Weekends lately are full of long days working in the yard. With each bare root rosebush, rhododendron, or bunch of rhubarb I place in the dirt, I find myself talking to each plant, hoping they will feel at home. It's a little surprising to find myself enjoying this satisfying work so well. Our children explore the yard - endlessly entertained by earthworms, lizards, piles of dirt. And we work and work, dreaming of the bounty and relaxation to come.
There is nothing sweeter than a boy and his baby.
A happy combination: fresh paint, flowers, a little winter sunshine.
Slowly, patiently, our home is becoming more organized, more stylish, more ours. The much-discussed list of projects grows constantly. One conundrum remains the entryway and accompanying tiny closet. Into this space we fling coats, shoes, bags, the detritus of our day. Dirt often accumulates and we have needed something to cover the cold travertine. This bamboo mat, from Cost Plus World Market for only $25, fits the bill just fine. It wasn't until I brought it home and walked over for a few days that I noticed the forget-me-nots. What a lovely image, I thought, for sending our guests on their way home. Remember us. Please come back.
Or, even more immediately: remember to hang up your coat, put your shoes away, stash your keys.
This is not terribly impressive, I know. But I made it and I like it and it serves a purpose in our home, so I'm sharing it with you.
We live along a walking trail that eventually leads to a dog park. Dogs are everywhere in this neighborhood, and unfortunately, so is their excrement. So I found this little wooden doghouse at the craft store, lightly sanded it, added a layer of wood stain and a polite message. Now it's stuffed with the plastic bags our newspaper arrives in and fastened to our fence, just where the easement from the street (which runs along our fence) meets the trail.
Hopefully it will encourage some courtesy among dog owners so that we can all enjoy the trail and neighborhood park. (Hopefully is the operative word there, I know.)
Our Christmas company left today for the last leg of their Pacific Northwest adventure. The chaos of the holidays is hard for a very small child. Today was an opportunity to relax at home and enjoy a bit of quiet.
We spent the morning sorting laundry and cleaning house, getting ready for the week and enjoying the calm. The boys stayed in their new monster jammies all day.
Later in the afternoon, when M and his dad had put away all the new toys, he asked me for a box. And some tape and a pair of scissors. I allowed unrestricted access to my cone of kitchen string. The next few hours were spent quietly building a castle.
It's a beautiful thing: a boy and his imagination.
For the first time ever, we are celebrating Christmas in our own home. There is something magical about preparing for the holiday this year. I have found immense satisfaction in the making, baking, mailing, shopping, wrapping, shipping that surrounds this holiday and that is a rare acheivement.
We found a skinny little tree in the woods and decorated it with tiny white lights, my favorite glass ornaments, and glittered trains, planes and racecars.
Presents are wrapped, festive foods are prepared, friends have arrived. I won't bore you with a list of everything I've crafted, baked and cooked. Instead I'll just share an idea for a festive and refreshing winter cocktail:
In a crock pot, combine the zest of one orange (I used a vegetable peeler to make long, thin strips), three bags of mulling spices, and one bottle of inexpensive, full-bodied red wine. Cook on high for two hours. Strain wine and return to empty bottle with the help of a funnel. Serve chilled over ice with a splash of sparkling mineral water and a thin slice of orange.
Enjoy, dear friends. This year, I'm remembering that Christmas is not about how much you can accomplish, but about the amount of love you can cultivate to warm you and yours through the long, cold winter nights.
It began as a temporary month-to-month rental, then slowly started to feel like home. We talked in vague terms about perhaps landscaping, fencing, painting, remodeling bedrooms, adding on to the deck, reorganizing the kitchen. After 53 weeks of living here, and several months of effort, we are proud to call our home home. We're here to stay. It's ours and that feels oh so good.
The feeling of welcomeness has, I hope, been present since the beginning. (Since this photo was snapped I've added a mat in front of the door, just to be sure.)
A Friday evening surprise immeasurably improved my summer. I rode around the neighborhood at twilight and felt just like a little girl.
My enthusiasm had not dimmed by the next morning.
Even if you stop remembering, you never forget.
Another Mother's Day gift.
Fresh inspiration from the library.