Merry merry, you'ns.
These August days are flying by. We can kill hours shooting the breeze on the front porch: watering things, picking things, pointing out bright birds, planting seeds. We are barefoot, we are constantly grubby, we are all sleeping great.
Just before a haircut. Seriously, I am his mama, I know it, but how pretty is that boy?
We have been to far lands and back since I was last here. Home to my family. Into the wilds of moving a home. Through the woods of unpacking. Over the meadows of welcoming new friends into our new place (more on that later). Into the trenches of a stomach virus (a first for the kid).
We love our new house. The small human tears through its long parts, feet hammering the floor while shouting "I love this house!" We are playing tunes on a porch where the eye sees little more than things that grow. I am riding a bike through three pastures to work every morning. We are harvesting armloads from the beautiful garden our friends left for us, tending to small fruit trees they left sweetly labeled for us. Fall has been flirting at the edge of the heat.
It's a happy coincidence that one of my BFFs lives right where my husband's family lives. This day with her felt like such freedom. We were eating at The Blue Spoon and if you are in the neighborhood someday you should be too (best BLT in the land, though watch out for the crusty crusts, they'll get your mouth).
We're back from Maine. We loved every minute of it and as always I leave with a sense that there's a home for us there. We might not ever live in it, but it's there. We love our people there so much and then there's that wild coastline and incredible ocean air and food to die for.
We were there for some milestones. B and I walked our wedding field on our fourth anniversary. It's every bit as beautiful as we remember and there is powerful magic for us in that spot. Four years full of such riches, I am so grateful for them.
The crazy last days of the semester draw nearer. I'm ready for the summer vibe at work, indeed.
The kid is so rad these days. I can't believe he's our guy, we are so lucky. The words are tumbling out of him, they make us laugh six thousand times a day. We are teaching him the names of flowers and trees, and he is totally game. Ask him, he'll tell you about the Jack-in-the-Pulpit at the top of the ridge, he'll school you on Daisy Fleabane and Lyre Leaved Sage and Solomon's Seal and the Buttercups dotting the meadows here. He knows that he can eat violets and clover leaves and redbud blossoms, and we are already haunting our berry spots just in case we find the magic April strawberry. I take a lot of pleasure in giving him this kind of geography: this is where you're from, kid.
Sometimes when he's quiet for too long and one of us gets the spider sense that he might be up to mischief, we tiptoe through the house and find him. Sometimes he has invented new naughtiness (discovering the case of figs in the closet, for example) but more of often than not these days this is what we see:
We miss the yard. It's that time of the year. We're getting there on the vegetable front, but I miss our flowers - the peonies and columbines and bachelor buttons and dahlias and bee balms and bright red yarrow and tansy. I will plant some of these in our vegetable garden to attract good bugs, but since the garden is no longer in the front yard my time with it is slimmer.