A Picture is Worth…

I’m rarely in front of a camera, but I’m pretty sure if someone were to take my photo today, I’d look exactly like this.

Only with more wrinkles and less hair.

There’s been little action on the blog lately because I’ve been going through a verbal dry spell.

While (as Matt will attest) I am still perfectly capable of talking about nothing for hours on end, the truth is, I don’t want to.

I want to talk about the important things, the life and death things, the soul-crushing, faith-buoying things.

But I can’t get the words out.

Huge amounts of words and thoughts and prayers in my head + nothing making sense when spoken or written =

Thanks for bearing with me.

The Birds

Beyond the flowers, we’re also finding that our house is home to quite a few varieties of birds. I think the devil bamboo (more on that later) attracts them.

While I think hearing them all sing at once is beautiful, Abby’s easily annoyed by it and can regularly be heard screaming, “Stop it birds. That’s enough! Ughhhh…. they’re so loud!”

Here are a few I managed to snap a shot of:

(This isn’t a great photo, but please tell me you can see the size of the bird in the trees.)

The Giving House

One good thing about buying a house in early winter is that each new season brings its own surprises. Something seems to be springing up weekly around here.

The dilemma lies in trying to decide whether or not to till and mulch certain flower beds or wait a little longer to see if more blooms wake from winter.

Homegrown Classics

I stumbled upon this scene in my backyard.

Doesn’t it remind you of something?

What is it… what is it…

Yep. That’s it.

You can see she started feeling a little unsure about reinterpreting such a classic.

Thinking better of it, she quickly transformed from a grumpy old man into a silly little girl.

And all was right with the world.

My Own Garden Fairy

The past week was wonderful for a myriad of reasons, but mostly because it was spent with her.

A lover of flowers and dirt and trees and squirrels (but not of birds) she is completely in her element when she’s outdoors.

You Can Take The Girl Out of The Country…

I may not have married a farm boy, but he’s pretty good at faking it.

Very Footloose, Let’s Hear It For The Boy, don’t you think?

Ten years after we met and he still makes my heart flutter.

Stirring Up

Today the memories of my grandfather are so strong, he’s almost tangible.

They descended swiftly and violently and I was left breathless.

We are gardening this week and I think spending the days outdoors in the dirt and the sun acted as a trigger.

This morning as we sat around the kitchen table eating breakfast and planning the day, I thought of him stirring his coffee cup and looking out at his fields.

As I watched Matt raking the weeds in a cowboy hat and boots, I remembered Granddad giving me his blessing on my choice of husband.

Seeing Abby delight in digging for worms and planting seeds, I couldn’t help but think of how much she is like my grandfather and how much he would have adored her.

I can’t do it justice. The vast amount of remembrance that has assaulted me today. It’s as though all of my life with him was hidden in the earth, and each raking of the surface causes a memory to rise alongside the dark soil.

Riding with the truck windows down, stopping to eat a hamburger at a picnic table, the card games, the laughter, his hands, that thick, thick hair of his, the fishing and hunting trips, the nicknames, the hearing aids that whistled at pretty girls, the barbeque and root beer floats, the stories of simpler times, the cookie stash, the dancing, the music that he made on the organ, the bagpipes and the record player.

There are times when I have this overwhelming desire to create something for Abby. Some piece of myself that will remind her of me when she’s old and I’m gone. But then I have days like today when the simple act of tilling the land makes me relive a hundred memories of my grandfather. And I realize, I don’t need to make her a memory box.

I simply need to do what Granddad did: I need to live my life and let her live hers alongside of me. I need to let her watch me do the same thing over and over and let her help me with the simple chores and talk to her and be silent with her. And then one day when she’s grown and going about her daily life, she won’t have to go looking for me- I’ll already be there.

Here We Go Again

I am incredibly thankful for this beautiful weather and the next week of vacation.

But I am not grateful for the time change happening tonight.

I mentioned my unhappiness (and my small act of defiance) last year, and I still feel the same about it.

I’d be creative and write a whole new post but I’m about to lose a precious hour of my weekend… so you can read the old post here: Time Change Ridiculousness

Beautifully Pitiful

Abby received a digital camera for Christmas.

She has barely set it down. She is her mother’s daughter.

As I was reviewing some of her shots, I came across this one.

It’s a self-portrait.

Why was she crying? Who knows.

But I love that she captured it on film.

Does admitting that knock me out of the running for mom of the year?

Wanted: Health and Spring Break

There’s a reason for the blog silence.

We are sick.

And tired.

And overworked.

The little one is currently healing from a sinus infection that has raged for a week and a half.

I am currently in the throes of what the doctor called “a horrible cold virus that lasts much longer than the usual virus.”

My husband is currently trying to avoid touching, being, or breathing in the same 1,000+ square feet as the rest of his family.

Given that he is the worst of us when ill, I’m supporting his decision to stay away. And praying he doesn’t catch one of our germs from a distance.

Once I finish grading the many, many papers that are my job, and I stop coughing like that lady who sits in front of the slot machine for 23 straight hours, it should be Friday.

Friday means the start of Spring Break.

And the start of Spring Break means happiness.