this moment

Joining SouleMama, and many others, in this moment. 

In Amanda's words: "A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember."

Please link to your moment too -- I love to see what you are enjoying this week!

this moment

Joining SouleMama, and many others, in this moment. 

In Amanda's words: "A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember."

Please link to your moment too -- I love to see what you are enjoying this week!

this moment {in the downpour}

Joining SouleMama, and many others, in this moment. 

In Amanda's words: "A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember."

Please link to your moment too -- I love to see what you are enjoying this week!

it's all good

Something has been afoot here.  Some shifts, some stresses, some changes, some serious changes, some summer weeks flying by as if they are rushing towards something unseen.  A friend of mine e-mailed yesterday and described this summer as a doozy.  Yes, oh yes, a doozy indeed. 

As these summer weeks have marched along at a fast clip, I've kept wanting to pause it all and plan our dream list.  Brainstorm the must-do's, make a long list with the kids, think big about how to spend our summer days.  But it seems we haven't spent our summer days, they have spent us.  Now all that is left is making peace with it, that our perfect summer alluded us, alluded me.

But then I remember a moment, or a day, or a special little trip and I realize that added together they have made our summer good.  Not perfect, but good.  In a doozyish kind of way.

So I'm keeping the very long to-do list in perspective, thinking of ways to fully enjoy these last weeks of summer, believing that all of the loose ends will twine together beautifully, and remembering a moment, a day, a special trip.  Because really there have been many...

this moment

Joining SouleMama, and many others, in this moment. 

In Amanda's words: "A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember."

Please link to your moment too -- I love to see what you are enjoying this week!

perfectly perfect

By day's end I realized that the day had been perfect.  Perfectly perfect.  It was not one thing, or even the right combination of things.  It was everything.

The sky.  The sand.  The water.

Cousins.  Always cousins.

Breathing.  Deeply.  Contentedly.

The accomplishment of the high dive.  And going over and over and over again.

Learning a new game.  And winning first place.

Sandcastle building.  And winning first place.

A day that felt like a vacation.  A real vacation (but without the travel and packing.)

A day with many cousins around to lighten the load, and make the deep, contented breathing possible.

Lunch, and later, dinner.  Feasts prepared and brought by my Mama.

The sky and its many colors as hour upon hour passed.

Enjoying the smell of natural water on my skin, in my hair, on all of the kids.

Sand that has smoothed the rough edges, and not just on the bottoms of my feet.

A dock in the deep end to swim to.  Sitting there, talking and laughing with my sister.  I laid down to worship the sun.  Then did back dives off of the side.

Laughter.  And sunscreen.  And watermelon.  And family.  And sky, sand, and water.

Staying until the sun was well into setting.  With kids asleep moments after leaving for home.

Everything summer, perfectly perfect.

this moment

Still a chance to win the latest issue of ART TOGETHER.  Enter here for a chance to win!

Joining SouleMama, and many others, in this moment. 

In Amanda's words: "A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember."

Please link to your moment too -- I love to see what you are enjoying this week!

this moment {confidence}

Joining SouleMama, and many others, in this moment. 

In Amanda's words: "A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember."

Please link to your moment too -- I love to see what you are enjoying this week!

the good {and a giveaway}

Zip.

Zip.

Zip.

That is the sound of our summer rushing by.

Zip.  A week.

Zip.  Another week.

I sit here, on the cusp of Independence Day, and grapple with my clumbsy entrance to this summer.  As is life with four kids bursting with energy and intensity and creativity, our summer has started off as a mix.  Some good, some not so good.  Toss in a hefty dose of anxiety about a couple things, and well, that's been these rushing weeks.

So I'm aiming for graceful.  It may be a bit late, and accompanied by the whooshing sound of weeks zipping by, but graceful is what I want my kids to see how summer can be.  The good, and the not so good.

And there has been plenty of good.

Moments of fun, mischief, curiosity, a hometown carnival.  A growing boy in his element

A wonderful afternoon with Annie, a dear friend who is so talented.

So much more good, if I look closely, and slow myself enough to take in these zipping by weeks.

And this.  This is so very good!   

 

This magazine.  Amy is the talented artist behind Amy Hood Arts, and the creator of the Art Together publication.  

