bleeding hearts

As a northerner reborn I can tell you there are a few things I have noticed so far that have been absent in my life for far too long.  The grass; there is nothing anywhere in the south that compares to the fluffs of cool green grass that grow in the spring here.  Nothing.  The smell; the salty scented skies of cool spring mornings fill my nose with a misty chunk of heaven.  I am constantly craving fish.  And my memories.  My memories.  Each time I turn a corner with my two babies in tote, another memory creeps in feeling like deja vu at first and then becoming a solid real thing as I relive it.  I remember the cracks in the street lining a foursquare court, I remember a branch in a tree being the perfect spot to curl up and read, I remember a patch of moss being precisely where a group of fairies resided once upon a time, long long ago.  It is nothing but super sweet and in the newest phrase of my almost-almost two-year old “special special”, to share these artifacts and stories that make up my life.  And now there’s too.

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This one pictured below came as a most pleasant surprise.  Bleeding hearts; a dainty little chain linking up a hopeful spring reminder.  They have a little story hidden inside each flower.  Spread out for my boys to see, they too now have this little tale they can tell again and again.  

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It goes like this:

Once upon a time there was a man had a wish, the only thing her really truly wanted was to marry this woman he loved.  She wasn’t to keen on the idea and he spent quite of bit of time thinking about how to win her over.  He gave her two swans to show her his dedication.  But she said, “no.”  He gave her two earings to show her his sincerity.  But she said, “no.”  He gave her two slippers to convince her of his compassion.  But she still said, “no”.  He wished on a magic lamp and she finally, finally agreed.  You can push the two earing together like so, to make a heart indicating its the real deal.  My mama told it with the ending being a bottle of perfume, but I had forgotten and replaced it with a magical addition.  I rather like this change anyways.  But either way you wish to tell its cute and a lot of fun.

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Our stories are really all we have.  It is what we live for and what we will be remembered for (if we are so lucky).  They are something to share and something to keep.  They are silent, they are loud, they are life.  Oh, it is so good to be back.

another day in the life

I am a social woman by nature.  It is the way I was made.  The way I remain.  Somedays it is quite clear my boy is following suit.  Somedays he clings to me like a sweaty shirt.  Both ways he is fantastic.

While the social aspect of nursery school cannot be duplicated, I am not altogether sure it is necessary at this point.  Yet.  None the less, in attempts to recreate some sort of learning environment, I make up some silly game to play about once a week or so.  Sometimes more if I am feeling fancy.  With the breeze in our hair the bugs were kept at bay.  The cooling weather reminded me that this is indeed a glorious place to reside.  This week we did a scavenger hunt.  It ended up more or less a bug hunt to be quite honest, with a teeny nap sprinkled in.

We watched the magic happen.  And the mad crows that always ensue such a feat.

We spotted a green lynx spider.  Fantastically fluorescent with a gait that is both eery and fascinating.  

The number of butterflies, dragonflies and hummingbirds gathering in our vicinity is something to witness.  I am being quite serious when I tell you there are no less than a dozen hummingbirds in our bottle brush tree at any given moment.  Fighting and bickering and chopping at each others beaks so intensely I fear for their demise!  Although I have not been able to capture an image of these lovelies I have spotted two different varieties.  Which is a first for me.  

The pressure to fill days with precise activities with exact times constraints does not exist in our home.  And now, it is so strikingly clear to me that this is the key to inspiring a life long learner.  I want a child interested.  One who see’s the beauty in the world.  Who notices things.  Who observes and is awed by the magic of mother nature herself.  

Yes, the days can be long and lonely out here in the sticks.  We might resort to talking to ourselves after ao many hours talking to one another.  Sometimes, we don’t talk at all.  (Which, for those of you who know me are probably picking their jaw up off the floor right now.)  But truth is I am starting to feel it out here.  There is a certain predictability in this house that without fail orchestrates our day, all the while sparking up something new.  The joy in our immediate surroundings surely does not go unnoticed. 

What is migrating/coming alive/making itself known in your neck of the woods?