it ain’t you.)
To surrender the need for control and to breathe in the freedom of knowing who holds us.

Sometimes, you just gotta put on a full face of makeup and sit in the barn for a bit to remember who you belong to.

Exodus 14:13
Fear not, stand firm and see the salvation of the Lord, which he will work for you today.

I’m always enamored by abandoned buildings.
I always wonder if the walls could talk, what stories could they tell?

If the walls of this old house could talk, what would they say?
Would they tell of the laughter and love that filled their rooms?
Would they remember fondly the sound of little feet running down the hall and the feeling of sticky hands gliding across them as mama scolded not to make a mess?
Would they reminisce on the smell of fresh baked bread or the heat of the stove while they canned their summer garden’s loot?
Would they recall stories told ‘round the fire and snow soaked socks hung up to dry?
Would they remember in reverence when a silent baby was birthed- the tears that were shed and the slow healing that came from within the home which they hold?
Would they remember the visitors who came or a table which never had quite enough room?
Reminisce the time when the fire came so close they weren’t sure they’d escape?

Or would those walls have stories so dark?
Tales of addiction?
Tales of abuse?
Tales of grief and of struggles unseen?
The story of babes gone to bed hungry, or mama in heaps crying on the floor trying to dig her way out of disparity to make the ends meet?
Maybe orphans just doing their best to survive?
A winter so harsh that one by one they all disappeared- laid together under the ground upon the hill to the west.

Would they tell of the day their last occupant said goodbye?
The tears that were shed or their hope of a new family?
How the weeks turned to months and then into years with nary a soul for them to protect?
Would they then chuckle at the parties local teens held inside as they hid away from their parents and the law?
Would they tell of the passersby who slow down and marvel at what must have been?
Of the critters who’ve made their shelter snug in their space?
Would the walls tell of it’s aches and pains from no TLC and of weathering the elements- the wind and the snow; the storms and the sun.
Would they tell of the joy it’s found in first blooms of the wildflowers in the meadow out back and the gentleness of the first snow of each season?

Would they remember the days of old, where their rooms were full and floors were swept, the memories they bore witness to?

If walls could talk… what stories would they tell?

Catch me chasing mountain rainbows, how bout that?
🌈

Well.
Our summer on the road has come to a close.
We didn’t get to take as many adventures as usual this season.
Between baseball early in the summer, weather that didn’t cooperate the whole summer, and the feeling of “hurry up and wait.” We felt like we were constantly busy- but rarely accomplishing anything.

We did manage to squeeze in a few small little adventures.
We recently picked up the hobby of geocaching- the boys love doing the “scavenger hunt” and learning about the terrain or even little tidbits of local history through those hunts.

Over the next few weeks we will share a few of our favorite little mini adventures.
Beginning in Southern OK and working our way up to Colorado.
(We didn’t make it far north this year- weather delays put us coming back home for school the same week our crew heads on north for their last “gypsy harvest” stop of the 23 season.

Photos in the Panhandle were sparse- much like the wheat.
But the nights weather- and life allowed the scenery sure didn’t disappoint.

A few weeks ago we got to cut around my hometown, I don't get to go back there very often as an adult, but my time there is always such fun and I always look forward to the next time we get to visit, reminisce, and take the boys around some of the places I used to enjoy as a child.
I am just now getting around to getting a few of those photos off my camera and uploaded. Even though we haven't had the most cooperative weather in the field, while we are home, there are always a million things that need done before we head on north- so editing and uploading time falls to the bottom of the priority list.

The herfs really should have been paid models. HAH!

*Blog post- partial update on where we've been/partial life musings*
***************************************************************
Life is a puzzle box.
You ever thought of it that way?
Me either.
Back story...
This summer has been wild. Bouncing back and forth between the harvest trail and baseball games back home. My kids have already clocked over half the miles they usually have put on in the car by this point in the summer- and been troopers about it. We’ve been BUSY. We’re often busy, but this summer has felt extra busy- even in spite of rain delays and wild weather.
A few weeks ago, I was lying in bed- attempting to sleep in just a bit after a few days of sheep shearing and ahead of an all-day baseball tournament when my mom called me at 7 am (6 am her time.) Of course I answered it- she never calls at that time of day. That morning, she informed me that she had just found out that an old mentor of mine had been placed on hospice care. That morning, the busy lifestyle I had immersed myself in seemed to have ground its breaks to a sudden halt.

We’d been- what felt like- running behind getting to our stop in my hometown. Rains, both down south and there had held us up and slowed our progress down. The panic of not getting the wheat out in time before the grain rotted in the field or we weren’t so lucky in dodging a hailstorm was growing by the day- for us, and for the farmers, I suspect. Couple the panic with a profound sadness and it made for a mama, wife, and (whatever you’d call my role on the harvest crew) that was an emotional mess. Thank goodness that I am so fortunate to be surrounded by such graceful family and friends- and, even though I haven’t lived there in 12 years- the surrounding of my hometown brought a comfort I couldn’t describe.

