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night time at the farm.
There’s always a part of every July Fourth that leaves me feeling more whole than broken, more established than misplaced. The fireworks lighting up the sky. The sameness of tradition and wonder. The lovely simplicity of this beautiful porch where the only view is green and trees and a river’s edge. And then there are the quiet quiet moments. Long after dark has settled on the green and I step outside to let go of all my breath and I stand beneath the stars and the haze and the clouds and the Virginia moon breaking through it all. I’m standing on the bottom porch steps, a little in love with…
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jiggety jig
The Virginia mountains were in my rearview mirror all day today. The sun was shining. The clouds were white. The sky was bright. It was a good day for a drive. A couple of the kids were glad to be home. A couple wanted to stay in Virginia forever. I guess I am glad to have predictable internet back, but I have to admit, I kind of appreciated the forced social media break. It’s the end of the week and it’s the end of a long day and it’s the end of a favorite family holiday and I am at the end of my energy level. I loved seeing so many…
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bewildered in the best sort of way.
Daniel Boone is quoted as saying, I have never been lost, but I was bewildered once for three days. I hear you Dan’l. I hear you. Virginia. She’s a beauty. But she’ll rip a hole in your schedule and shift your plans and change your days. And all you’ll do is ride the wave and adjust accordingly. (And not even feel that she’s a burden. You’ll sing her praises and start looking at your calendar for days when you can return to the Motherland.)
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Gray Mountain Farm
You guys. We are at the farm. The beautiful lovely Virginia farm. Where the mountains ensconce you and the framily embraces you and the mosquitoes bite you and the wireless signal evades you and the Internet still doesn’t trespass onto the property. So I just can’t easily share the good life we are living on these gorgeous acres across the wires on this blog. And that is alright. Just picture us all tubing down a muddy river. Working on endless food prep in a continual prep-cook-serve-eat-clean cycle all the day long. Going on little hikes and gator rides. Feasting on different people’s specialty meals and desserts. Sharing long held, over…
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the sign for my forehead
And I want to say – I am not the person I used to be. I want it printed on a t-shirt – no, a sign on my forehead in Sharpie or something. (Maybe another tattoo Dad?) I want everyone to know. This life has changed me. The past year my life and emotions and thoughts and actions have shifted and sorted and been bruised and pushed down and spilled over and poured out and exploded and imploded and wrecked havoc and brought peace and in all ways and in all manners have left me a different human. I used to return e-mails on time. Or at all. And I…
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the fact that it passes
My hands shake sometimes when I type. They shake with the fears that still rise and fall with some of my heart beats. (But not all of them.) They shake when my phone lights up with a troublesome text or when I run into a person I haven’t seen in many months and their expression reminds me that they know more about me than I know about them. That’s where I am. That’s what happens. But it doesn’t last. You know? It’s a flash. And it fades. And the fact that it doesn’t last is grace enough for me right now.
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swimmers!
Have you ever wanted to cry when you saw your children accomplish something that seemed kind of almost impossible to you but then as you watched them do it you were kind of in awe at their ability and you wondered why you had never expected them to do that before? This week. Swim lessons. That was me. I don’t mean sad tears. I mean – like really excited for someone you love happy tears. There was my girl, standing at the pool’s edge, arms stretched out over her head, hands across one another with adorable form and an intense and hopeful little look on her freckly summer face. She…
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my people
Every night we gather in our living room. Bodies piled on every surface in that small space. Arms linked. Feet resting on someone else’s legs. Heads on a sibling’s shoulder. We take up each other’s space. Animal sighting and outdoor adventures are jotted down in our Nature Notes for that day. We record happy bits of our lives in our Happiness Project book. And then we pray. Although the requests and the praises change from day to day, there are several phrases and burdens that are echoed night after night, a seemingly never answered outpouring of their precious young hearts. When it’s my turn to petition and approach the maker…
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a night out
I think it was high school. And it was because of my older brother Danny. I heard this band called the Indigo Girls. I have loved, admired, respected their music ever since. Two women who sing with such incredibly beautiful harmony. And their lyrics. My word – their lyrics have been defining bits and pieces of my life for more than two decades. When I saw that these women, still writing and singing songs together after all these years, were coming to Asheville’s Orange Peel for a show, I just had to drive up to see them. Concerts aren’t too much fun alone. I was so glad that I was able…
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what to give a seven year old for her birthday
Knowing that our little friend Hanna was leaving the country soon made the choice of a birthday gift harder than usual. No one wants to receive a toy you can only play with for a month or two before you have to give it away or sell it at a yard sale. And there just isn’t room in the limited luggage for another stuffed animal or book or Lego set, no matter how cool it really is. So I asked Piper what she might like to give Hanna. And she suggested an experience. I loved that idea. Another night of fun, a fabulous little memory, to share with your friend…
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all the writing I can muster.
Sometimes I’ve got something to say. And sometimes I am tired and ideas are slow and my typing is riddled with sloppy left pinkies and uncooperative right middle fingers. And that’s when you get these posts that are part confessional and part ramble and part junior high dear diary and part Christmas newsletter and part nonsensical. So here I am. While I’m typing this I’m simultaneously texting my daughter and I am finding it both amusing and entertaining to have a daughter to crack jokes with while we are both up late tending to the needs of our homes – hers to a newborn baby and mine to tasks I couldn’t…
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post 9,429
A large collection of beautiful seashells were being explored by the fellas as we helped Hilary pack up a few things from her home. For some reason the beautiful shells created quite a hubbub with the boys and a lot of silly banter. And the jokes were a-plenty. (And, actually, pretty funny. Which means either I have a humorous son or my standards on comedy have lowered with the increase of children in my home.) Bergen Hawkeye came up to me and said, “Mom – this is my shell phone.” And then ….. “And guess what server I have Mom?” my blue-eyed charmer grinned. “It’s A, T & Sea.”
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still watching sleeping heads.
I watch kids sleep as much now as I did when they were babies. In those infant days I was checking for breathing. Hovering over their bitty heads and listening for breath sounds. Staring with sleepy eyes at their itty chests to see if I could notice the tiny rise and fall of breaths taken in and breaths breathed out. The fears I am fending off internally now are not altogether different than they were then though. Am I wrecking this one? How can I possibly get this right? There is no way I am a good enough momma to manage this. Their bodies are much bigger now. The crib…
