Friday, April 11, 2014

the evolution of color


Golly the air is nice today.  It was the first walk of the year I didn’t put a hat on the babes. 

I took him out of his buggy near the center of town and he was like hello? who? what is happening???  Now keeping him in his buggy is surely to be a problem but we’ll worry about that later.

We ran in little bursts much like frolicking newborn animals do.  The ground is very squishy with melted snow and our boots were suctioned in with each step.  Other than our rubber boots and the blue sky there wasn’t any color to be found.  There are no buds on the trees or clumps of green grass, it takes mother nature ages to make it up this far north.


Then just when you think she forgot about us, the green appears and it is lovely….so lovely.


Until then you must improvise.  I love how color evolves throughout the year.  Our red front door gives a statement this time of year, but during the fall it hides behind those glorious colored leaves.  In the summer it lets the red potted geraniums on the stoop have some well deserved attention.

Hope you are having a colorful fair weather day, friends!

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

of faults and reassurances

Oh dear dear dear.  It is spring and my thoughts are brimming with projects and ideas.  Just thinking about everything is making me too tired to do anything.  Though I have been pretty good at setting up things…ie going to the store and buying my list of items with such exact extremes it would make your eyes roll.  Then I drive away and my home routines take over.  The same ones I have had for years.  You know, laundry, dinner planning and keeping all these floors clean. 

Also the daily caring of my precious, sweet children.  One is about to go to England, one has a bark cough, one is about to move home from Texas (!!!!), one is working on his license (oh boy, he hit one of our cars with another of our cars in the driveway--even though I was hollering and jumping up and down telling him he was about to hit it). Then there is my wee lad who gets into so much stuff then innocently says “sorry mom”.  Then he gets into more stuff.

Those are some poorly written sentences up there.  You don’t mind, do you?

If you really want to know what my nonfamily thoughts are made of I shall tell you:



keeping healthy

my home


I only have pictures of the last one.  And like my poor grammar the pictures aren’t so great either.

I made a knit maxi dress and really like it.  I tried on dresses in  the store and laughed at my jiggily flat rear end.  I felt the need to customize my very own dress.  Maxi dresses are not made for short people that have grown six children in their body.




This shirt was too easy to make so made a whole bunch of them.  I like the way the fabric drapes (any fabric, too, I’ve tried knit, cottons, and polyester).  It makes me feel like a girl unlike a tee shirt which makes me feel like I should be working in an oil change mart.

Now it is the time of day to pick up the track athletes.  And since I am their mother I shall be the one to do it.


Wednesday, March 19, 2014

in the mornings

On those mornings when everyone is out the door and Sawyer and I are alone with our breakfast, it is quiet.

Lately he shares his thoughts in his two word smiley sentences.  Often I bring a stack of books and read to him as it takes him much longer to eat than I and it feels kind of bad to leave him sitting eating by his lonesome while I run around his high chair cleaning and starting my daily to-do list.

So we read.  Mostly about farm animals. 

My husband and I both grew up on farms and it has taken six children to produce a farmer (maybe? fingers crossed?).  Of course we don’t have a favorite child but certainly getting SUPER excited about horses (HORSEY HORSEY HORSEYYYY) and cows (COOOOOWWWW) earns some points.


This morning I read poems.  He loved the sing songy rhythm of my voice.  Poems are so fun.

They make me think of summer and sunshine and linen aprons and the sandbox and birds dipping against the blue sky.




Someday maybe it will be summer again? Please?


I shall write my own poem about Sawyer:

My littlest boy is a sweet, smiley chap.

He climbs each day for a story on my lap.

He might be spoiled, perhaps just a bit.

But he the youngest and may throw a fit.

So we feed him and hold him

and fill him with love.

Our little Sawyer—a gift from above.

Wednesday, March 12, 2014

write what you know

Blogging has evolved these last couple years, maybe just for me but it seems the general “mood” of it has changed.  Much like the mom and pop stores that used to line every main street slowly disappeared, it seems the same type of blogs are fading away.  The kind of blogs that are a whole lot about nothing.  They have always inspired me by their everyday life.  I like the trade of words and photos… a day of my everyday life for a day of yours.  Though I write often it seems it just hasn’t been on my blog.

