Pages

Tuesday, May 6, 2014

May 6, 2014

Hand on one thigh with the other grasping the white trim that frames the bathroom, peering in on me she shoots a quick glance my way, smirks and crinkles her nose at me and she's off, giggling and squealing down the hall. We are preparing to go outside and she is thrilled, nothing lights up her face - dimpled chin and all - more than the mention of heading out back, nothing other than the mention of her  Daddy or of a morning with cousins, preferably spent outside. She is a girl after my own heart. While rubbing my stomach I would dream of these days - hands brown with dirt and sun in our hair - but the reality is more sweet and more incredible than I could have known until living it. Her with her curiosity and joy, filling terra cotta pots with gravel, with mulch, with any tiny thing she can find. Even now as I put pen to paper, the balmy afternoon breeze making it's way across my face and one of my dogs getting into mischief to my left, two of those terra cotta pots rest stacked on my lap with a tiny handful of mulch being thrown into them and across my body every few minutes, the breaks between leaving time for the tiny perpetrator to bring sticks and chunks of mud-clad tree root to the dogs, navigating her way around mounds of soil and mulch that are still waiting for their permanent places. Less it sound too idyllic I should mention my picking up my pen every couple of minutes to shift an unpredictable dog, tell another to stop barking or to split up a scramble between the larger two. It can be stressful, this situation of having an unstable dog, one I wouldn't wish on anybody, but I committed myself to her long ago and though there may be daily stress it is a commitment all the same. She is mine and I am hers and while there is now another her and I that make the relationship with my furry first born a bit more strained we are seeing things through and doing as needed and enjoying our time out back as a family even if it isn't the zen-like place I always hope for it to be. Things are constantly shifting and we never know what is next, so for now we make the best of and look for that often talked of silver lining, the birds nesting upon our house, the gratitude for a place to call a home, the way that dimpled-chinned girl lights up at the thought of it all.

Sara

Monday, May 5, 2014

May 5, 2014

We stepped outside after nap, attempting to spot the birds we heard chirping once the sound machine went quiet. Watching her face I see her look on in such pleasure as a bird shakes it's feathers and hops about on the brown guttering that lines our home, her own feathery yellow hair fluttering in the breeze - still a bit sticky with sweat from napping in the warmth of the afternoon - the warmth - the very thing we have been waiting for. It's not yet stifling, just enough to leave our cheeks flushed and to keep sandals on my feet. Enough to put seed into soil and to not fret through the night about the safety of seedlings were the temperatures to dip, for they are done dipping, at least to that extreme. We are enjoying this time - our kind of weather. Our backyard oasis is coming along, our plot of Earth being minimal, but something we are thankful for and making the most of, a place we can all feel free to explore and relax and where this mom can sit back for a moment and put anxieties to rest while my daughter happily plays...oh so very happily. A large garden for food and play, a smaller one for my flowers, a long raised bed full of strawberries, cucumbers and squash, a bit of room for swinging and sitting and hopefully even a small area of grass if we can convince our eldest canine that digging isn't all it's cracked up to be - she's not convinced. There's a water table and an eating table, pots and planters and a little of this and that and just when we think we have maxed out on what we can do back there we think up a little something more. We won't stay forever but while we are here we will live.

Sara