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Showing posts from January, 2013

Child's Play

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Amelia wanted to have a coffee shop party for her friends to celebrate her birthday. We planned it all week. We named the coffee shop, "Amaruma Coffee." George Wilder says it means, "Good Coffee". We made the logo. Of course it included a tree (Amelia draws trees constantly) and coffee beans. We made decisions about what to serve and how to serve it. 
Then Amelia decided to make a castle. She found some bricks in the yard and started making a wall/castle. George Wilder was responsible for making the mortar from ash and water and dirt. They worked on the wall/castle for days. The coffee shop became the side show and the castle would be the center of play. They walked through exactly how the day would go all afternoon Thursday. It was nearly impossible to do any school work Friday. They looked longingly toward the castle/wall. There was work to do. It had to be finished and decorated and set up for extensive castle visiting. There were problems to be solved, stories…

Barefoot in January

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Sitting in a sun beam with William. In the grass. Barefoot. Except for the one moccasin on his right foot hanging on for dear life. He is trying to plug the camera into the download cord. The sheep pull and eat the grass growing. Lucy rolls around in the warmth. The children are in the back yard playing with Amelia’s birthday presents from grandmother.
The wind lifts a leaf and lets it down again, so gently. Gentle. It is a gentle day.
It was cold enough for gloves and an ear warmer for a long run this morning. Oh the glorious cold air filling up lungs and blood. Oxygen. Tap tap of feet. The road is solace and silent so early.
The children played their fiddles with daddy after breakfast before we settled into school work and Daddy took off on the motorcycle for school.We poured outdoors as the day warmed and picnicked before collecting our seeds and planting greens because we can. It will be a contest with the bugs. I want to win this competition. Greens in our bellies – not theirs. H…

House Concert

Over the weeks we prepared for January 18th. We were dilegent to look ahead and plan. The fly by the seat of our pants (our normal tactic) would not work for this. We were preparing to host a house concert for Eric Taylor. A house full of music and people. We pruned and picked and yanked and hauled in the yard. We dusted, scrubbed, tidied, cooked, brewed, folded, collected, and rearranged inside. We sat and made lists and time lines. We planned. We borrowed chairs and a sound system. We set it up in the living room. We made it look cozy and homey and it was just that. By two in the afternoon we were ready for the show.

As the sun sank low, they came flowing in. Faces, mostly new, came. Our goal was to give a night to our guest that was different. Our goal was to make everyone feel like we had planned the event for them. And it worked. And we did it. Lots of BBQ. Lots of slaw. Gallons of homebrew. Gallons of sweet tea. Lots of flickering candles. The children made a weave in and out of…

Nontoxic Blues

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Reset buttons are brilliant. Reset refocuses, renews, rebuilds, reenters. Last Wednesday, we drove to Warner Robins to be with dearest friend Kelly and clan. Both Kelly and I were prepared for the children to need help reentering into each other's worlds after being apart for eight months. Not so. They didn't skip a beat. Their imaginations set right to work and they played alongside each other for hours on end. Kelly and I followed the two toddlers around and soaked in each other and ideas. We walked and ate and played and read stories. Kelly listens and hears and inspires and forgives and loves. It was a reset. It was nourishment.

George was able to reset and refocus at home. The quiet house is always a haven for him a spawning ground for ideas and, of course, uninterrupted fiddle practice. I believe he carries within him ideas that the world will find inspiring. Like the globe now hanging at our front entrance.

A week has passed. I feel like the blues are washing away. For…

Toiling with everything and nothing

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A giant wall blocked the way between fingers and keyboard. Everything and nothing burrows down in my mind. It was the holiday. There was the typical topics, ponderings, resolves. It wasn't what I wanted to write about. Then, I'd have a moment on a run about how beautiful this life is, but then I didn't take the time to write. I found focus on busy instead of stopping to embrace.

Faced with simple struggles and mountainous weaknessess, silence seemed easier, not necessarily better. What happens here in our world that is worth writing about, that isn't just another life song?

I've got to begin again.
Where to start?
Right here, in the present.

William is taking a nap after crying hysterically. The washing machine sways the clothes clean, the children are in their treehouse (a platform in a tree) and I hear the thud of George's axe mixed with Amelia and George Wilder voices. Danny and Mittens (the sheep) are watching it all announcing their fascination or disrega…