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A Slew of July Fourth Memories.
Oh you guys. You know July Fourth is my favorite holiday. And I’m not home writing now and typing this post – I’m embracing internet-less good times at The Farm in Virginia. And I’m sure I will return with photos too many and stories too much. But – right now I’m just giving you a little weekend reading. I’m linking up as many July Fourth posts as I can find and more than you probably want to see. Here you go ….. The one with London in a red cowboy hat and Piper making pouty toddler faces. The one with a picture when we tried to create a Camp Fourth…
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In the Heart of the Country
You know how much I love Virginia. We had this idea to share the love a little. And so we invited some friends to trek it up a few states and experience Virginia with us. Sadly, really truly sadly, not all of our buddies could make the journey up this time for a host of reasons. But one family was able to drive down that gloriously long driveway with us and bask in the beauty that is The Farm. I don’t want to gush too profusely – I love my friends who couldn’t make the journey with us too much for that. But I will say this – it was…
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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…
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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…
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texas wins.
Last weekend the kids and I spent two days in Charlotte. In December we drove there for a birthday party. I can’t even begin to recount the number of Charlotte-bound drives our Suburban has made over the past five years of living in South Carolina. The spotting of the giant peach water tower is always our half way mark. But after this week, I won’t be heading that way so much. I’m not going to say I’ll miss the drive on highway 85. But, if you could hear the depths of my sighs right now, you’d know how much I’m going to miss my destination. Emma and her family are…
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a long-winded build up to some Fourth photos. that’s all.
Yesterday was what London calls a “home day”. It’s just like what it sounds like – a day where we spend every waking hour at home. These are her absolute favorite type of days. We stayed home primarily because we had no access to a car. Which was fine. To be fair, the kids stayed home all day. Kevin and I actually enjoyed a now-rare date night. The kids and I had plans to attend a library event in the afternoon but both cars were occupied so we skipped out on the library event. Which was fine also, except now our library books are overdue. Again. (I’ve made a basic…
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How Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count the Ways.
What I Love About the Farm: Hanging out with Sally and Emma and Sarah. The wide open spaces. (No neighborhood in the distance. No cell towers. No highway over the ridge. Nothing but green trees and green grass.) These two boys developing a brand new buddy-ship. No Internet connection. (Yes, I love this. I type these little posts at night, lying in bed, through my phone. And even that service is sketchy and unreliable. And I like how that makes me feel marvelously distant from all other realities except the one wide-open reality in which I am currently experiencing.) The loud chaos of so many children playing at once. And…
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Tradition.
The farm has little to no Internet. So it’s phone entries again for this girl. But I’d say the view makes up for the Internet-less. And then some. It’s that wonderful holiday. Sort of my favorite holiday. (Especially if we don’t count birthdays.) July Fourth. The week where the farm in Virginia is completely over run by hordes of romping, dashing, enthusiastic children. And we eat our meals all together and we always have dessert. We stick ourselves on top of old tire tubes and willingly place those tubes and our bodies in the muddy cold waters of the Pigg River. We gather all together and eat picnic foods all…
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Friday.
This weekend we’re just gazing upon sweet Miller. And making our little toys into safari creatures with our friends. And sharing a lot of hugs. That is all.
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tradition
tradition: a long-established custom that has been passed on. Yes. Perfect. I love tradition. I love events and details and activities that you do year after year, holiday after holiday, season after season. And I love July Fourth. Love it. Love the mad rush that leads up to the day. Love the kids helping decorate the porch so it looks all shades of blue, red and white festive. Love the tattoos that every kid chooses to slap across their cheeks. I think part of what I love is how you can try to make so many particulars the same – the food, the location, the order of events (guns, tubing,…
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Resurfacing.
Last week we were in Virginia. The Mother Land. My state of birth. The birth state of four of our six children. And she was beautiful. I know I will be dissecting last week for many posts and tossing out photos like candy on Halloween. Or like sparklers on July Fourth. It was wonderful to see the gang all lined up for our Camp Fourth week. And it was goodgoodgood to be in a landscape as familiar as the tops of my children’s heads. I’ve missed that. The dip and the curves of the back roads that lead to my parents’ former farm and my framily’s current farm. The willow…
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off the grid
It seems that for the past four days or so I have been unofficially “off the grid”. Mostly unintentionally. I think I first jumped off the internet waves Thursday morning because I was just plain old too busy to get online. I was too busy . . . sweeping the filthy crumb-encrusted floors of our house, running to the grocery store to be sure we had adequate supplies of milk, cereal and ice cream, piling laundry in and out of the washing machine in hopes that our children looked slightly less like ragamuffins than usual, and making lists of what I needed to get accomplished before 3 p.m. (I never…
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Another Birthday Story. Different Birthday(s).
Remember how I said our stop in Atlanta was a soft landing place before making the haul to our next stop? That was true. (Because I don’t lie here – right? Well, at least not intentionally.) We drove nine hours to Florida two days before Christmas because we wanted to be a part of a fabulous birthday surprise for two marvelous people. Maybe you remember seeing their faces here before. Oma. Papa Dale. The matriarch and patriarch of our framily. They both turned sixty. And we made it (just barely in time) to see their surprised faces as they entered the room. And by “just barely in time” I mean…