I was fortunate to have been able to see that mentor 3 times in the week I was around home- what could have been the frustration of rain turned into the blessing of time. Time, I felt I desperately needed. You see, this man had been a huge part of my high school life. A person who was there not only for me, but my family also, in the wake of some pretty tough times. His classroom had become a place of solace- and life lessons that I would carry with me through adulthood. Once I left home- I often would think as I was driving through or visiting that I needed to shoot a text or message his wife on facebook and see about saying “hi.” But I didn’t. I was busy. I figured they were busy. And that was a weight I wrestled with for what seemed like an eternity- but was really only a few days.
The final time I saw him, I met my high school best friends- and for the first time in years- and the last time earthside- the self- proclaimed favorite students reunited with our favorite teacher. I’d left my boys with my grandparents. When I picked them up my oldest- with his incredibly innocent but incredibly wise beyond years insight asked “Mama, how come he has to go live with Jesus now?”
A question I myself had been asking. “Why do good people have to go through such nasty times?” “Why now?” “What good does God get out of the taking of a life too young?”
But as I sucked up more tears words began to come from my mouth- and as much as I was explaining it to my 7-year-old, the Spirit was explaining it to me.

Life is like a box of puzzles.

Earth is the box- and you know how in the box, the puzzle pieces are all mixed up? Well- we’re the pieces. We’re cozy and comfy in our box. In the box we become surrounded by other “pieces” and they’re beautiful and we become friends- even family. We live our lives in that box. Sometimes we get shaken up and in that shaking- new pieces come into our lives. Sometimes the shaking is violent and we wind up in new places with all new faces (think big moves, going off to college, etc) and sometimes the shaking is just a little rustle- a readjustment. Sometimes pieces get taken away. Do you think the pieces in the box know why? Do you think they know what picture they’re destined to create?
When people in our lives get taken away it’s so hard to understand- because we’re the pieces in the box. We don’t know what the big put together version of the puzzle looks like- but each day God takes a few more pieces from the box and places them firmly in their place in the “big picture.” Those of us still stuck in the box feel a sadness and confusion sometimes when that happens- because we wanted them still here with us- it is chaotic but comfortable- and even beautiful in its very own way. Someday it will be our turn to be picked up out of the box and placed into the “put together” version. It could be when we’re really young or really old- our job isn’t to worry about when or why- but to have faith in the beauty of the picture being created by the master artist.

There is peace in the understanding. Still sadness, but peace.
All this served as a lesson in the slowing down and the reaching out- not just when tragedy hits. Send the text, make the phone call, invite them to dinner… make the time to just reach out. Appreciate the beauty and the shortness of life. Love the chaos of the box but look forward to the placement in the “big picture” with eagerness.

Is there a better sight than green machines wrapping up a field right at twilight?

I can’t explain it, but if you’ve ever smelled freshly cut wheat or an incoming rain storm, you can smell this photo.

Lately…

Southern OK wheat harvest has kicked off, and as per usual, supper time field deliveries are the most beautiful drives.

Oh hey, it’s been forever since I posted here. (Anyone who knows me, knows spring gets incredibly busy around here!)
We’ve been wrapping up lambing, selling sheep, selling cattle, and doing ALL the harvest prep and I just haven’t really made the time to take my camera out and practice a ton.
That being said, I’m sure you may recognize the slight change in the name of this page. As I mentioned in my intro post not so long ago (I know) this page would change and evolve as life and interests grow and change as well.
With harvest season comes travel. A lot of travel. Really, a lot of travel with just the kids and I. When we first started custom harvesting I told Nick that it was absolutely okay to dive into this as long as I was able to take advantage of exploring every place we stop. Over the last few years, the boys and I have been on many hikes, through museums, cultural centers, and scenic pull-offs. We’ve swam in lakes and rivers from Texas to the Canadian border and done our best to soak in the history and culture of every place we visit. I often get comments about “how do you do it with such little guys?” or “I just couldn’t do that alone!” (All totally fine, btw) and I thought this would be a fun place to share, not only photos of the places we visit- but also our adventures, favorite stops along the harvest trail, and maybe even some tips and tricks I have when it comes to exploring and traveling with little ones. This may also turn into a place where I write random musings and devotionals from my daily Bible study…. A blog minus the “blog website” if you will. (I think we can all agree I’m probably not organized enough to run and keep up with an actual web page.)

So again, thank you for following this page. Thanks for sticking with me while I transition and create. I hope you’ll enjoy following us along the Gypsy Road.

(Enjoy these iPhone photos of the calves from the other day to grab your attention)

"The full moon knows my peril and guides me gently through my darkness, easing me into the glaring light of day."
-Greta Stone

I have always been enamored by the night sky. January's full moon put on the prettiest of shows to begin the new year.

How did you spend the New Year?

I welcomed the first two of many lambs to come on our farm, golfed and spent time with friends and family ringing in 2023.

I’ve got some big things up my sleeve coming soon, and I can hardly wait to share them with you!

I pray that 2023 brings you blessings and growth.

Hey everyone!
Thanks for stopping by.
A quick intro to the face behind the page and the images.

I’m Amber, I’ve been interested in capturing the world around me for a long time now- however I just recently got serious about becoming better educated and practicing the art.

My main gig is following the custom harvest trail from Southern OK to Northern MT harvesting grain crops. I also raise sheep and kids with my husband on our little slice of the panhandle prairie.

Currently, portrait photography isn’t necessarily the direction I am envisioning this little venture going- mostly you’ll see nature, farm life, travel, etc. with prints coming available eventually -but as my life is an ever evolving thing, this page may also evolve as well.

I hope you’ll stick around and join the adventure down this Gypsy’s Road.