the Christmas list

"Why don't Moms and Dads make Christmas lists? I really think you should make one, mommy. What do you want for Christmas? You really need a list."

"I don't really think I need anything more," I said, "I have so much already, don't you think?"

And it was then that I felt old, or maybe not so much old as content, calm, happy. As with each Christmas that passes, this one is turning out to be more about the giving not only of gifts but of time, effort, attention, warmth, pleasantness, as these are gifts I give also to myself.

I focus also on expressing thanks, still, even though the one time a year we set aside for that has passed. Sharing the gift of gratitude, not for things, but for the intangibles in ones life, for love, friendship, peace, understanding and patience. For safety, faith, forgiveness and wisdom, as these are the things for which I'm most grateful, the things that make me laugh, or cry, and feel full. My acknowledgement and ability to pass them on is my act of thanks, the outward sign that I understand my place here, what my time is for and the worth of my life.

Yet there is longing still when I stop to think about it, for time more than anything else. Time outdoors, time with the changes of the day, time with camera in hand, the sun on my face and the stillness to hear, feel, wonder and know. Time for pictures like the one above, an unexpected shot for a beach vacation, but memorable, maybe even moreso than the beach itself.

Slow

Finally a slow morning. A full weekend with just a few plans, rather than one packed full with running and going and doing. A chance to wake up easy, bake, listen to music, stay in pajamas for a while, to play with pictures and go back to warmer days.

The clock will speed up again soon enough, but for now, enjoy.

The art of getting away

Even if it takes ten months when it should only take ten minutes, plan it anyway. And if you meant to go in time to see Fall in full color but know you've missed your window, go anyway.

Because I know you'll find something beautiful that you've missed.

And that has missed you. It's been waiting for you to come back.







This time only better, together.

Early

"Wake up," he said. "You've got to see this." So I rolled out of bed and over to the window, where we sat and looked, and looked, wondering for a moment if we were seeing islands in a calm sea, or the mountains from the night before, peeking up through the low clouds that had rolled in overnight.

And we watched the sun come up. Quickly. By mid-morning, the valley, uncovered. "To think," I said, "this happens every morning. If we'd only take the time to see."

On the other side

I think (i think) it has finally stopped raining.

I'm not sure if it's the rain itself, or the things it prevents me from doing that bothers me the most. But every time it rains and I'm disappointed about what I "can't" do and the sog and wind and wet grows so old so fast, I have to remind myself that I'm dry. Mostly. And that's when I decide that I can wait until it's over, no matter how long it takes.

And next time you see me I just may be out canoeing in our new lake in the field in front of the house.

The new old

Keeping in mind that this site should demonstrate a little knitting every once in a while, I give you some not so new hat styles that I'm finally (after many months of hauling them to market) getting around to putting in my shop.

This is just one of many things I forget to do, right up there with forgetting to give the 13 year old cat her allergy medicine before my husband falls asleep (it is after all a 2 person job), forgetting the seemingly endless list of things the kids need to do or take with them to school on a daily basis, return phone calls (seems like it's all about email these days), put enough water in the rice cooker and clean the shower.

They are, in order, the organic knitted hat--cream with blue flower, simple knitted hat--navy with pistachio, simple organic knitted hat--pink and brown. Enjoy!

Close supervision

On the way up from gathering eggs, I feel as though I'm being watched, in a sideways sort of way.

Like, look at me, I want to you but I'm pretending like I don't.


See? I'm way too cool for you.


But not really.

Will you come play?

I'm so cute and you know it.

I'm right here, even though I know you can't see me behind this fence.

Invisible.

But still cute.

And if you're not going to come play, at least let me at those eggs.

What a gorgeous time of year.