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When The Earth Recycles...

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When the air cools every so slightly. When it is Friday and littles wiggle after a math lesson, we take a nature walk. Our driveway is long from house to road, long enough, I say, to start spotting season changes. I hope it’s true. 
If we look. If we are aware enough and keen enough to see, there is plenty of life and change happening right at the edge of the driveway.


A bumble bee collects pollen deep in the pumpkin bloom, ants carry away a dead bee to their home. The bees start dying now. Their honey work is done and all that is left to do is to become an ant feast. We watch a dung beetle eat the last of a cow pie that is now a pile of dirt. A giant garbage truck rumbles by to collect our trash, while this humble beetle silently and perfectly composts. No waste, just beautiful, fertile soil ready to begin the cycle all over again. And just after we observe the beetle, we watch ants feast on an old cicada. Once again, a silent composting taking place right in the middle of the drive…

Seven Bridges With Seven Kids

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We had a magnificent time in Colorado with the Border’s clan. It is always sweet to be with them. We thought we would find a fun hike but we had some things to consider. We would be hiking with seven children between the ages of three and eighteen (so not even a child actually), we had to aim for something that wasn’t too easy and wasn’t too difficult. We decided on a hike called “Seven Bridges”. We thought we could make it as far as we could and enjoy the water as we went. With three adults tagging along, we let the kiddos lead us on the trail. We made it over four and thought - okay, “one more” but they kept right on all the way to the seventh bridge. They didn’t want to stop for a picnic until we were there. The day was hot and grand. Right at the seventh bridge, we paused and played and splashed and climbed before heading back down the mountain. Rain came and cooled us just at the right time. 











Slow Down In Suches

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Our summer adventure wasn’t what we had planned. We were ready to see more of the grand country and weave our way to Washington, but we unexpectedly lost a large part of life in May when George’s father, Jim passed away. Our heavy grief  weigh on us and made it hard to think far and wide. We wanted to stay close and tight. 
Finally, we decided on a plan that took us as far as Colorado to be with George’s sister and her family. We took time at the farm caring for cows and spending time with grandmother before we took some time as a family at our sweet friend’s cabin in Suches, Georgia to slow down and settle in to a much needed rest. 

The power of the pause fell over all of us. We cuddled in the cool, collected gifts from the forest, hiked the creeks, swam the lakes, read books, drew, wrote, napped, and washed in the quiet of the forest. 
As time slowed in the woods, even the sun shining through the trees onto bumpy bark of an old fallen tree drew us in.
William tossed a baseball to h…

A Day On The Colorado River

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When sweet friend April says she can take us rafting on the Colorado River, we say, “Yes, please!” 
We weave our way to Golden, nine thousand feet high and take in the scenery and visit and sleep.  Early in the morning I run the roads in the thin air touching the sky. We load up boats and gear galore and pack snacks and water and find bathing suits and shoes and all the things for rafting. White water rafting is a new and curious world to all of us. A world full of waterproof bags, ropes, carabiners, life jackets, first aid packs, air pumps, oars, sunscreen, hats, and patience.
We drive and wind and drive our way to the river. We set out the boats, fill them tight with air and set the gear. There is a rhyme and reason to all the moves, so we watch and learn and help April tediously prepare the boats that we all know will lead to a superb ride. 
The sun beats down and we lather on the sunscreen. We dig for sunglasses and hats and long sleeves while George and April set up the shuttle.…

She Weaves

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Her hand holds a pencil, a paint brush, a tool, a piece of grass, leaves, paper, egg shells, fabric, paints, broken pieces of something, beads, string, yarn, branches, mud, earth - anything she can harvest, collect, or gather. She looks around her — watching. She is thinking - thinking of a plan. 
She will strip the tender bark off privet and weave it into a basket. She will take the stringy pieces from a dying palm branch and braid it into long strands of twine. 

She will crush rocks for colors, boil mango skins with onion peels for a certain paint hue. 
She sees color combinations with colors I do not even see. 
She asks questions at the living history ranch -  How do you make the bead designs?” Weeks later, she disappears into her bedroom and returns with pieces of paint brush, scissors, a ruler and an egg collecting basket fashioned into a loom and shows us her bead work. 

She weaves beauty, nature and art into her world. As she grows, her ideas and creations are more intricate, …