HomeLife
How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. - Annie Dillard
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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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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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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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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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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…
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misunderstanding is the funniest
The best conversations happen in the car. We are driving along, discussing names for future pets. (It’s what we do.) And we all keep shouting out ideas. “Huckleberry. Atticus. Dash. Lazarus. Seven.” (That last one is from me. I really want to name some animal Seven.) And then someone in the front seat suggests, “Ebenezer”. This adorable Otto voice arises from the backseat. Lots of laughter. “No, guys. That’s silly. Who would ever want to call a dog Ebenezer?” He’s choking out the words, he’s laughing so hard. We all sort of wait for his laughter to settle down. “Why is that so funny? Ebenezer is an okay name.” “No,”…
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a party. a magic kind of party.
The idea was a simple one born out of a desire to help our friend. Hilary and her family are moving to Bangladesh and you know, from what I assume, having never made a cross-the-universe move before, I think it’s a pretty expensive little venture. And as much I would like to sabotage their plans and keep them as my neighbors and nearby confidantes for the rest of all time, I know that’s not what is supposed to be happening here. So Jo and I wanted to help. We figured a fundraiser where people gave them money and we gave people something in return could be pretty fun and fairly…
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really, just a post that wraps up and sums up and wanders a bit. a post kind of like a regular day.
When the little weather ap on my phone said the sun would be shining all week long and warming up our little corner of the earth to a toasty 95 degrees most days, I decided the time to finally cave in and turn on the air conditioning was right then. I have waited and waited to flick that switch – loving the lower numbers on our Duke Power bill and being thankful that the days had really been so breezy and pleasant for such a long stretch. The air filters were fresh – I actually remembered to change them – and I slid the tiny button right on over to…
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the both.
It is surreal to wake up in Texas and to go to sleep in South Carolina on the same day. I want to talk about a day of travel with five kids. But I also kind of want to sleep. And I want to complain too for some reason. I’m feeling a little weird like that tonight. Maybe it’s the travel. Or the whiplash from Texas to South Carolina with an Atlanta stop in between for our plane to land. I’m pretty sure Night Writing under such emotional conditions is a dangerous sport for me to undertake. Looks like I’m doing it anyway. I know there is so much good…
