Today is My Birthday

Passing dramatically through the swinging cherry door, I crumpled into a sobbing heap of self pity on the kitchen linoleum.

It was my sixteenth birthday. Nothing magical had happened. No fairy godmother, no car (not that I expected one, my parents could barely afford the one they had), no budding goddess-like figure, and no prince charming. Even worse was the fact that I realized 16 years were gone, forever. And what had I accomplished? Nothing.

It is a possibility that I had slightly high expectations. I may even have been a hormonal teenager.



Yet, every August 3rd, no matter the scenario, I feel a little melancholy. Where has the time gone? What happened to all of my aspirations, what the freak is happening to my body? And, what is it that I have accomplished?






This morning, with the children all lined at the counter with their juice and their oranges, I turned to the cupboard to reach the bowls. Unprompted, Lulu said, "Mom, you are beautiful". Abram concured, "You gorgis mom".

The melancholy subsides for the morning. Raising children that understand the art of flattering an aging woman is somewhat of an awesome accomplishment.

A slice of Eutopia

We just returned from what I would call home. All green, blue and gold. Dappled in shadow and light.




Silent. Miles from suburbia. Cocooned in damp vineyards and scented pines.



Abram has been placed by Homeland Security on the "No Fly List". But that is it's own story.











I've just reentered "life" to begin the most intense but exciting week, so more photos and stories later.

It's time for some due diligence with a grasshopper and weed infestation.

Quiet Wonders

Are you sick of my flowers? Too bad.

I grow where I am planted quite well 10 months of the year. Unfortunately, Canada day seems to usher in a slight ache for home, humidity, trees, and water which acutely grows as the mercury rises.

I tried to "prep myself for success" this summer by allowing for little wonders to be savored and enjoyed (and by Jedi mind tricking myself with mantra's such as "It's not hot", "You are not suffocating". I am so almost brainwashed).

Some quiet wonders to enjoy in my microcosm:





The wind tends to blow a bit in our neck of the woods (such is the cost of living on a gully overlooking a canyon). Brad and the kids make the best of it with Sunday kite flying.







Of course, a few kites lost their way and were found on our roof and the roof of our neighbors, but Brad isn't afraid of heights so all is well.







Norah's silliness, drama, and energy is at an all-time high. I am exasperated by the time I put the other children to nap, which means: it's time to put her to work.



We work side by side to bring our fairy tale garden dreams to fruition (OK, me a little more than Norah, but mind you, Norah has plenty of fairy dreams in the garden). She lugs a purple watering can by her side, splashing and tipping water about on fresh compost and sizzling concrete. Little is left for the intended flowers, but a task is a task and she completes it.



I look on as she spins and leaps, falling and crashing with the intensity of a street car and the grace of a butterfly all at once.

I look forward to our time alone every afternoon. It is still and quiet. The nuances of our relationship and leisure settle on the steps of a silent siesta.

Details and delights swirl and stretch at our fingertips and toes as we slowly weed and sow. Sometimes the sun shines too brightly and we fad amidst our infant blooms. Often, merciful shadows blossom, growing in pearly swirls of smokey cliffs and bluffs. Mystery unfolds. Suddenly the sky splits, and soft encouragement falls.

In these moments we drink in the fragrance of the summer. We grow heady in the bathing of our organic fortress. We marvel at the tiny, translucent praying mantises which climb clumsily on our arms and bleeding hearts.



I am perpetually covered in earth and varying degrees of sun rash; but I am in love.







We enjoyed our annual round-up dinner with the Smiths, wherein we digested gossip, laughter, and the goodness of an 11 year friendship.



I relished a dinner with blogging friends who I have been anxious to meet. Over red curry we shared, giggled and barely noticed we were the last customers at closing. I am grateful to have made such beautiful friends.



And at the end of the day, with the condensation from a lemonade sliding on my fingers, I escape to the porch with Brad and listen in silence to the dusky drama of our back yard.

Simple Summer

I'm hoping for a simplified summer; lived and relished. We have tickets to ride to the Old Mission peninsula, hopes for heaps of vegetables, plans for camping, swimming and bug catching.



I plan on regularly sharing photos of our days, but will add very little commentary (unless of course, I feel like it) because if I feel like I need to and I don't have the time or inclination then I won't post anything.



So here are the photos of what we've been up to:

Singing Heart

I thought I should probably check in.

Even though life is complicated and at times stormy, there are blessings that illuminate and are enjoyed.



Every Friday I take the children to the public library. The trip is greatly anticipated, yet you wouldn't think so by the fight that ensues at the front door when too many hands try to push the automated door opener. This squabble is quickly followed by the argument over who placed the most books in the return slot, which is followed by who gets to carry the book bag, not to be out done by the fight over the drinking fountain stool.

These details are not my point, my point is: Norah picked a book a few weeks ago titled My Mother has a Dancing Heart. Trying to implement more of a dancing heart into our daily routine, I kicked my daily impromptu musicales up by singing Pop Corn Popping on the Apricot Tree Axel Rose style. I was quickly interrupted by Abram's loud objection of "Momma, don't sing". Norah sweetly healed my wounded pride with a "My mother has a singing heart".



With all of my short comings, fumbles and foibles; I will seek a dancing and a singing heart (except of course, when I don't. You understand right?).



The above photo makes my heart dance. Lulu's pants are perpetually on the loose.




Abram split his lip open and required 8 stitches. What? You can't see them? That is probably because we will soon be receiving an extraordinarily high bill from a highly skilled plastic surgeon. Still; this ordeal made my heart perform an off-beat dance while I was at Youth Conference (on the phone with the hospital, my mother, and Brad) performing an amazing race.












We've been fixing up our house a little bit here, a little bit there. The children have tipped over more than one cart at DI, but the treasures are worth it.





Our yard is finally being done and landscaped (by done I mean it will be ready for me to plant and dig and vegetate with the heirloom tomatoes that have been patiently waiting in pots on the porch). In fact, as we I write, the bobcat is squealing along at top speed and my oak floor is blanketed in a layer of top soil and desert floor. But I am so excited to stick my hands in some compost and come away filthily cleansed.



We just returned from Zions where lizards large and small are breathing a sigh of relief.







We've chased butterflies, rain, and the bobcat (hours of entertainment) and have attended spring programs galore.







I'm wishing for a summer that never reaches 90 degrees, thunder storms at least 3 times a week, and one that remains calm; yet filled with dancing and singing.

I'll keep you updated on the dancing and singing. Let me remain in my fantasy about the weather.