Things I Love...

So, I'm not a big fan of favorites- much to my husband's consternation, who just can't get that for me, throwing around the word favorite willy nilly is both reckless and, oh I don't know...binding? Favorites is one thing, but things I love? Well, that's much easier. I love the way rain smells on dry dusty asphalt after a warm dry spell. I love the way my baby's warm squishy body cradles my shoulder when I am rocking her to sleep, her sweet baby fragrance circling the air between us. I love listening to the Violent Femmes while driving with the windows down in my car on a warm still-spring, not-quite-summer afternoon with the wind blowing my hair and the sun tickling my cheeks. I love smelling my big girls' stinky feet when I sneak in to give them one last kiss before I go to sleep- a remnant of their baby hoods, which seem to be slipping through my fingers as if I were trying to hold the wind. I love old movies on cold, blustery days. I love dusty old antique stores that have rows and rows of dusty old trinkets from days gone by. And, speaking of dusty old, I love, love, love, the smell of old worn books, and the crispness of their yellowed pages that haven't seen the light of day in who knows how long. Yes, I could go on an on about the things I love... just don't ask me to choose my favorite.

Life in My Backyard...

From as far back as I can remember I have always wanted to be a mother. I yearned for a house full of laughing, loving, living, but one that was clean and organized as well. Now that I am a mother- to three beautiful daughters- I am realizing that what I once thought motherhood to look like is not what it is. Where I once imagined control and peace and order is now filled with singing, twirling, toys scattered behind, and the forever "mess" of fresh art being created where ever the whim springs. I love the spring and summer because the art pours outside as well. I have to admit that had this been my first child, I would have rushed to keep those strippy leggings clean while the art was being made. But I have learned (ok, AM learning) that life is messy. Art is all around, and that is where we find the unexpected. Unexpected beauty. Unexpected joy. Unexpected life. As I took this picture, my older girls were chasing bubbles floating past, and my little one, drawn to the happiness of color, made her way to the chalk. She picked up the chalk and became part of the art evolving in my backyard each day. I love it. I grabbed my camera, totally let go of the dishes undone in the kitchen and the toys spilled out on the carpet, and took up my seat to witness life. My life. The kind of life I always never knew I wanted. My messy, loud, colorful life. I wouldn't trade these girls in this life for one perfectly organized minute.

Gardening...

Someone asked me the other day if I liked to garden. I stood there for a moment trying to formulate an answer that did justice to both my desire to have a beautifully manicured garden and the futility of said endeavor given the presence of my three girls, and my eyes scanned my backyard, noting each good intended beginning I had made to plant sweet smelling, brightly hued loveliness; to bring the wilderness outside my back door into submission. There, amidst the dainty white blossoms and in the shadow of the birch trees, were my sweet smelling, brightly hued girls, who had ripped out flowers and weeds alike as they proceeded to create a rock school- not as in guitars riffs and drum beats, but as in actual rocks. As we both stood there looking at their progress, all I could say was, "Yes. I grow imagination."