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!

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!

weekending {or falling in love}

Mary Poppins is in my head because I keep thinking practically perfect in every way.  I can't get it out of my head, sort of like when you are falling in love and can't stop thinking about the person.  Well that was a recent weekend of mine, practically perfect.  And if you follow me on Twitter (@bcomingclaudine) you likely realize that I have fallen in love with The Flea.

I spent the Saturday of that practically perfect weekend with one of my dearest friends wandering that cool, urban market.  The sun was shining, live music wafted on the warm breeze, at every turn there was something interesting, or cool, or quirky, or simply lovely to discover.

We browsed vintage clothing, handmade jewelry, delightful decor, interesting books.

The food stations and trucks were offering local, homemade, fresh.  How can you decide between mini fresh-made donuts and creamery ice cream?  Hint: you can't, you try both.

That delightful blue typewriter had a SOLD tag early in the day.  Had some lucky buyer not been there first, it would have come home with  me for a mere $45.

I did find a couple treasures.  This delightful re-purposed spoon that has been stamped.  I love how it reminds me to "bloom where you are planted."  And the vintage sorting toy.  The wood pieces are long gone, but I loved the sweet cards on the side.  I may use it for art supplies, but for now, it is part of my spring display that includes a print from the lovely Phoebe Wahl.

Perhaps the best treasure was carving a day out for myself, with a "Wonder" woman (did you notice her jacket) who knows me, affirms me, and makes stories and laughter come so easily.  Made sweeter by The Flea.

Falling in love, indeed. 

weekending {a wee bit late}

I know, I know, it is Thursday night. Well past the weekend, and on the eve of the next.  But some weekends beg to be shared, no matter how many days later.

Last weekend was one of those weekends.  Days filled to overflowing with goodness and loveliness and emotion that reminds us what it means to care deeply and feel connected to others.

As has happened during a handful of moments since our move, a feeling takes hold.  Like a breath, a rustle, a warmth that makes this new house feel more like our home, not the place that is still filled with boxes and large splotches of sample paints on the walls (ahem.)  That feeling of home came to me strongly Friday evening as I spent my first real spell at the sewing machine.  I could see the boys playing outside, the smell of Honey's homemade pizza came from the kitchen where Lovey was dancing along to the Friday-evening music.  And I felt it.  Home.  In a way not yet felt here, knowing that home is a feeling gathered over time and intricately layered upon our lives, sometimes so quietly we are unaware.

This time I was aware.  Feeling it deep in my gut, rising, threatening tears.  I stood watching my daughter dance.  And marveled.  Marveled.  Marveled.

Saturday brought more marveling, and humbled amazement of people.  Their courage, bravery, moxy.  Characteristics I value and hope to possess.

My oldest sister Michele began running two years ago at the age of 45.  And on Saturday, at the age of 47, ran her first marathon.  In the face of recent knee pain, and the discovery of being seriously iron deficient, and with her final weeks of training being not quite what she had hoped because of these.  She ran a marathon.  26.2 miles.

I waited for her near mile 21, and as I saw her round the bend in the distance, I ran toward her.   I hadn't planned to, but something inside was compelled to go toward her, her courage, her bravery, her moxy.  I ran toward her, yelling and clapping and cheering her on.  Her slow and steady, not pain-free, pace.

I even ran along side her for a short distance, giving what felt like meager little support compared to her amazing strength.  She had just come up a very long steep hill, and was smiling despite the discomfort.  Smiling!

For the next several miles two of her daughters ran portions with her.  And my sister Danielle -- who had earlier run the half-marathon -- met up with Michele and ran the last two miles with her.  Ran what would be the most grueling two miles of the day, but she did it to help her big sister reach the finish line.

Look at these beautiful women.  Smiling after 26.2 and 13.1 15.1 miles!

I spent my childhood looking up to my big sisters.  How lucky I am, at 42, to still be looking up to them.  Amazing, beautiful women.

And then there is this.

Sunday, Sunday!

It was spent with the dearest of friends, Jennifer, Gina, and Annie, whose talents and passions and ideas and energy are making gladsome 2013 into a weekend that will be simply amazing.  A. MAZ. ING.

We spent (mostly uninterrupted) time together planning and preparing, and some good 'ol scheming too.  There was laughter, lots of laughter.  From us, and from the gathering of just some of our collective kids.

Being together was a balm.  A familiar warmth.  A heaping of nourishment. An overflowing of gratitude.  A gentle reminder of the ways our connectedness makes this life wonderful.

As was the weekend.

closer to home

It isn't always the unpacking of boxes, painting of walls, or hanging of artwork that makes your house feel more like your home.

Sometimes it is having just the right person come by and stay for awhile that makes it feel that way.

quite something

We've been making friends with the lovely Annie and Jim and their boys.  It is quite something when a chance blog comment leads to a link on another's blog and leads to you and subsequent emails and eventually blogging life intersects with real life.

Quite something, and oh so good. 

