Memorial Day in a weird brown color

TennesseegnomecoralbellsandtoadabodeagastacheexplorerschickenandScoutexplorershollyhockexplorerstomatoesexplorershusbandwieldingmacheteexplorershoneysuckleexplorersrosesexplorersOur gnome.  Our Tennessee gnome.  He helps win football games, see.

Coral bells and our toad abode.  Vacancy.  Tell your toad friends.

Anise hyssop.  Soon I will tweeze my fingers down the length of the stems and then inhale the licorice fragrance on my thumb and forefinger, again and again and again and every time I’m outside.

Scout and my one surviving chicken.  Maybe next weekend we’ll go to the farm that’s an hour away and get some new ones.  Delawares.

Jet black hollyhocks.  Last week I thought they were burdock.  I’m so delighted they’re hollyhocks!!  I much prefer hollyhocks!

Tomatoes.  We’re trying straw bale gardening this year.  So far so good.

My husband wielding his machete.  I told him, “No, hold it like you’re wielding.”  He did his best.  Then he said, “You betta stay outta my blood line.” Then he went to play tennis.

What he’s up against.  Miles, it seems, of honeysuckle.  What we need is a goat.

And those are my little tea roses.  My imperfect roses.  They don’t get enough sun.  And they get too much water.  And they’re attacked by all sorts of things.  But they keep growing.  My husband gave them to me eight years ago.  I would never try to move them and risk harming them, so they stay put.

I hope you have a nice vacation day.  If this is a sad day for you, I’m sending a prayer out that you’ll feel joy and sweetness and comfort and hope for beauty that will come.

 

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she dance

Aw. (Love CameraBag!)

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recital day

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Yesterday was recital day.  I’ll bet there were more hair buns yesterday on Earth than any other day of the year.   My daughter was lovely, lovely.

I’ve watched this for so many years now that I know how it’s all gonna go.  For two weeks before she is wired.  She moves constantly.  Always sort of rehearsing.  She can’t sleep.  And the gaggle of girls at the studio are all giggles and whispers and tears and hugs and jumping up and down and spinning and stretching and pointing their toes and sighing and massaging their muscles and snapping fingers and humming portions of songs.

It’s a hyper buzzing.

Then recital.

Then the crash.  Sleeping.  Sadness that another year is over.  For some dancers, this was their last recital.  Ever.

I hope they find a way to continue dancing, somehow.

The younger girls will miss the ones going off to college.  The older girls have been so kind to the younger ones; they will miss them too.

I love dance as a form of expression.  I love when a dancer moves beyond performing, then beyond entertaining, then into expressing.

I imagine someone could keep a lot of emotions all bottled up and locked away, but find a way to share them through dance.

 

This has been a sort of hard week.  Teenager stuff.  Imperfect parent stuff.  Learning stuff.  Don’t really know what God is trying to do, but I think I can safely assume He’s always in the process of making me more like Him.  Which is an honor.  I think I am learning how to pray more specifically for my kids–how to fight for them through prayer.

My husband got me this little sign.  I put it in my kitchen, and I love it so much.

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