Where we are

I should probably bring my camera to work most days, if not every day. Something always catches my eye, inspires me, makes me wonder, makes me laugh. In a huge sandbox filled with toys, the thing that most captivated the children was finding and sorting and displaying the collection of rocks. This is sacred, to me.

As I think about it, what's amazing is how sacred it is to all of them, too. To think that, in a school with children from age three-and-a-half to fourteen, no one displaced a single rock when the play was over. I found this set up at about 7:30 a.m., which means that it had been there since about 1:00 p.m. (or earlier) the day before.

And then there's my boy. Whew! An 8th grader this year -- so grown up. Here in the U.S., eighth grade signifies the end of your elementary school years, and from here you go on to high school (for four years). Everyone goes to high school, not everyone finishes (you may legally leave school at age 16), and not everyone goes on to college (university). [edited to add: apparently I've felt the need to explain this a lot. sorry 'bout that -- I'm fixated. clearly.]

So Dean is on the threshold, educationally, between childhood and being a teenager. Sigh.

He continues to be a wonderful person. He's kind and polite and friendly; he's smart, he pays attention, and he cares. And while he's been playing soccer for the past 8 years or so, suddenly this season he's a whole new man on the field. All his skills have sharpened, and his ability to see the game and be strategic in his moves is beyond what I would have imagined for him. He's been moved back to play defense because he's one of the "big kids" now, and for the first time he has the ability to play in an appropriately aggressive way (up until now he's been waaay too unassertive to play defense!). Our family wonders together when he'll score from mid-field; he kind of misses some of the fun of being on offense and scoring goals, but his leg and aim are good enough that we (and his coaches) suspect he'll knock one in without playing out of position.

Too. much. fun.

I was awestruck today when I gave myself a moment to realize how wonderful this year has been. Despite my own kind of general grogginess and funk, despite difficulty figuring out what to put down, the reality is that it has been, and continues to be, an utterly fabulous year. I need to keep making myself stop, and think about that.

Strength

We are made powerful by our ability to remember, rebuild, and move on.

Leaping

Our fall, back-to-school resolution is to get back out into the woods for some family hikes. We are so fortunate to live in an area with an absolute abundance of trails, Ken and I both really need the exercise, and it's a time for the three of us to be together without anything to distract any of us. Along with broad trails like this one, there are paths that lead up and down through the woods as well, although all the recent rains have made those temporarily impassable.

Every time I see a picture of Dean next to Ken, or next to me, my heart skips a little at how tall he's become. Won't be long before he passes Ken, I think. Beginning 8th grade this year has brought it's own raft of changes for Dean and I keep finding myself holding my breath, wanting to slow things down, trying not to worry about what comes next. It's huge -- in the US, you start high school next, after you've been graduated from 8th grade; the final step before going off to college. Sure that's 4 years away but still, it is momentous. It feels as though that spot in time where suddenly you can see the doorway through which your child passes from his life with you, under your wing, to his own life, out in the world, is right there -- in front of you and in focus in a way it has never been before.

And 8th graders as a whole are an edgy bunch. They feel it, too; the dwindling years of childhood and the massive gap to be leapt into the *real world* of high school and beyond. We laughed when we got back to the car after our hike that we'd never been able to make the loop in an hour before, and it's all about not having to pick Dean up and carry him along the way, about his legs being just as long as ours and able to keep up (actually, I was the one who had the hardest time keeping up).

Dean will take off early next week on his next class hiking trip up into the White Mountains of New Hampshire. I know I don't need to worry as much as I did the very first time he headed off, and maybe I can pry myself away from the weather reports while he's away. Maybe I can think about where I'd like to be headed, and what's past that big leap for me. I just haven't been having much luck getting my brain to go there.

Accepting

Long days spent just hanging out, thinking just a little about what to do next. I'd like to be on the water, or near the water; silly that we can live about 50 miles from the coast and still have that be so difficult to achieve. (Of course the real problem is that EVERYONE wants to be near the water at this time of year.)

Dean appreciates the lack of motion, of time spent driving, of having a time that we have to be somewhere. He's been waiting for this part of summer when he's home. So I'm trying to sit back and enjoy it, too. Taking it for what it is and not wringing my hands over what could be.

While I'm here, I'll mention that I highly recommend Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet; on the one hand, a somewhat predictable story. On the other hand, so entirely refreshing to read about someone's life story that's manageable, understandable, imaginable -- and eye-opening to read an account of the internment of the Japanese during WWII.

