Tuesday, April 01, 2014

march away

it has been more than a month since i last filled this space! 
alas, the days have too few hours. 
life has been full. in the best possible ways.
the blog has not been the repository for quiet reflection.
i do miss it so.

so i am here, late. too late. to share what has passed.

on a first friday in march, there were robins all over the lawn 
of the mcguffey art center. dozens of robins. 
i have never seen so many red breasted birds hopping around one property.

and then we were blasted with a significant snow storm. 
not the first of the season. and not the last.

so it snowed. and snowed again.

 it snowed so often this winter, by the last storm people stopped panicking. 
the snow fell in big flakes and we all carried on. 

my mother said, reflecting on her first virginia winter, 
"if it's like this every winter, i'll be glad." i think i agree!

so the last storm came. followed by a sunset that said, "spring!"

and then something really big happened. . .

my rough and tumble joy to the world

had a birthday

this beautiful, energetic, brilliant, sassy, snuggly, giggly boy of ours turned five. 


he is a gift.

the month of march, as much as anything, was about leading our lives around 
the sweeney todd rehearsal schedule. 

i am so impressed with the director's courage and drive.
and i'm  blown away by the young talent.

and we are always completely smitten with our girl, 
who, whether in a major or minor role, 
is a warm glow of awesomeness where ever she stands.

 ah yes, march has been a month of developments and accomplishments. 
it's been a time of returning, a time of launching. 
it has most certainly been a time of reflection and inspiration.

and connection. 
to friends. colleagues. kids. land. my loves.

in with april

out with march

spring has arrived!

Friday, February 28, 2014

sunlit path

there is a nice network of trails behind my mother's residence. 

last weekend we had a couple of amazing spring-like days and so we met her for a stroll. things were a little swampy in spots with the recent snow melt, and the little creek was full.

at the end of it all tristan had fun with yia yia's new magnetic screen door. 
hopefully it will keep the stink bugs out.

speaking of yia yia, here is her latest knitting creation. she designed this sweater herself. isn't it lovely? i took some buttons off of an old sweater of mine and attached them. 
tashi wasn't happy that i had her stand outside in the cold to take a picture, 
but she does love the sweater.

we have been meeting up with our pals and enjoying the border
between winter and spring. days have been breezy, bright, exceptionally cold 
AND exceptionally warm! there really is no knowing what is next. 

it is time to start thinking about seeds: literal and symbolic. 
what will you plant in the coming season?

wishing you a happy weekend!

Sunday, February 16, 2014

moon bright snow light

steel grey mantle. sharp clean air. a stunning shroud of moon lit sequins.
 the mandarin orange sunlight spilling across a snowy bower. 
the smell of wet wool and hard wood. whisper of flurries, exclamation of trees. 
bundles spilling from branches, sliding from peaked roof, 
sticking to gloves and boots and hats.

i love a  big snowstorm.

i dream of it really, every winter.

sometimes it's challenging to reconcile a mediterranean and arctic lineage. 
i prefer a temperate open-window-day for the bulk of the year. 
but please do bring me a couple of great servings of snow. . .  
just a couple, thank you very much!

the south has really taught me how to welcome a snow storm. the stocking up, yes, of bread and cheese and granola and a few great beverages. the preparation for possible long term power outages. some sort of stew recipe doubled. and at least a few baked delights. 

filling the tub and the pitchers, doing a few quick loads of laundry, grinding the coffee beans, charging the devices, making sure batteries and candles are in supply. choosing to alter or commit to schedules based on what if. checking radars and school closures incessantly.

dan is a heroic wood gatherer and uses the resources that surround us with just an axe and hand saw. we don't depend on our wood stove to heat us through winter, but when a storm comes, we prepare to rely on it. we assume that we will lose power.

he is also shovel master. our driveway is a beast to clear. this time he made two great tracks for our tires to roll through and left it at that.

to our astonishment, the power didn't flicker once with this storm, a huge change from what we experienced four years ago in the big snows, and even last year with the wet, heavy, end-of-march four inches. so we built fires for the love it. we continued to cook, to bathe, to run water from the tap. and we played some. not enough, nearly, but some.

we watched the snowfall ebb and flow and return. we lounged a lot and worked a lot too. we had impromptu family time and flirted briefly with an alternate schedule. our olympic viewing went uninterrupted, despite some difficult reception at times.

and it is still out there, mounds of snow, melting, and freezing, 
capturing everything that stains its stark white field. 

we continue to play in it, to wonder at the way the light plays on it

in the deep heavy there is memory. trudging up and down a long snow packed driveway. sledding alone when school was canceled. gathering with friends on friday nights regardless of road conditions. invigorating ski runs in subzero temperatures. wet hair freezing stiff while walking home from swim practice. damp boots and gloves and garments peeled off at every entrance. 

accumulation a daily norm.  
the built in pause at the window while assessing the frosted backdrop of your every outing. 

flexibility, balance, endurance: a winter pose.