CHILDHOOD
10.
Your father was traveling through Cuba when I discovered I was pregnant with you. For days, I let this strange, new idea roll through my mind and out onto my tongue: mother. I am a mother. And for those few
lately
Even in the mud and scum of things, something always, always sings. ― Ralph Waldo Emerson bath-time conversations / hide-and-seek / making and loving these / visit from Nina + Papa / starting our school routine again
spilled milk | sleep
We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams. ― Arthur O’Shaughnessy, Ode We snuggled up in my bed for an afternoon nap last week, a rare (and delightful) occurrence these days. With my eyes
spilled milk | experience
Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul. ― John Muir I often wonder what you all will remember
F O U R!
The other night at dinner, you sat by my side — not necessarily a coveted position these days because you tend to use your neighbor more for a napkin than a conversation partner — but
eight.
Burke, this evening at 10:36 you turned eight. Even now, as I listen to your unrestrained laughter with friends in the other room, I can scarcely believe it. Eight years. Just. Like. That. Most mornings,
three minutes with Blythe
Here’s three minutes with our giggly six-year-old: unscripted, unrehearsed, limited editing. Enjoy!
OUR HOMESCHOOL IN PICTURES
It seems winter went on strike at some point this month, but we didn’t mind. Instead we did what all of you with real winters will do several months from now while we’re profusely sweating