Glorious

I'm so moved by this gift from my garden. I did not plant morning glory seeds this year; I would have liked to but as happens with so many things, good intentions did not result in the thing's being done. But somehow, some miraculous how, this single vine came up. Did it re-seed from last year, or was it a seed that laid dormant until now?

I noticed it there, I coaxed it onto the post where it could climb, and every now and then I have a day that starts like this, with a morning glory singing to me. And if that were not enough, the hummingbirds are back.

A Summer's ABC

Let's see how this goes.

A is for airline; Dean and I started our summer by flying down to southern Missouri to visit my brother and his wife.
B is for Bass Pro Shops -- like the LL Bean of the midwest, only bigger. Much, much bigger.

C is for cavern -- we drove to Fifty-Six, Arkansas (yup, that's the name of the town -- and we had to drive through Flippin, Arkansas, to get there -- seriously) to visit Blanchard Springs Caverns. One of the most staggeringly beautiful places I have ever seen in my life. If you ever get the chance, go.

And so onward we go.

Everything changes

It's a constant process -- trying to figure out where you are, trying to decide where you are going and the best way to get there. I miss writing here, but a lack of clarity about my purpose and direction have left me wondering what to write about, how much to say. I have mixed feelings now about what I've been sharing and with whom; I know from my journeys in blogland that this is a common enough struggle but the weight of it hadn't quite hit me before.

In the meantime, I am adoring the feeling of summer's beginning. I'm not tired of sunshine nor of birdsong and only wish for more strains of music from ice cream trucks. I am tired of firecrackers at all hours on any given night, but that's not dimming my enthusiasm overall very much. I'm making lists and researching festivals and hoping to squeeze out every drop from these long days (work notwithstanding).

Doesn't take much

I stopped planted tulips in my garden; they are not reliable for me at all. Not like daffodils, which bloom prolifically and spread each year. I don't know if tulip bulbs get eaten up by the chipmunks or squirrels, or if there's some condition in the soil or environment that doesn't give them what they need.

So it is truly astonishing when a tulip does suddenly appear. This bulb had to have been planted years and years and years ago. I don't get too excited when I sometimes see the leaves of a tulip emerge; often enough that's all I get when I get anything at all.

But this beauty held on and took our breath away. It started as a cream white then the blush of pink slowly spread, and it calls me to spend more time in the garden again.

It's all around me

How breathtakingly beautiful each day is. How grateful I am for the moments I can truly feel that. I've been thinking a lot lately about so many things -- where I'm headed, what I'd most like to be doing, how to allow myself time to be creative, what's important to write about and share, and how I can reconcile that list with where I am right now.

The opportunities and joys are all here, right now. I just need to recognize and seize them.

A little break

I'm going to take a little blogging break. Nothing's wrong, no deep philosophical musings afoot -- just feeling the need to spend free time doing other things for a while. Back in a bit!

The song of joy

Dean and I heard the wood frogs today for the first time this season!

Their song is surprising; for years I mistook it for bird song.

Winter must finally be read to head south. I'll wave goodbye to her as she goes to visit my friends in Australia and Tasmania and other parts down under.

Happy 13th!

Every single birthday, every single year, has been special and significant. That feeling grows with time -- it doesn't diminish, even if just a few of the outward trappings seem to become a little more low-key.

You have a smile that's easy, ready, and warm. Your eyes twinkle when you smile.

You care deeply about the people who are important to you.

You are kind, your heart is big and generous, and you can forgive.

You are curious, eager to learn, and willing to try.

You have a terrific sense of humor and you are willing to laugh at yourself.

It is a joy to hear you play the piano; you have a real gift.

You are interested in the world -- in people, places, ideas.

You love animals and it leads you to be knowledgeable about them, and willing to work hard on their behalf.

You love to play soccer and you put your speed, grace, and agility to such good use on the field.

As athletic as you are, you are also a true sportsman; you work hard to win but accept defeat graciously and are willing to put the feelings of others ahead of your desire to win.

You are terrific at figuring things out, at solving problems, at remembering.

You are a collector; you love to start, build, and care for collections.

You are a great friend, and people like being around you.

I love you, Dean, and I will always treasure this anniversary of meeting you, of having you join me here on this journey.

Textured Thursday

Good cop, bad cop

Things have been difficult here lately -- nothing earth-shattering, nothing about my own little family, just enough to leave me a bit drained. Hoping, in fact planning, to make a spectacular comeback this week.

May your own week be spectacular, safe, and sunny.