The Great Big Summer Slow Down

I can't tell you how much "Gifts From the Sea" by Anne Morrow Lindbergh has spoken to me over these past few days, but maybe by just sharing a piece of it you'll see why. And maybe her words will resonate with you, maybe they won't, but I'll give it a try anyway. She's stirred up some serious thought within me that I hope signifies the beginning of more change. After all, it's inevitable, change, and I've come to see it as very, very good, even if it at first looks otherwise.

For to be a woman is to have interests and duties, raying out in all directions from the central mother-core, like spokes from the hub of a wheel. The pattern of our lives is essentially circular. We must be open to all points of the compass; husband, children, friends, home, community; stretched out, exposed, sensitive like a spider's web to each breeze that blows, to each call that comes. How difficult for us, then, to achieve a balance in the midst of these contradictory tensions, and yet how necessary for the proper functioning of our lives.

~exerpt from "Gifts from the Sea" by Anne Morrow Lindbergh

Balance, peace, playing board games, reading more, watching movies, less knitting, less laundry, fewer dishes, less stuff lying about, more conversations, more sunsets, more laughing, draining tension and worry, more sleep, more writing; these are just some of the things I'm planning. Not necessarily planning on doing but rather on embracing when the opportunity comes my way.

Lost

I've been puposefully absent the past few days, finally giving in to fatigue and forcing myself to slow down, stop my feverish pace and once again pick up a book and read. Since beginning to knit my books have fallen to the wayside, replaced by fiber and needles and determination.

How good it feels to pick up a great book again, get completely lost in its pages and finish it, amazed by its timeless lessons. Such is the case with "Gifts From the Sea" by Anne Morrow Lindbergh (yes, Charles' wife) written in 1955 but so true and relevant to life today that I had to mark nearly every page. Ahem, this looks like a problem....and probably something you'll be hearing more about later.

Summer evenings

It's no secret here that I spend the majority of my life being cold, and that summer is and has always been my favorite time of year. I feel like I can finally expand from within to fill my skin instead of shrinking away from the outside to stay warm. I stretch, I relax, I'm finally comfortable. Ahhhh.

There's a certain magic reserved for long summer evenings, where the sun hangs on as long as it can, the outdoors beckon, the fireflies begin to light and the kids are easily lost in its timelessness.

Last night and quite alot recently, it's been the small hills around the house that have the kids' attention and energy, as they try to see how fast they can fly.

There's usually a healthy dose of mischief too. Hmmm, I wonder what he has on his mind? (Let's see how fast I can make her fly down the hill! At least that's what that look says to me, and as usual, she's oblivious to the plot against her.)

Any way to the bottom is fair game, using various modes of transporation, or really whatever works.


And then the long, steady walk back up. But then, she knows she has all the time in the world. How much I wish I could freeze this moment and hold it forever.

Boat talk

"Some rocks may hit the motor, babe, don't worry, we'll be fine, we're not going to sink or anything."

He's told me this exact same thing every time we go on this part of the river for the past 13 years but each time I pretend as if it's the first time I've heard it.

"Okay," I say, "I'll be ready," secretly enjoying being watched over.

The water is so shallow on this upper part of the river that you have to dodge and dart through the maze of rocks or you will hit a few. It's rather on-golden-pond-esque, minus the hole in the boat, the gash in the forehead and hours spent clinging to a rock. But then you remember the movie.

Upriver we motor on, dodging, talking, seeing fish here and there, someone's camera at the bottom of the river, a beer can. The water is so clear, and quiet and a welcome respite.

We stop, switching to the quiet motor and I start a steady stream of babble, reminding me of our first date, where I talked and talked and he listened and uh-huh-ed his way through the conversation and I knew right then that things would be different with him.

So on I ramble about nothing, and something, this that and the other, the big issues, the little ones, from switching car insurance to dreams, raising kids to knitting, to fishing, and the night passes much more quickly than we'd like.

He does a lot of this:


I do a lot of this:

and the sun makes it's way down toward the water,

leaving us full with it's red-orange glow.

Snapshots

I have this fortune from a Chinese restaurant that sits on my windowsill in the bathroom. I keep it there as a reminder, a directive, a swift kick, a chance to pause and reevaluate my situation. It reads: "He who hurries cannot walk with dignity." Gasp, choke.

Now really, how many moms of three young kids with a husband, a business, a side career, a dog, a cat, 8 chickens, a house under construction, several gardens, acres to mow, etc. etc, doesn't hurry every now and again?

But as the years go by I find the hurrying gets me nowhere but back to the beginning and so flip-flopped all upside-down-like inside that I often embarrass myself as I did last Saturday at the market, talking with an acquaintance (who by the way is the HR director for a big marketing firm in the city where I'm showing my stuff in a couple of days--gasp again). I was so overly fatigued that I wasn't making sense, I sounded like a bit of an idiot, and at times was even having trouble formulating sentences. Oh yes, it was that bad.

So as this blog often serves as a place where I center myself, slow down and find out what's really inside, today again is one of those days, where I invite you to see the stillness of our surroundings and the treats that are everywhere. I bet they exist where you are too. Go take a look.











And thanks for letting me indulge.

Before

I often wonder how we've managed to stuff so many major life changes all into a brief 11 years of marriage, so without me going into details, just take my word for it, we have. From the obvious ones to those behind the scenes, we're miles away from where we started and much better for it.
Here we go again with an addition that was supposed to start today but was delayed due to the solid, steady, soaking rain we've had all day that was forecast as a "passing shower".

Instead of showing you the before pictures and the start of the new construction, I only have the before photo, but it's a good place to start. From the beginning, the bare bones, the house as it was, poised to undergo another major change. Hey, it's part of the family, it may as well join us in our ongoing metamorphosis.

I must give credit where it is due, the first photo is another taken by my 12 year old niece. I'm tellin' you, she's good.

Happy 4th!

We began the holiday celebration last night with a cookout, one great-grandma, two grandparents, one brother-in-law, myself and six kids between us. Kevin had a fishing pass after tearing the front porch off the house, getting ready for the new addition. Come to think of it, we spent last 4th of July tearing another porch off the house because of the little, um, well, skunk problem. Remember?

Anyway, we missed him, but had a great time playing baseball and kickball and I let my nieces age 12 and 10 play around with my camera. These pictures are entirely from them, I wasn't involved at all and the results, I think, are wonderful.

First, of course you have the pink flip-flops and blue toenails.

Followed by a bit of shadow play.











And then the craziness that comes out at the end of the night. I love to see how the subject responds to the photographer.



(note the pink itch medicine on the poison ivy all over her face!)


In all, they took 330 pictures in just a couple of hours. Watching the creative imagination and thrill of the capture made my night. I'm sure to use more in coming posts.

Hope you have a happy holiday weekend!