Issue 4: Mixed Media/Collage is a journey filled with inspiration, insight, and permission.  Lots of permission to explore and create and discover the beauty of taking many different materials, objects, textures, colors and making art.

Her guidelines are perfectly presented for getting you started, or for helping you delve deeper into the art of mixed media and collage.  The projects vary in scope and time frame, and all can be adjusted for any age - so creating can happen together.  The magazine is full of gorgeous examples, and tons of resources and links.  I love that the projects are flexible enough to make them your own, and bring a playfulness and joy perfect for this time of year.  Take a peek at Issue 4, and check out the beauty to also be found in Issues 1, 2, and 3.

Amy is generously offering one lucky reader a free copy of Art Together, Issue 4.  Enter by leaving a comment below.  A winner will be selected on Friday afternoon, July 11. 

(Congratulations to Kortney - Amy will be sending you your Art Together issue!)

Everyone can also enjoy 20% off of any Art Together purchase with the code: ARTPLAY.

I can't think of a better way of being graceful with these remaining summer weeks.  Slow down, feel the freedom of creating mixed media with my littles.  And maybe even sneaking some time in to create all on my own.

this moment {let summer begin}

Joining SouleMama, and many others, in this moment. 

In Amanda's words: "A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember."

Please link to your moment too -- I love to see what you are enjoying this week!

about pie and people

I baked this strawberry pie today.

The littlest of the kids helped pick the berries from our generous neighbor's garden.  The corn starch needed for the recipe was borrowed from the neighbor across the street.  Each of the kids helped bake it in some way -- cutting strawberries, making the crust, mixing the filling, whipping the cream.

We enjoyed it for snack tonight, piled high with that fresh whipped-up cream.  And I felt grateful for the many hands that contributed to its goodness.  Amazing even.

Yet I couldn't pick the berries, or make the pie, or even eat it without thinking about the last strawberry pie I made.

It was June 25, 2013.

The day had started with this...

Strawberry picking with all four kids.

By the time we were done picking and loaded back in the van, I was done.  With a capital D.O.N.E.  It was maybe 10:00 in the morning.  It wasn't what had happened at the strawberry farm, but everything surrounding it.  We were in the second week of being out of our old house, but not yet in our new one.  I had spent many days apart from my husband, solely responsible for the kids in an environment without any routine.  I was exhausted.  I was emotional.  I was anxious about getting to our new home. 

And all I wanted to do -- to feel some sense of normalcy -- was to pick strawberries and bake a pie.  (I had somewhat reluctantly come to terms with the fact that there was no way, no how, I was going to get to make any jam.)

But a pie.  I was determined for a pie.

I called my sister Michele from right there in the parking lot of the strawberry farm, and tried explaining all of this through my sobbing.

Her response: "Bring the kids here.  Drive here right now.  We will figure it out."

I came to find out later that she couldn't understand a word I was saying.  Yet she took on her blubbering sister, with my four over-tired, out-of-routine, no sense of home, been in the van for hours and hours children.

She amended her afternoon plans to include me.  She rallied her kids - my dear nieces and nephew - to be in charge of their cousins for the day.

I borrowed a sun dress and shoes, and off we went for several hours.  A lunch with our sister Danielle.  Followed by a behind the scenes tour of a nearby theater at which Danielle was performing.

We laughed.  I cried.  It was wonderful.

That night, I made a strawberry pie.  I used the berries my littles had picked that morning.  I borrowed a pan and all of the other ingredients from my sister.  She wrote down the recipe for me.  It baked in the oven of a house that other friends generously opened to us for several weeks as we were in between homes.

That pie I made on June 25 of last year, and we ate for breakfast on June 26, tasted amazing.

Amazing with generosity.  Amazing with gratitude.  Amazing with humility.

I thought of all of this as I ate today's pie.  The pie many hands contributed to on June 12, 2014.  And I cried.  Even a year later, I feel very deeply how hard that time had been.  And how important it was that people were there.  And still are, in so many ways.

I've tried to be like that - to be there - in this new house, in this new community.

Maybe that's what it's all about.  Being good to each other.  Not always understanding the words being blubbered, but knowing what is being said.  Inviting them over, without their having to ask.  Being very good, when it is most needed.

With extra whipped cream on top, thank you.