She took my hat.
It was so simple the way she casually tossed my hat on her head rather than stuffing it into the tote bag. It made sense, her arms were full of things we were bringing on our lake vacation, and heads are a particularly underutilized surface. I’m glad she thought of it.

But the image startled me as she walked out the door, beneath the hat hung her shiny long brown hair past her waist, a beautiful young woman, lighthearted, on the verge of turning 15.

Do you remember fifteen? The whole world beginning to open up to you? Friends who could drive cars?

I knew I had to capture this image – though I wrote it down on paper, what I saw – before she walks out that door for the last time. That is coming up, you know, fifteen leads to so quickly to “forever.”

And not 20 minutes later we found ourselves pulled over at the side of the road, waiting for the other half of the family to catch up to us (I don’t bother with a cell phone anymore and we had been separated longer than seemed right for a quick drive down the road – had Bret accidentally left his keys in my car or something, and now had no way to contact me? How did I manage group outings before cell phones? This was what I wondered as we sat there). It was the weirdest little place, right on the main road, but totally abandoned, totally unnoticed by the daily traffic going by. And so I knew this was the place I needed to take my daughter again, on a day less rushed.

But what day is less rushed, in a busy family?

Six weeks later I made a trip out to Windham to pick her up from a sleepover. I had my tag-a-longs too, a 5 year old with grumpy sniffles and a 20-month-old who had woken up from a very short car nap. Because of the dangerous road, I had been counting on both of them staying in the car so I could do a quick photo shoot, but hey – my kids don’t sleep and that’s just that. So I hoisted that boy into the frame back pack, plied the sick 5yo with a fruit leather – for real emergencies only – and started directing poses. Oh yeah, she took my shirt too. I figured metallic skulls-and-crossbones is not appropriate for an almost-40-year-old mom of 4, right? At least not in daylight?

I had gotten a bunch of shots and was ready to go, feeling the impatience of the younger kids and the oppression of that crazy, weeks-long late September heat wave. Persephone thought she was just getting started exploring the property, but I told her we had to go, it was time to get back to life. And she stopped me short again: “Why can’t this be life?” she asked. And I remember.

I’ll always remember.
asparagus
It can be eaten raw. And it’s good that way. Simple, done! Simple is almost always better. If you were not enlightened of this simple principle before, you are welcome. Happy middle of summer!
MMA
= Micro Martial Artist
5 year old Rivendell requested to move up to the bigger kids’ class (7 and up) because she’s been at it over a year and was getting bored with the lack of challenge.
I was unsure about her readiness to move up, but all of a sudden she developed this amazing core stability and intensity of focus – she rocks.
update: So three hours after I posted these photos, Rivendell was rewarded for her ambition. She just got put on the competition team, her cuteness is going to be a secret weapon. Wow, you close a proverbial door or two and the shutters start flying off the windows, the screens get punched out, shingles get lifted off the roof… this family is going in so many directions, most of them outward.
I never did write up a post to go with my amazing title, “Happy St. Ceili Mosh,” but if you want to see photos from the monthly Ri Ra ceili dances, they are in the album called “ceili” which is under the WPG2 link in the sidebar. The ones where everyone is wearing green, those would be from March.
Too cold.
Friday morning. 19 degrees. We were hoping for it to reach 25, but we couldn’t wait any longer.
My braving-the-cold friend Sarah (one of many named Sarah!) who will probably be moving away in a couple of years. That is what all the really good people end up doing.
Arioch didn’t last long. “Mah! mah! mah!… brrr…. Mum-mum-mum!… brrr…” mixed with a little bit of crying for effect.
I wish I had gotten some photos of Sarah’s little boy. He’s the most thoughtful little thing, but always manages to evade my camera. And I’m tired of coming home with so many photos of the backs of children. Ice skating is scheduled again tomorrow when it should be in the low 30s!
[We did go on Saturday and had the pond to ourselves, surprisingly. I think people are getting sick of winter. Not me, this is flying by too fast! More snow please! And I'm not ready for ice skating to end.]
Practice session.
A friend, some homeschoolers, some non-homeschoolers. We went to hang out for an hour. This is a new and fluctuating group that practices on Wednesday mornings at Acoustic Artisans, One Forest Ave, which is where you can get your instrument repaired or take a lesson. Also… they fix broken iPhones. Why not.
I know she doesn’t look enthusiastic, but she didn’t want to leave.
Arioch has a foot that dances. Just one.
Perspective.
I always console my conscience by saying I will go out to save the world when I am finished raising my own kids. What can be more important than taking care of my family, and doing it well? Well… a local friend of mine is showing that the two do not need to be exclusive of each other. She and her husband and their eight homeschooling children (oh she’s younger than I am too, by a couple of years, so if anyone wins, it’s she) have taken a year of their life to do missionary work with orphans in Costa Rica and Nicaragua, on their own dime.
Marjorie has a whole blog going, but I wanted to highlight this single post. I can’t believe how ridiculously spoiled we are.
Also – you know those cute Golden Retriever puppies in the L.L. Bean catalogs at Christmas? Marj’s. She breeds famous cute fluffy puppies. Yeah, she definitely wins.









and I think she really means it.