Showing posts from February, 2012

Where the cactus grow

He has been in a spider man costume for 48+ hours. He ate a banana and two sausage biscuits for breakfast. On the way to church he saw a cactus plant and exclaimed: "Cactus grow in the desert and at Chips and Salsa Houses". They grow right there at "Chips and Salsa Houses" (Mexican Restaurants). At lunch he announced: "I'll eat what you serve me." He spells everything out that he sees. "What does t-a-l-l spell?" "I know that j-a-y is for jay bird." He doesn't like that his sister runs faster. He doesn't like it when she makes up all the rules to the games. He doesn't like to be two feet or two minutes away from her. She doesn't like to be away from him and she doesn't like it when he want to sit on the exact same branch of the tree. He likes to wiggle in between mom and dad at six in the morning for his last hour and half of sleep. He orders his breakfast every night before bed. . . George Wilder's

Being Deliberate

Coffee and Quiet and Rain. The noise -- the washing machine singing clean clothes. It is Friday. Waffle Friday. The sticky is gone from the table, the dishes are put away. The animals are fed. The children are at their Friday co-op. William takes a nap. Think Time. Where has February gone? It came to us with a nasty cold. George worked diligently on job talks and the dissertation. It sent us to the farm so George could write and we took along a stomach bug from Athens. We returned to hibernate and keep the bug from spreading. In all of this: William has learned to sleep through the night. He has learned to talk and cackle and hold his pacifier by jamming his thumb way up in the hole. He loves to talk with George Wilder and watch the children play. We walk, we talk, we bounce, we sleep. We are tired at the end of the day. Amelia is our chicken girl. She runs to them in the morning and talks about her plans for them at night. She will sell you their eggs! She finally figured out wh


Braids are right today. Braids are for the warmth, for the beauty, for the quick look of together when little else is. Braids because I can and will and do and feel young and alive. Braids – a suit for here and now. This office of diapers, meals, blanket tents, vet clinics for exotic animals and reading books about a family of mice that can’t catch their train, a little boy’s first hair cut, a to serious monster that thinks laughter is bad, and birds. Always birds. They collect four feathers today – at least. Well, that doesn’t include the tail feathers that Tess keeps losing to George Wilder’s quick grabs. Amelia says the little gray ones are from a gold finch. Then they trade some more before heading out to build a sand castle and play school. How do they even know how to “play school”? We are barefoot. The sheep bask in the sun. The bees visit the dandelions and rosemary. We watch their little legs collect the pollen. We are satisfied. Until lunch. William wants his l

Grass Stains

The day the ground hog provides us with a weather statement. . . The children laugh at the thought of a little furry creature predicting the weather as they turn tumbles through the grass and climb trees with bare toes. Bath time reveals grass stains on knees and elbows. The sun sparkles in the sky and warms us deep. There are stories about record cold temperatures in France and Greece. Snow is covering ancient temples and the Danube freezes. People are not waking from their sleep in Bulgaria and we wake barefoot. They were grumpy when they woke up. I thought that I wasn't grumpy, but I wasn't dancing or singing the way George does when he wakes even after writing late into the night. What would George do? The children and I are in Charlotte with my mom. George is at home writing and writing some more. I miss him. I don't say to him enough that his presence changes us. I grab Amelia's hands and make the sunshine and start to sing, "Oh let the sunshine in, fa