Wednesday, August 1, 2012


Sometimes there are just too many projects, too many things that need to be done with no clear idea of where to start. On days like that I find it is easier to not start at all...or start something else entirely. That's just what I did yesterday. I ignored the long list of renovation projects, gardening projects and even most of the day-to-day tasks of being the mama to three little ones and sat down at my sewing machine. I had a little bit of fabric from a dear friend that had been calling out to me from the stack it sat in. It wasn't enough for the quick play skirt I wanted to make for my youngest so I added a bit more of something else. Together, they were just enough.

I thought the whole thing would have to be scrapped after not one, but two, wrong cuts. When will I remember not to hurry in anticipation of snacks and naps and cuddles and fights and everything else that makes up our day? I stepped away, took a deep breath and came back to this pile of fabric that maybe wasn't so ruined after all... not with a few strategic seams here and there.

An hour or so later and we had this - looking just right for the little one it was made for. Ready for twirling, running, chasing and a little exploring...

...and for looking that sweet kind of perfect that only a two year old can.

Friday, July 20, 2012

home again...

We extended our trip a few more weeks and spent two lovely months in our little hometown. Two months of honeysuckle, fireflies and lazy days. Two months that started with snow flurries and ended with blackberries that were almost ripe. All of it with mountains in the background that must be magnetic because the way that they pull me.

That seemed to be just long enough for me to forget why the teen version of myself always wanted to leave, and also just long enough not to remember that we had to come back at all. But back we are and oh, what an adjustment! It feels like moving here all over again. Making this house and town our home is a process and I let myself jump out of that process while we were away. And I've been quite reluctant, since we've been back, to jump in again.

It would be too easy right now to make a list of all the reasons I'm having a hard time feeling at home here. Too easy to make comparisons to our sleepy hometown (a place my husband and I both agree will never be home again anyway, as lovely as it is to go back and visit). Too easy to make comparisons to the cities we've lived in and fell in love with. So I won't.

I will think of the next project, envision the garden that seems so reluctant to go in, and fall back into the routines of the everyday. It's those routines, I think, that make a place "home" and maybe that's at the heart of this. Being away was wonderful- but disruptive. Maybe we just need to be back here for a while and move through our days. For me, that means giving over to the routines with less comparisons and scrutiny. I need to give this place a chance.

So I'll take one more look back, at the hills and the honeysuckle, and with a deep breath, I'll be home.

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

speaking of home...

Renovations and garden plans and everyday life are on hold for awhile because we found ourselves on a road trip. The opportunity came up for us to accompany my husband on a trip for work and we are turning it into an extended vacation. We are currently in our hometown (with a quick side trip to the town we someday hope to make our hometown). When my beloved mountains first came into view, I'll admit I did tear up a bit. How can a place work it's way so deeply into your heart? I love to travel and have truly appreciated everywhere we've been but oh, this place!

It's been too long.

Friday, March 23, 2012


When I was a little girl I would count the days until Spring... until the first purple crocus appeared to tell me that other flowers would soon follow. I knew, not long after, I would see daffodils and tulips and I knew just were to go to find the thickest carpet of pretty little violets. I used to think I was the only person in the world who knew those little violets were there. It was a ritual.

I miss that ritual. It has been many years since we have lived somewhere with four distinct seasons. I have always felt that when you grow up with seasons it becomes a part of you. Something in you still moves to the rhythm of winter giving way to spring and summer slipping into fall. Even without a calendar, something deep inside tells you that, somewhere, golden maple leaves are falling or the smallest crocus has pushed up through the snow.

Despite this internal knowing, I still long for the outward signs. I have resigned myself to waiting... realizing that one day we will have seasons again. I know, for now, I should enjoy the land of no-real-winter-to-speak-of. Roses in January are still lovely, after all.

A few evenings ago, I stood staring at the expanse of lawn in front of our house. I was envisioning the new bed that will go there (I'm thinking gardenias are needed). Just then, the breeze picked up and filled the air with such sweetness. The jasmine that grows beside our house was blooming and oh my, what a scent. The little girl in me said "Spring!" and I realized that whether it's jasmine or daffodils, it certainly smelled like the season had changed. And maybe we don't have crocuses or violets, but we do have a hidden patch of some nameless purple flower that seems to have bloomed overnight in the corner of our yard. Obviously, planted by fairies according to a certain nine year old who knows a great deal about such things.

So once again I'm surprised. Surprised that everyday it feels a bit more like "home" when I most adamantly insisted it never could. And surprised that even if I wasn't counting the days, Spring still found me.

Thursday, March 15, 2012

not so fast...

Now that's ironic. I started a blog about moving, finding a home, settling in and making it our own (the very act of which means I am accepting all of these changes a bit, right?) only to have my dear one come home one day with a look on his face that told me to sit down. What's that? We're barely unpacked and your office might be relocating, we might be relocating with it and we won't know for awhile?

So much for that settled, at-home feeling.

Since "awhile" could have meant anytime in the next year I was left with that dull, hollow feeling of existing without really making long term plans. Of wondering is we should scratch the garden and cut back on the improvements to the house. Everything was so temporary again.
On the other hand, boy-oh-boy, was I getting a lesson on living in the moment. And let's face it, that's a lesson the universe has been trying to teach me for quite some time now.

And what about this blog? This brand-new, one post-so-far blog? It could slip away quite easily. No one knew it was here yet, it could just tip-toe out the way it slipped in and all would go on as if it never existed. But that thought made me sad. Like not getting to finish a book that looked promising.

But finally word came that we can stay put. I type that with one very long, grounding, sigh of relief. Improvements and landscaping can go on with more than just re-sale in mind. Friendships have a chance to form roots strong enough to hold when the inevitable move does come again one day. But I think what I love best of all is the quiet rhythm of the days that I get to picture stretching out ahead of us. What we picture in our minds is seldom what reality holds but I do love and cherish that picture, nonetheless.

And don't think I'm not laughing at myself a little. I came here kicking and screaming only to kick and scream all over again when I'm told I might not get to stay? But, you see, it's "home"...wherever and's "home" I really want. And it looks like, for the next little while anyway, that's just what we have here.

Saturday, January 14, 2012

to begin...

A few months ago we lived in a city that I love, planning to move to another city I love. I was looking at apartments in Brooklyn (I was also looking at apartments in Manhattan but who are we kidding?) when my husband called to say we were not moving to NY after all. We were, in fact, moving to a state and a small town and a climate that were as far away from my plans as I could imagine. I'll be honest, I didn't handle that news very well. I wanted urban, I wanted seasons, I wanted what I wanted. I wanted my husband to tell me we could stay where we were, where I had put down roots, had friends I dearly loved and a view of the city skyline that took my breath away. The nature of his job means we move every so often but the nature of his wife is to treat every home as if we will grow old there. I let my guard down, I let the place "in" only to feel the inevitable dismay when it's time to move on. But move on we did. To this small town and this house and the little bit of land it sits on. Now I watch my children chase each other in the yard and I walk through this house and make plans for a garden and I realize I've done it again. I stopped fighting the fact that change is inevitable and when I turned around...I was home.