mantra.

It’s because the days move so quickly that I cling to them so tightly.

Having a senior in our home constantly reminds me – nine doesn’t last.

But goodness – how sweet it is.

Sweet, I tell you, to watch the kids craft magic out of yarn and sticks – a horse, a unicorn, a tiny doll.

Pretend play in the woods.

Bow and arrows from sticks and string.

Forts built. Towers created.

Conversations pure and innocent about trees and deer and songbirds.

And I don’t always photograph this kind of magic

Because I’m afraid that if I do they’ll recognize it as unusual and stop themselves.

I want them to live as long as they can believing this idyllic countryside life is Normal.

Is to be expected and pursued.

Attainable.

And sustainable.

I’m trying to believe it too.

I’d like them to keep believing that until they are Old Enough

To recognize for themselves

The beauty in simplicity

The peace in doing less

And claim it all as their own.

May it be their definition of childhood.

And Happiness.

And Regular Life.

I will feed them Sunshine and Laughter.

Inspiring words and pretty songs.

Slow days and alone time.

Cheerful group play and exploring the spaces you find yourself in.

Bringing outside in

And taking inside out.

I will stick giant branches in pretty crocks on our mantles

and hang pinecones in the kitchen.

I will carry the table outside and hang curtains on the porch.

This I will do.

This is my life’s work.

Until they begin to feed themselves and nourish others.