This leads me to blog writers block.  I don’t know enough stuff to be an expert on anything.  And it seems that is where most of the blogs I would frequent have headed.  Which is fine, too.  Oh, I am so wishy washy.

I have  lot of kids and I might have some default parenting advice occasionally.  But am I an expert mother? Umm, no.

I cook food everyday, but it is usually not pinterest pretty (trust me).

I can sew but that usually is equal parts seam ripping, so scratch that.

Maybe it falls to perspective.  My thoughts on things seem passionate to me.  This has only been exponentially grown by the last year of my life.  I am grateful for a lot of stuff. 


I love that Sawyer can be so happy at wearing just a hat and a diaper.  (he is just like his father)


I love that last weekend when my husband drove our beloved 16 year old van to the junk yard he might have gotten choked up a bit.  That van has been driven through the mountains of Turkey, through the streets of Paris and back and forth across the States too many times to count. She barely made it to the junk yard but she did it.  We named her Caroline when we bought her after Ma Ingalls as she was such a strong woman.  What? You don’t name your cars????


Is it silly to tell you I am thinking of making another quilt only from my stash but after much deliberation I have decided my stash is no good?  I feel like a moody fashion designer. It just won’t work as I give a disgusted wave of my hand.

So many thoughts and so little time. But always feeling grateful.  Always.

Thursday, February 20, 2014

jazz hands


After many gray days in a row could there be anything lovelier than waking up to these little yellow faces?

The sun is out this morning and with it is the steady first drip drip drip of  our snow covered house.  It has awakened something within me.  When the progress of all those drips starts to show I am certain it will renew all of us.

In the morning I sip my tea out of my new tea cup.  It is almost as lovely as those tiny daffodils.9a

Yesterday was library day and I have a nice stack of books waiting to be read.  Up first is The Yonahlossee Riding Camp for Girls: A Novel.    Library day is a big deal as I go to a library over an hour away—in Concord Ma home of Henry David Thoreau, Louisa May Alcott and Ralph Waldo Emerson—it is my favorite library ever in the history of all libraries), to do this while Sawyer is nap deprived can be a challenge.  Yesterday was good except I lost my phone in the snow and slush covered parking lot (boo) but later the library called the number I have labeled as Home on my phone as someone turned it in and I went and picked it up (yay).

And today?

Well today is just plain old awesome.

I hope you find the awesome in today, too.

Wednesday, February 5, 2014

100 year old lessons


This is the view from my room. 

There is a brook that runs through those trees and it is the most lovely thing to fall asleep with the windows open listening to it.  Almost always before I sleep I think of the olden days as this house and town still hold on to those horse and buggy days.  It isn’t hard to imagine the way it all looked back then. 

This morning I thought of my great-great grandmother.  Her name was Flora Sampson.  She lived to an old age and based on all the pictures and letters I have seen she was very busy on her homestead.  In one letter to her daughter she complained at how idle she had been that day having “only planted 40 hills of beans.”


This is her feeding the hens at her home in Massachusetts.   I wonder what she is feeding them as I am certain she didn’t drive her minivan to the drive thru grain store (seriously I go to a drive through grain store where you pull into their garage and pay through a window as they load it up).  Sometimes I wonder if we had to physically do more in our lives if we would all be a little better off.  Not that I want to have to do more.  You get what I’m saying, right? 

Translation: We should be closer to saying planting 40 hills of beans isn’t a big deal and farther away from watching home garden shows on tv.   But it is so hard!

Tuesday, February 4, 2014

ships at sea

Winter is kind of like a sea voyage.  There are lulls and storms and an occasional rogue wave.

But we get through it.  Every year, the storms and winds come and we sigh and secure the decks.

I don’t necessarily think this is a bad thing.  There is serenity to be found on these quiet winter days.


Spending time spent reading or cooking feel appropriate.  I am actually watching the growth of my bulbs. A tiny bit everyday until their green shoots start to grow faster towards the sun.



The days have routines, mostly me driving busy children and feeding hungry children.

When the day comes to a close and I retire to my cozy room, I listen to the quiet interrupted only by the creaks of this very old house. Almost like that of  the wind blowing against an old ship at sea.