Tuesday, June 20, 2017

The Beginning of Lots of Posts

I started a new little blog post yesterday. Well, . . . one sentence of a new post. I added a period. Pursed my lips and poised my fingers above the keyboard. . . . And then Mette (who had been playing happily outside for a moment) was suddenly at the sliding glass door. She was wailing piteously, and hitting it with her sticky little palms, and smooshing her tear-stained cheeks and forehead against the glass. Summer was only a step behind her (and following a similar course of melodramatic action). (Oh my poor windows: never clean for more than 20 minutes.)

Photo Jun 19, 2 18 32 AM

And my typed sentence? It sat there, crossing its little fingers, full of naïve expectation that it might yet become something more (a paragraph? a story?), and blithely unaware that I'd already left it. Just like I'd left the first sentences of ten other newly-begun blog posts before it.

"I'm sitting in the dark outside of Summer's room eating yogurt (which I keep spilling on my pants because, for some reason, I’m using a baby spoon), and acting as sentry to a little girl who won’t stay in her bed."

"After searching for weeks (with varying degrees of intensity) for an errant little Ziploc bag of bolts, we finally assembled a crib for Hans."

"The other day I found an Idaho Spud (the candy bar) under my bed."

"Mike recently purchased a sturdy little basketball hoop and hung it over the coat-closet door in our entryway."

Poor little lonely sentences. Abandoned possibilities. All of them.

And it’s a shame really because it’s kind of entertaining to hear Abe, when he’s bored and for want of anything better to do, standing at an imaginary free-throw line tossing a little blue ball into the hoop Mike bought while he calls out wildly random predictions, makes decisions for members of the family, and offers outrageous claims – with all their truth hinging on whether or not he makes the shot.

“Mom will lose all her limbs.”

“Mom already has lost all her limbs but she's a cyborg.”

“Mom hasn't lost any limbs but she's still a cyborg.”

“Goldie is made up of a colony of small squirrels who control her.”

“Yes, Jesse, in answer to your question. Penny DOES want to paint outside with you right now.”

Photo May 27, 12 42 58 AM

And Hans and the crib. He had grown to completely fill his little bassinet, so it was high time for a change. But he’d looked so snug and cozy all . . . practically swaddled by his bassinet, and it feels cold and lonesome seeing him in his vast crib . . . a full flight of stairs and loft away from where I sleep. I haven’t moved his bassinet from next to my bed yet. I think I’m partly hoping he’ll decide to return to it.

Photo Jun 15, 8 40 05 AMPhoto Jun 15, 8 40 58 AMPhoto May 25, 10 16 49 AMPhoto May 25, 10 17 00 AMPhoto May 25, 10 17 39 AM

But! Summer-time has been going smashingly. Kids have been learning to swim, and Daisy and Goldie have been mowing our lawn, and Abe got his first job (serving shakes and ice cream at the ice cream store from my childhood [and probably my parents’ childhood too]). We still feel like it’s just begun – like we still have all the time in the world for every summer-time adventure and project we’d ever imagined. And . . . it HAS just begun really. It has! But somehow . . . we are down to only 2/3rds of it left.

Photo Jun 07, 6 55 28 AMPhoto Jun 07, 6 56 34 AMPhoto Jun 07, 7 02 41 AM

In any case. Here are a few pictures from a Memorial Day weekend get-together at the farm.

Photo May 27, 1 00 51 AMPhoto May 27, 1 08 04 AMPhoto May 27, 1 45 25 AMPhoto May 27, 12 26 18 AMPhoto May 27, 12 37 52 AMPhoto May 27, 12 38 27 AMPhoto May 27, 12 38 49 AMPhoto May 27, 12 56 37 AMPhoto May 27, 12 47 23 AMPhoto May 27, 12 46 35 AMPhoto May 27, 12 47 51 AMPhoto May 27, 12 53 56 AMPhoto May 27, 12 59 00 AMPhoto May 28, 4 01 31 AM

And a few pictures of Goldie planting us a little flower garden in our front yard. (We’ve been in a constant battle with the snails ever since in an effort to let her garden grow. They are merciless.)

Photo Jun 01, 3 12 55 AMPhoto Jun 01, 5 29 09 PMPhoto Jun 01, 3 15 06 AMPhoto Jun 01, 3 16 53 AMPhoto Jun 01, 3 18 56 AM

And some rather magical pictures taken during Goldie’s softball game when the cottonwood trees were in rare form.

Photo May 23, 8 42 38 PMPhoto May 23, 9 10 13 PM

When I first pulled up to the park I couldn’t quite make sense of things for a minute. It felt dream-like. I knew logically that it was summer, but it truly looked like winter the ground was so totally covered with white fluff. I was a bit worried about allergies going insane for all of us (Jesse’s eyes and asthma in particular.) But I am a bit nostalgically fond of the cotton. Our neighbor’s had cottonwood trees when I was young, so every June cotton floated about our backyard, and, because we never had AC and often left deck doors open at night, we’d wake to our living room carpeted with the stuff at least once every summer.

