midweek messiness and summertime gifts

For the record, we have dived into the laziness of summer with ease. The younger boys have been playing games and digging in earnest in the backyard, helping me with the garden.  My oldest is often found reading. We are sleeping a bit later than usual and start most of our days with nothing planned. Yesterday the youngest and I went to the pool three times to swim. Yes, three times. Bliss.....

The bounty of mother nature's harvest is also a gift. For the past year we have belonged to a CSA(community supported agriculture) that delivers a little nature in our home every week.  The box arrives once a week in the early morning hours and it always feels like Christmas when the boys bring it in to open. Who knew that three scrappy boys could be so excited about vegetable boxes? When we opened up this latest one, I really could see the full arc of the seasons. We are in full throttle summer mode with the vegetables and I am not remorseful to say that we ate up everything in the box within a day of its arrival.  

It was a beautiful gift for our bellies. 

A nourishing gift for our bodies from summer sun. 

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post script: our house is a heavenly mess. 

nothing has changed there, just more boys home to make more messes all day. xxoo

p.p.s. linky lo with Lou. 

poetic droplet :: soft, the touch of a bee to her favorite flower

i wonder of the soft intimacy of the bee to her favorite flower,

the dusting of pollen across her abdomen,

sipping slow the nectar to make the hived honey. 

i look away,

my face a blossomed cheeky crimson.

how well does she know this flower. 

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 foliophoto, with the ever inspirational ladies at

  rainforest creative salon and bedsidesign.

xxoo

24 of 52. portraits. of my merry men.

in the low light of daybreak, they slept on, 

safe in his deep tenor voice, a heavy blanket woven 

from scratchy bearded kisses and deep arm swings up into the air, 

a beloved knowledge that he would catch them before they fell. 

and in the soft quiet, morning, they slept on. 

leaving behind dark days and unloved dreams

sleeping while their father took watch through the deepest of night, 

reading until dawn, pouring out words, and outlined songs of sweet humming comfort. 

holding them in the safety of his hands, 

and joining in their dreams of revelry and running. 

for fathers know of these things remembered and wanted,  

            all things wild and unfettered,

for they once were little boys too. 

A photo of their father reading them to sleep, asleep himself. 

Photos of the boys, the last morning of school before summer holiday. 

happy father's day to my number one. xxoo

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blog love this week: Sweet Belinda's beautiful photos of her children visiting their great-grandmother; sweet little gnomes over at to gather and love; Christie's sweet photos of her son; again, such preciousness when old mets new at Little Sleep; these two sweet images at bluebirds of happiness; sweet pea slyvie's capture of her little man pushing at the most glorious red door; these sweet captures at Jane Mabel; and these two sweet b+w captures at hello sisilia. 

how are you this week? what lovely captures have you found in this 52 project? Joining in with Jodi and many others in the 52 portrait series. xxoo

poetic pause :: windows

what do I know of another's life but through your door,
through your windowed threshold,
loomed with the thoughtless threads,
covering a barren land, full of forgotten intent.

cake, mud and footed pajamas.

watching my youngest live fully into his first full day of summer vacation yesterday made me all sorts of happy.

midweek messiness and lives lived, loved.

When I think of the last 7 days I feel exhausted. I walked into last week tired. and very whiny. I felt the full load of end of school year busy making,  the field trips, and sick children.  My house, cluttered with projects brought home from school and the never ending frustration with the last bits of homework battles. I was tired. messy beyond compare.  

But then after Friday, I wasn't sure what to feel.  My whining and exhaustion were put into focus; messiness mattered not, loving the boys to bits did. 

resilience, hope

and in what we thought were the confines of our humanity, there is hope, there is resilience;
there is a stretching out across the continents, through puddles of blue, and oceans of despair,
hands held together by the common thread of deep love for all of humanity, for all of our children's sake.

we keep our little rafts afloat. we refuse to sink. we refuse to stoop to base convictions that evil should be met with evil and violence met with violence. we meet way out in our tiny little basin of stars, and agree, that as long as we are camping out here on this planet, this little corner, this eternal turning towards the sun and revolving through the ages, we will hold each other accountable to do better.

we will change our tattered pages of history. we will sew down the frayed edges, mend broken spirits and rethread a new story in this quilted milky way of stars.

thank you, every single last one of you, who kept watch in your hearts with me this weekend. who said a kind word on my blog, or hugged their children a bit closer.  thank you, thank you for handing a stranger a look of hope on the street, or offering to carry someone's worries for them.  thank you for your random acts of love and the beautiful dance you create as you step through your day.

thank you for keeping a light on in your hearts, and in your home. xxoo