-
framily. the beauty of it all.
We are so blessed. Framily is a gift so beautifully overwhelming sometimes. Papa Dale and a trip to the pond to go fishing after a trip to the auto store for man errands. Big buddies and little buddies. Oh, there’s all the usual chaos that accompanies a dozen-ish young children at every meal. But it’s a happy kind of crazy. And it’s kind of my favorite type of crazy. The crazy that says, “We are all in this life together. The tantrums and the tears. The hugs and the high-fives. The spills and the shoves.” I really like this Jason Maraz song entitled…
-
a wrinkle in time
Time passes differently out here on this beautiful piece of Virginia land. At home I feel as if my days run to this rhythm: Breakfast. Let’s do chores/errands/games/crafts/school. Wait – what? It’s lunch already? Okay, now let’s play/create/read/clean. Oh goodness, why haven’t I started dinner yet? Want to play a game/take a walk/feed the pets? Good grief, it’s already past bed time. Where did this day go? Cresting the slight hill and pulling into this sloping long-laned driveway must allow you to descend somehow into a wrinkle in time. Here the days move to a rhythm more like this: Waking to the sun. Alarms (all six) turned off. Slow breakfast…
-
Fourth. To be continued.
It may be that my posts will all be on week delays this summer. It was July Fourth last week. Remember? And for our family for the last twenty plus years that has always meant the same thing — annual July Fourth party at the farm. The farm has everything that matters – people we love, wide open spaces, kids running through fields, a river, a pond. But it does not have clear, quality Internet service. Which means I can’t link you back to posts about other fun farm parties in years past and I can’t use any photos here except ones from my phone. But the one does make…
-
what was I saying?
Oh yes. While our freezer was dying and our washer was waning, we were on a road trip. To that sweet land of Virginia to celebrate a kind and generous and hilariously fun family that I like to call my cousins. Amber was getting married. And my Piper Finnian was the flower girl to Amber. Amber. A grown up who was once a kid who once wore a white dress and served as the flower girl at my wedding nearly eighteen years ago. Me. A grown up who was once a kid who once wore a white dress and served as flower girl at Amber’s mother’s wedding about thirty years…
-
hello. my name is Lacey and this has been my day.
This is a true story. We interrupt the planned post of wedding hoopla and gobs of cute pictures to share the following true-life events …… (You cannot make this stuff up.) Monday Night 11:30 p.m. – Arrive home, road weary and sleepy. Children crawl into bed dirty and wearing the clothes they’ve been sporting all day. 11:40 p.m. – London reminds Kevin that her throat feels a little funny. He flashes a light in her mouth and sees the tell-tale signs of white streaks on her tonsils. Tuesday Morning 8:00 a.m. – Drive Kevin into work because we are still a one-car family for now. (Mentally plan to shower when…
-
Again From The Dark
When you read this, I imagine I’ll be in a car with seven other people, trekking through one state to reach another. Whirlwind days. Sunshine and rain. Beach walk and icy cold water. Night swimming and late sleeping. Wedding rehearsal and wedding the real deal. Cousins. Family. Friends. Kids dressed up so sweetly I almost couldn’t bear to look. But of course I did. When I return home and have all the wonderful photos that Riley took this weekend at my disposal, I’ll share lots more. Tonight, however, I’m typing again in the dark at my brother’s house in my nephew’s bedroom and I’m too sleepy and too in-the-middle-of-it-all to…
-
driving. riding. typing in the dark.
This is a post typed on my phone well after midnight in a darkened bedroom with five of our children sleeping soundly on the floor around us at my cousin’s home in Virginia after an eight hour drive that didn’t even get started until after four o’clock in the afternoon and I’m thinking about letting it be one giant run-on sentence. Or maybe not. It’s a wedding weekend. Amber plus Daniel equals love, a nautically themed wedding near the ocean, an opportunity to see so many relatives that I love and a long drive across the entire state of North Carolina – the state which tries to separate me from…
-
a little something something
Did a little front porch rearranging recently. (I like to shift what I already own so I trick myself into thinking I have something different than I had before.) I had Kevin draw an artsy chalkboard sign for me. I strung it up with a swath of red burlap. I grabbed an old favorite hand-me-down enamel basin, a star crafted by my mom from tobacco sticks from the farm, a collection of shells from our beach trips, a wooden pulley, fresh flowers in a Coke bottle and a small bar of soap. Added a broken down chair that’s been around our house for a decade. (Kevin said I needed…
-
natural to the core, or to the pit.
We’re drinking raw milk at our house. (I’ve been drinking it most of my life actually, thanks to that dairy farm upbringing.) With Bergen’s encouragement we’ve learned about the dangers of a plethora of initials from BHT to GMO to MSG. High fructose corn syrup rarely sneaks its way into our meals or on our shelves. Two rabbits are living in hutches at our house and twelve chickens have free range of our yard. The word “natural” is not foreign here. But for a long time there was one area that I just didn’t want to listen to the reports or hear the arguments against or for. It was the…
-
I think I’ll title this – Untitled.
Car Number Two is dead. See you later. Hasta la vista. Riley and I ride together early Monday morning to have Car Number One – The Last Surviving Great Maroon Hope Running Vehicle – serviced before our next road trip. Kevin is back at home with five children waiting to meet an HVAC repairman who might fulfill this fantasy of ours of having an air conditioned home. (Did I mention the dryer has been defunct and unplugged since January?) The smiling/grimacing mechanic steps out from the garage. “How many people are in your family?” he asks. “Uh. Eight,” I respond, wondering what the number of bodies the suburban carries has…
-
40.
In less than forty days I will turn forty years old. Why is this birthday such a big deal this year? Sure, it’s cultural. And it is one of those significant birthdays I guess. But it’s mostly me, I think. Which is the problem, actually. The two problems really. Me. And thinking. I can easily become convinced that I am the only human who gets lost in the what ifs and the what have already beens. I’m so tempted to step head first into the hole of self-pity and wonder what on earth I have to show for forty years on this planet. If my life is half over (or…
-
a smattering of thoughts for a Friday morning
It’s solidly June and I’m so grateful we haven’t suffered from many staggeringly hot days thus far. I’ve misplaced my entire collection of bobby pins. They are stored in an Altoids tin. Let me know if you see them anywhere. The giant four hundred plus pages of Mansfield Park by Jane Austen is now finished. Phew. We’ve dragged out our bean bag toss game (also known by some as corn hole) and Kevin and I have been enjoying after dinner games. It’s stiff competition. Two days ago – I won! Radishes are growing like wild in our little raised bed. We discovered mimosa on the edge of our driveway. The…
-
next on the farm.
First there were the birds. And, of course, most recently, the new kittens. Who were born because we had added these kittens over a year ago. In the past it’s been chickens or a dog. (There’s so many more actually – but I am tired of linking up these posts!) It’s long been official – the Keigleys like pets. I’ve got my eye on some goats in the future plus a turkey or two, but this spring we added new creatures that I have yet to share with you. Rabbits. I’m not sure why I haven’t posted about this earlier. Growing up on a farm, my dad was pretty adamant about pets.…