Photo Jun 13, 12 57 46 PMPhoto May 23, 5 40 51 AMPhoto May 23, 5 41 54 AMPhoto May 23, 5 52 49 AMPhoto May 23, 5 56 21 AMPhoto May 23, 5 59 17 AMPhoto May 23, 8 40 04 PM

And here are a few other pictures of goings on around here.

Photo Jun 03, 4 28 27 PMPhoto Jun 03, 11 02 40 AMPhoto Jun 05, 11 12 52 PMPhoto Jun 03, 8 48 33 AMPhoto Jun 09, 8 18 49 PMPhoto Jun 09, 8 20 57 PMPhoto Jun 13, 1 10 54 PMPhoto May 21, 5 54 16 AMPhoto May 21, 6 41 49 AMPhoto May 23, 3 19 22 AMPhoto May 29, 1 26 38 AM

The end. (And hopefully writing begets writing and I don’t go another month without posting. Of course no matter how much one post might inspire another, one can never eliminate the possibility of rogue interference . . . babies crying at sliding glass doors and the like. So, we shall see.)

Thursday, May 25, 2017

School’s Out and Hans’ Gifts

Tomorrow school ends for these yahoos.

Photo May 17, 6 28 15 PMPhoto May 14, 1 36 16 PMPhoto May 12, 7 40 07 PMPhoto May 12, 6 22 50 PMPhoto May 12, 8 33 20 PMPhoto May 13, 8 41 36 AMPhoto May 13, 6 38 53 PMPhoto May 19, 4 56 19 PM{"total_effects_actions":0,"total_draw_time":0,"layers_used":0,"effects_tried":0,"total_draw_actions":0,"total_editor_actions":{"border":0,"frame":0,"mask":0,"lensflare":0,"clipart":0,"square_fit":0,"text":0,"shape_mask":0,"callout":0},"effects_applied":0,"uid":"57B85D2C-D9D3-4A8B-92FD-65AD49E24CAD_1495233541415","width":2112,"photos_added":0,"total_effects_time":0,"tools_used":{"tilt_shift":0,"resize":0,"adjust":0,"curves":0,"motion":0,"perspective":0,"clone":1,"crop":0,"flip_rotate":0,"selection":0,"enhance":0,"free_crop":0,"shape_crop":0,"stretch":0},"origin":"gallery","height":2112,"subsource":"done_button","total_editor_time":0,"brushes_used":0}

Did I just say “yahoos”? Huh. I’ve never said that before. And some of the kids pictured above haven’t even been in school to begin with.

Photo May 12, 8 26 04 PMPhoto May 12, 8 34 34 PMPhoto May 13, 8 40 46 AM{"total_effects_actions":0,"total_draw_time":0,"layers_used":0,"effects_tried":0,"total_draw_actions":0,"total_editor_actions":{"border":0,"frame":0,"mask":0,"lensflare":0,"clipart":0,"text":0,"square_fit":0,"shape_mask":0,"callout":0},"effects_applied":0,"uid":"57B85D2C-D9D3-4A8B-92FD-65AD49E24CAD_1494887978922","width":2210,"photos_added":0,"total_effects_time":0,"tools_used":{"tilt_shift":0,"resize":0,"adjust":0,"curves":0,"motion":0,"perspective":0,"clone":2,"crop":0,"enhance":0,"selection":0,"free_crop":0,"flip_rotate":0,"shape_crop":0,"stretch":0},"origin":"gallery","height":2210,"subsource":"done_button","total_editor_time":304,"brushes_used":0}Photo May 19, 3 45 55 PM

Nevertheless, school is in fact ending. And that means . . . well . . . whatever it means. We will just wait and see I suppose. Every year at the end of May and again at the end of August we get wrenched right out of our routines and our “accustomed to”s and must feel our way into a new familiar.

Photo May 19, 9 02 01 AMPhoto May 19, 9 01 27 AMPhoto May 19, 9 01 52 AM

In the meantime I’m going to post these pictures of Hans’ gifts.

Photo Apr 05, 9 10 22 AMPhoto Apr 05, 9 10 34 AMPhoto Apr 05, 9 13 07 AMPhoto Apr 05, 9 13 55 AMPhoto Mar 31, 4 18 13 AM

I kept putting off sharing them here because I wanted to write my feelings about them in just the right way, but since I’m rarely finding time to write anything at all (even in the WRONG way), I will just add them here and say that lately it occurs to me that occasionally (or maybe always) the beautiful things people create extend beyond the talent of the craft to something more like . . . inward spiritual gifts and wisdom finding an expression in a physical object. I don’t know if that makes sense, but I’ve been wondering about it lately and finding bits of certainty and truth in the idea as it slowly expands to make sense to me. Sometimes I think the beauty, light, and understanding in people can’t simply be contained in thoughts and words and expressions and acts. It needs to manifest itself in a tangible beauty as well. Which is partly why I think things can be incredibly significant, and why I can feel so emotional about the stories and insights tied to these two gifts.

(And of course I needed a picture of all four of my “Jill quilts” once Hansie got his.)

Photo Apr 26, 8 50 29 PMPhoto Apr 26, 8 47 53 PM (1)Photo Apr 26, 8 50 35 PM

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