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a long-winded build up to some Fourth photos. that’s all.
Yesterday was what London calls a “home day”. It’s just like what it sounds like – a day where we spend every waking hour at home. These are her absolute favorite type of days. We stayed home primarily because we had no access to a car. Which was fine. To be fair, the kids stayed home all day. Kevin and I actually enjoyed a now-rare date night. The kids and I had plans to attend a library event in the afternoon but both cars were occupied so we skipped out on the library event. Which was fine also, except now our library books are overdue. Again. (I’ve made a basic…
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How Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count the Ways.
What I Love About the Farm: Hanging out with Sally and Emma and Sarah. The wide open spaces. (No neighborhood in the distance. No cell towers. No highway over the ridge. Nothing but green trees and green grass.) These two boys developing a brand new buddy-ship. No Internet connection. (Yes, I love this. I type these little posts at night, lying in bed, through my phone. And even that service is sketchy and unreliable. And I like how that makes me feel marvelously distant from all other realities except the one wide-open reality in which I am currently experiencing.) The loud chaos of so many children playing at once. And…
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tradition
tradition: a long-established custom that has been passed on. Yes. Perfect. I love tradition. I love events and details and activities that you do year after year, holiday after holiday, season after season. And I love July Fourth. Love it. Love the mad rush that leads up to the day. Love the kids helping decorate the porch so it looks all shades of blue, red and white festive. Love the tattoos that every kid chooses to slap across their cheeks. I think part of what I love is how you can try to make so many particulars the same – the food, the location, the order of events (guns, tubing,…
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More Kids Than Adults: Lessons Learned
I haven’t been home for a full week. Seven days. Seven nights. It’s July. And in our framily July means one thing. The annual July Fourth party. A tradition at least twenty years in the making. And – oh boy – will I have a lot of things to say about this past week. Here’s the first . . . Lots of us slept at the farm house. The grand total was something like this – 5 adults. 9 kids. (And some days held more children drifting in and out.) The point is – the adults were outnumbered. The kids could have thrown a coup and forced us to feed…
