Summer Night Wonder

You take perfect when you can get it,

and I caught it and held on tight tonight.

We went for a walk at dusk.

The western sky was gorgeous: pink and golden and dappled, and there was a breeze.

My oldest son has been loving on me lately, and tonight he grabbed my hand when we started to walk and he didn't let go.

I looked at Claire's cute outfit and watched her cute little bum as she walked in typical determined fashion in front of us.

Mia wore the shirt she made recently and sparkly shoes.

The boys were barefoot.

We were sharing some of our favorite memories, and we ran through a whole stretch of sprinklers a few blocks from our house.

(See the sprinkles of water on my shirt and Claire's?)

And then.

We walked a half mile to the river and the boys were commenting on how much lower the water is compared to in the spring. 

All of us walked over to see, and Isaiah and I saw it at the same time.

A beaver!

We've lived 5 blocks from the river for almost 8 years, and I honestly couldn't tell you how many times we've walked this exact stretch of road. 

But we've never seen a beaver before!

We watched him paddle around in the water and Claire, upon seeing him, exclaimed, 

"Oh my gosh, he's gigantic!" 

He settled in on the opposite bank with a stick. And even over the water we could hear him chewing it as we watched him, facing us, holding it in his hands, nibbling away. 

We stood there for a long time 

in complete wonder, admiring.

(Curses! that I couldn't get a good shot of him.)

And then, we walked home, resolving to drop in at his house tomorrow for another look. 

Claire requested we hit the sprinklers another time and we did.

The sky was stunning, and my son grabbed my hand again and held it all the way home.

Summer, I am loving you.

Brown

Yesterday, when I walked into the house after church, I thought of a favorite book from childhood called Hailstones and Halibut Bones: Adventures in Color, poetically going through every color and what one might associate with it.

I thought about brown.

"Brown is the color of a country road

Back of a turtle

Back of a toad.

Brown is cinnamon

And morning toast

And the good smell of

the Sunday roast.

Brown is the color of work

And the sound of a river,

Brown is bronze and a bow

And a quiver.

Brown is the house 

On the edge of town

Where wind is tearing

The shingles down.

Brown is a freckle

Brown is a mole

Brown is the earth

When you dig a hole.

Brown is the hair 

On many a head

Brown is chocolate

And gingerbread.

Brown is a feeling

You get inside

When wondering makes 

Your mind grow wide.

Brown is a leather shoe

And a good glove---

Brown is as comfortable

As love."

As I came in the back door, the air was rich with the smell of roast and onions that I'd thrown in the crockpot earlier that morning.

We read on the couch in the afternoon, the boys put together a gingerbread house and Christmas tree, sets they'd gotten as gifts last December (yes, I know), while the girls watched and I peeled potatoes and we had an old conference talk by President Monson going in the background about gratitude (something I mentally took note of to come back to with the children in November when we make our gratitude tree).  

I've always loved light streaming in through windows.  

It's something I frequently notice, a free gift of love I feel every single day.

Later on, we ate that roast for dinner, with mashed potatoes and scratch gravy and a salad and carrots and beets and onions.

We took a walk in the neighborhood, 

came home and read together in my room, and then I was up late visiting with friends, cleaning up my kitchen, making pumpkin spice muffins for the kiddos for breakfast.

Brown is something else at my house, too.  

She's taken residence on my mantle, with her sister colors of 

copper, rust, gold and amber. 

I like having sentinel owls in the living room, nuts and ginko leaves and gourds, symbolic of harvest and color, and the little glass pumpkin my dad brought me from Cape Cod several years ago.

Wishing you all a lovely Labor Day, folks.

xoxo

Sunday Evening Stroll

Sunday afternoon the sunshine was intoxicating.

It's like late April in February right now.
The weather has been so odd.

But. I couldn't help but be cheered by the sun when we got home from church.

This man and I peeled potatoes and chopped them, 

put them in the pot on the stove to boil.

I made brownies and mint frosting.

We headed to dinner at some friends' house.

We got home in enough time to to stroll once around our neighborhood,

arriving home just as it was getting dark and there was a nip of chill in the air.

As we made our way up and down our streets, past familiar houses,

the older kids were scootering and Claire was in the stroller.

I watched my boys cruising ahead, playing together, ditching the scooters,

jumping back on, this dude sporting a pirate patch and dangly necklace

hanging down the back of his head.

(So awesome.)

Made me wistful and happy.

Oh! to be 8 again.

When I'm smart enough to slow down and try to observe through their lens --- even briefly --- I see much more tender hearts than I stop to think about most of the time, imagination, joy, quick forgiveness, hope and courage, 

reservoirs of feeling, faith, simple amusement.

Yes, to be 8 again.

Evening Walking

Easter Sunday Evening Walk

20 April

began with this:

"Mom, look up!  

Do you see that feather in the sky?"

 Blossoms

 Evening light

The gentle sweetness of a wee one

 Flowered flip flops with chipped toenail paint from playing

 Flower gathering

 A feathered friend who stopped me with his pecking.  I stopped and watched him quite a while.

"I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly."

(John 10:10)

Gratitude in this heart for life, for people I love,

for forgiveness, for hope.

For the reality that, because of Christ, life offers me new starts again and again.

A History of Strolling

Yesterday as I headed out to the stroller with my phone, keys, jacket for Benji, water bottle, and three bags of popcorn for their snacking pleasure, I grabbed my camera, too.  

I couldn't help but think about how this has been such a part of me and them.

I wish I had a log of all the many miles I've done using a stroller.

One day, the children will hear how a significant chunk of their baby/toddler years was spent as we walked and ran, getting fresh air, admiring beauty, slowing the day down.

Honestly.  

I can't even begin to guess.

Last night I looked through photos, just to prove it.

And there are many not pictured here, too.

I can see these little people growing up, right in front of my eyes, mile after mile after mile.

Pumpkin Picking and Invitation Making

On Saturday night, we went to pick our pumpkins.
We came home and ate Tillamook's Udderly Chocolate ice cream -- some chose it with rootbeer on top for a float, others of us drizzled ours with chocolate and caramel sauce.

Yesterday after church I had apple butter cooking on the stove all day.
We made invitations for our family trick-or-treat party on Halloween.
It was really fun.Foam stickers.
Markers.
Putting them in envelopes.
Today we're biking down to the post office to mail them.

And I just have to highlight one of my all-time loves of fall that I thought about again on our afternoon walk yesterday post invitation-making.
This.
I glory in these always.
Bright, brilliant, blazing yellow.
A wish of mine?
One day, if we ever own a chunk of property, I'd plant a whole line of them all down the property line just so that I could see this glorious light, every year, for a few weeks.