Recently we got to travel to their homestead.  Before we even finished the tour of their historic farmhouse the kids were fast friends and off playing.  So the grown-ups got to be grown-ups for a bit.  They shared about their journey into homesteading and parenting.  We shared about life with four children and our dreams of some more space in the future.

We shared a meal.

We enjoyed the warmth of their wood-burning stove.

We met and fed their chickens.  (I pointed out to Honey all of the great and easy aspects of keeping chickens.  In fairness, he made sure I saw inside the coop, that eventually gets cleaned.)  We both were happy.

We learned about their bees, and their plans for their homestead.

We ventured into the woods.  The kids raced and climbed.  The grown ups walked and talked.

We witnessed their gentle parenting and comfortable home.  Annie's talents are seen everywhere in the handmades she sews for beauty and everyday use.  Quilts, washcloths, delightful cloth napkins.  Jim's hard work is felt in the stacks of wood, gathered and cut and awaiting the wood stove.  The fresh eggs, the whimsical wooden coat hooks made from sturdy branches.

How lucky we are to get to this quite something, and now are making dear friends.

ushering

Each year we usher in the New Year quietly.  We like it that way.

Right now, snow is falling.  The big kids are outside building a fort, warm in their boots.

The rich delicious smell of a roast fills the house.

A dear friend, basically the seventh member of our family, has come by with her knitting.

Lovey is snuggled up, watching Charlie Brown Christmas.

Pal is asleep in his car seat.

Quiet.  Good.

I am thinking about all that has been 2012.  All of the growth, change, discovery.  Pal joining the fun.

We have a movie planned for later, letting the kids stay up past their bedtime.  Buttery popcorn and once-yearly French onion dip.

New Year's kisses, and a good night's sleep.

Yes, quiet, and quite quite good.

Wishing you all a peaceful end of 2012 and beginning of 2013.

from france with love

We love getting packages at our house.  There is much excitement to see what treasures those boxes might contain.  And this time of year the packages seem extra special because the contents are often for the kids.

I know some people probably save the packages and open them on Christmas morning, but not us.  The anticipation is too too great, and it is really so much more fun to spread the joy and gratitude over many days and fully enjoy the gifts when they arrive.  So as soon as a package arrives at our house we open it and enjoy all of the surprises inside.

That is exactly what we did last week when we received a package.  From France.

We have friends living there for a year, and they gifted us with amazing scarves from their travels.  A scarf for each member of the family, and an extra gift for me, a sumptuous leather journal with a pen engraved "Claudine," as could only be found in France. 

These same scarves are now featured in the blog header, and you will see more of them later this week on our Christmas card.  Truly, aren't they fantastic?

We got a chance to thank them "in person," thanks to Skype.


And the best part is that every time I select a scarf to put on, or the kids do, I am reminded of our friendship over the years, and over the miles.

So thanks for the love from France.  Love ya right back!

rite of passage

It's official.  I'm 40.

And it feels just fine.  I think the fact that I've been celebrating for weeks now just might have something to do with that, I always like a good celebration.

This past weekend was the culmination of this birthday season, and I shared it with some girlfriends of mine.  I invited them to gather to celebrate this milestone birthday of mine and enjoy our friendship.  Some of the women I've known for years, some for just a few  Some I see often, others just a couple times a year.  All of them are special to me and help me to know the best of myself as well.

It was wonderful.  We talked. We hugged. We ate.  We reconnected.

I was serenaded Happy Birthday with an Auto Harp.  Really, what fun.

Honey cooked all day, and created amazing appetizers and six gourmet pizzas and three desserts from scratch to knock your socks off.  Regrettably I have no pictures of this feast, but boy so yummy!

I wanted to do something extra-special that marked this rite of passage, so I invited a henna artist to come.

Everyone chose different, meaningful designs.

Me?  My design represents change and growth.

There is lots of change and growth going on here these days.  That is why this blog of mine has been a bit quiet, ahem.

I am anxious to soon share details.

tending

It is not often that I get to have five (5!) uninterrupted hours for anything.  Sleep included, ahem.

Yet this weekend, I had the beautiful gift of five uninterrupted hours for tending my soul.

The kind of tending that can only come with hours upon hours to put up your feet and share a meal, a brownie and a very long lingering cup of coffee with a friend who knows you well.

The kind of tending that can only come with telling story after story, sharing idea after idea, divulging dream after dream, and the graceful back and forth of conversation that is enjoyed by two people who truly care for one another, trust one another, and recognize the good the other brings to your own understanding of yourself.

The kind of tending, that once done, makes you feel as if your inner landscape is ready for growth.  The seeds are planted, the weeds removed, the gardener -- with a good dose of insight -- rested.

And we talked a great deal about growth.  That of our children, of our marriages, of our careers.  But mostly the growth of our understanding of ourselves.

So, it was lovely.  Lovely indeed.  The kind of lovely that makes you feel fully yourself again.

So, Hi, I'm Claudine.  I am myself again.  You have this dear friend of mine to thank for it.