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!

Wishing you a weekend full of goodness!

{fall} weekending

Fall.  Fall. Fall.  It's all about fall, and discovering this season in a new way in our new home.

Morning walks in the woods, coffee in hand.

Afternoon walks in the woods, wet with rain.

Evening walks in the woods, spotting deer.  Always deer.  (And for the first time wild turkeys!)

A first family clam bake.  A first for our family, not the First Family, cool as that would be.

Organizing the garage.  Hooray!  (And please don't tell my 22 year old self that my 42 year old self gets excited about organizing the garage.)

A bit of laundry.  Always laundry.

Laundry and deer.

And then there is gladsome.  It is soon.  12 days soon.  So details are being attended to here and there, every chance I get.  The women attending are in for a very, very special weekend.  And it is a comfortable knowledge that gladsome is becoming part of my very own fall landscape.


{Weekending with the wonderful Amanda.}

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!

Wishing you a weekend full of goodness!

gathering

A trip to a farm over the weekend was just the right balance of roasted corn and ice cream, pumpkin picking and corn mazing.   So we are nearing a sufficient number of pumpkins on the front walk, and the countdown until they become jack 'o lanterns is underway.  But for now these pumpkins are gathered together with the mums and corn stalks.

The fall is bringing gathering of all sorts.  The leaves finally gathering on the ground.  According to our neighbors, our trees tend to be the last to drop leaves.  But it is beginning and it feels and smells and sounds like fall.

I've gathered some art supplies into a basket.  I've been finding them spread throughout the kitchen.  Seems they need to be there.  So I've gathered them into a spot they can stay, at least for now.

Every time we empty a jar of homemade grape jelly another is usually immediately opened.  A current favorite is a dollop of the jelly goodness onto plain Greek yogurt.  This year I canned more than double what I did last year.  I'm already scheming to double it again next year.

That yellow ball.  That yellow ball.  That yellow ball.  Munchkin has had it in near constant motion this week.  A one-man soccer game in the front foyer that lasts hours.  If I am understanding his running commentary, he plays for a powerhouse team called "The Dingos."  Seems they can easily score 1,000 points.

Of course planning for gladsome is well underway.  Now that will be quite a gathering.

In the meantime,  Honey and I are planning another special gathering.  This one at our home, to plant our Peace Pole.  Yes, Honey is the king of cool birthday presents.  The King.

There's been some tie dye.  A much needed late-night-Mama-date with a dear friend.  And night after night of Netflixing all five seasons of Parks and Recreation.  All.  Five.  Seasons.  Oh, hello life, nice to have you back again.

And hello to you all.  Hope you are gathering goodness of your own.

weekending

Last week was hard.  Really hard.  From A to Z, from top to bottom, from inside out.  Especially from inside out.  It felt like I spent most of my days holding my breath and holding back tears.


I got to Friday afternoon, and slowly exhaled.  As I waited for Honey to come home from work, I sat near an open window, drinking a fresh cup of coffee, flipping through the new IKEA catalog.  It felt good, and strange.  When I sit it reminds me how little I sit.  This must change, I think. 

The weekend was good.  Busy too.  We inched a bit further on some house projects.  (Oh, if we could just race instead of inch!)  Honey and I wandered Lowe's - sans kids - for over two hours.  Two luxurious hours.  Then we ate a sushi roll in the car and called it a date.

We had very un-October weather.  So why not play in swim suits?  It isn't every fall you can rake leaves and have water play at the same time.

I begin this week remembering to breath.  Breathe deeply the chilly air.  After all, the rain last night brought October up to speed and I'm wearing new wool socks and a sweatshirt.  All the while remembering our weekending...

listening

Some mornings there is a moment when the day tells you what to do.

A whisper.  Persistent and clear.  When you leave the dishes undone in the kitchen and slip on the quickest clothes and go.  When you abandon any plans that had been on your list or in your mind.

You follow the whisper, a quiet roar.

Yesterday was one of those mornings.  I heard the whisper, simple and profound.  "Go pick grapes" it said.

So we took a trip (somehow perfectly timed between school bus pick ups and pre-school drop offs)  to a local farm.  A vineyard overflowing with concord grapes.  Where little hands can reach.  Where a toddler can squish and drop grapes by the fistful and it is fine.  Where you can run up and down the rows and still gather 15 pounds of goodness in a short time.

The weather, cool and damp.  Boot weather.

The smell of the grapes, intoxicating, always and forever taking me back in time to my great-grandmother's house where these same grapes grew in her city lot.  I've gotten better at spitting out those pesky seeds since those days as a little girl in her yard.

It was quiet, save for an occasional breeze and exclamations of discovering humantic (Lovey's own word for humongous and gigantic) bunches.  The whisper sighing in soft relief for my having listened.

And me, grateful I did.