Welcoming Summer (Thank You, Tortoise)

Papa turned 37 last week, and his birthday wish remained the same as it has for years: a long weekend surrounded by beauty and family on his grandmother's South Georgia land. Each morning, we would wake, stretch, breathe, and explore. The morning glories marked our way through trees and trails, opening brilliantly toward the sun. It seems I'm not the only one that is thankful beyond belief that summer is here, and with it, God willing, a slower pace. The simple act of opening up and reaching toward the sun creates such beauty and stillness. We are truly given everything we need.

On our first morning ride, we found a nice big patch of wild blackberries, and breakfasted there for quite a while. We revisited the patch every day. We are truly given everything we need.

So much beauty and bounty, ripe for the picking. The same was true in Grandma's garden. Peaches from the tree, squash from the vine. We are truly given everything we need.

Big B, little b, and their Georgia cousins celebrated the summer sun by collecting objects of beauty and creating Solar Prints. They all marveled at the speed with which the sun created the shadows, the shapes of the leaves, and what happened when the paper met the water. We are truly given everything we need.

With summer comes water, and the boys (including Papa) drank their fill. Every day held fishing of some kind, whether by boat or on shore. And when the sun became a bit too overbearing, the water welcomed them in. We are truly given everything we need.

Over the last few years, I have become a believer--or rather a conscientious observer--of animal spirit guidance. When animals cross my path repeatedly, all I have to do is pay attention and listen, and their meanings bring me clarity. During this trip, we must have seen a dozen tortoises, mostly gopher, on our rides. Sure, the heat of summer brings them out, but we've been there every Memorial Day for the last few years, and I have never seen more than two or three. The tortoise's message was crystal clear to me, as we release the fast pace of school schedules and bedtime routines and open our arms to easy summer days: Slow down. Look upward to the sun. We are truly given everything we need.

A-Frame Tent, A-Plus Day

Funny, funny universe.

On a weekend laden with best-laid plans, Big B came down with a nasty tummy bug that knocked him out all day Saturday. This morning he woke, bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready to make up for lost time. I knew we were going to stay close to home to allow him a day of recovery, and me a day to finish several organizational projects started during his sickness--but he and little b needed some adventure.

During my morning coffee blogroll, I saw Cakie's A-Frame Tent featured in Grosgrain's Free Pattern Month, and fell in love. I made a quick list for the hardware store and sent the boys on a quest so that I could finish up some chores.

When they returned, we got to work drilling, fitting, hemming and attaching. In less than one hour they had their adventure.

Simple though it might be, there was something special about it being made just for them. It was also a powerful lesson for me: they may not enter it properly or treat it gently--but I did, after all, make it just for them. It is theirs to invent, collapse, rebuild, enter, and love as they wish.

I am sensing a major shift in the tides. Perhaps it is the excitement of summer on the horizon. Perhaps it is this new clarity with which I choose my activities and things. But I am seeing a beautiful light ahead.

Simple Gifts

I have taken a longer break from this space than I had intended. A lack of camera and plate-too-full have made excuses easy, and I have seen the repercussions. This space is much more to me than an exhibitionist outlet or a pretty chronicle: it keeps me accountable to my own laws of nature. In my time away from it, I have seen its true value. And it is good to be back.

Recently, Mama Bird recommended a small, neatly packaged, seemingly innocent book. As I read (read: devour) its pages, nothing independently groundbreaking leaps up from them. But somehow, the path therein seems brilliantly and easily illuminated.

Organized Simplicity is more than a book to me now, it seems to be my mantra. Through the simple, grounding task of revisiting our family's purpose, I have been given a monumental gift. I now have a clear and ever-present filter for my words, actions, deeds, time obligations, and things. If any of the above do not fulfill the highest good of my family's purpose, they are OUT. And it is maybe the most refreshing feeling I've ever had.

I've even been able to use the filter for the book itself. Where the author is able to implement the system in 10 days, I am granting myself a generous six months, thereby removing all pressure and really making it enjoyable. The same principles and priorities are being applied to my body, my health, my parenting, my marriage--and for the first time in a long time, I feel there just might be time enough in my day to thoroughly savor all of these rich blessings on my plate.

It feels nice to be back here. All of these images were taken in my very own front yard. All around me, things feel clean, fresh, and washed brand new.

New Traditions: Alabama Snow

Every year, we trek north to visit Paw Paw, Nanny, Aunt A and the horses. And every year, we miss The Snow. Without fail, it escapes us by several days. Until this past weekend, Big B and little b had never experienced snow. I have been shown photographs of Aunt S and me in the snow as little ones, but do not remember it in my mind's photo album. So when we arrived in northern Alabama at sunrise Saturday morning and saw a winter wonderland, the magic infused us--instantly.

We spent the first morning of our visit out in Paw Paw's backyard, feeling the snow, throwing it, building with it, crunching in it. Exploring it. Experiencing it. Loving it.

Paw Paw and Nanny live next to a very old family cemetery. Respectfully we explored the hallowed grounds, reflecting on death, birth, and rebirth, these stone markers of life covered in white blankets and then peeking out again. Very powerful.

I am so thankful that we all were there together to experience this cleansing. It felt good just to play, to run, to look, to feel cold, and to come inside afterward and have a warm bubble bath and a hot bowl of Paw Paw's chili.

I think we'll try to time our visits more according to the weather than the calendar, from now on. This was too good to miss again.

“There is nothing in the world more beautiful than the forest clothed to its very hollows in snow.

It is the still ecstasy of nature, wherein every spray,

every blade of grass, every spire of reed,

every intricacy of twig, is clad with radiance.”

-William Sharp

Beeswax Solstice Candles

Inspired by the beeswax endeavors of Rose and Mama Bird, Big B, little b and I decided to make candles for our family for Christmas this year. We got a gorgeous hunk of sweet smelling wax and wicks from The Night Gardener, scored some little teacups from a thrift store, and set to work on the candles on the Winter Solstice.

Watching the wax melt was strangely gratifying, for all of us.

Big B and little b took turns dipping the wicks into the hot wax and watching them quickly dry.

We then centered the wicks into little metal holders, wrapped the tops around pencils to keep them centered, and poured in the wax.

When we had made enough for our family, we used the rest of the wax to create a special Solstice candle. Big B and little b poured in "snow" and pine and fir needles to capture winter in the wax.

We lit the candle every night from Solstice to Christmas, and said "Happy Birthday Sun!" The kids also reenacted the battle of the Oak King and the Holly King, their favorite Solstice story.

Solstice is a special time in our home, the time we remember a sweet baby joining us beneath the Christmas tree, three years ago. Happy BIRTH day, little b.