places

Out on the freeway as the dust of night stretches her lonely palms across the Los Angeles horizon.

 The windows in my VW wagon are wide open and my left hand, placed slightly ajar out the window, moves up and down in the racing wind along the highway as my right hand steers.  As much as this urban expanse is at times a disruptive blight on a once pristine desert, my heart swells with love for this place I call home.  It is a jumbled chaotic mix of heat and humanity: of palm trees, racing cars and soaring aspirations.  I breath in the cooling night air, tasting the plumes of passing diesel engines and the song of sweaty broken hearts. 

 It makes no sense to love this place, no logic at all, but somehow, I do. 

hope you are well my friends. xo

Oh! The Tale End of Summer!

Oh Summer! The weekend before last, a friend and I picked and canned tomatoes. I met her outside her home in the early morning hours and we traveled out to the Valley to a farm where, on Labor Day weekend, you can pick your own roma tomatoes for 25 cents a pound. It was still cool when we arrived at the farm, though you could feel the hint of the day's heat steadily tugging round your neck.

There was something so striking about the long, early morning shadows stretched across the field. Children were darting in and out of the rows and the faintest drops of dew still hung on spider web's strung across the wooden posts.

autumn bends near

school is in. autumn bends near. 

in the early morning hours,  I forget the colors of Fall, only wanting to linger on the crushed flowered smells of summer. the hot haze. napping house afternoons.

in southern california, autumn arrives, but only in faded colors and muted summer memories. there are moments, in this hot heat and rounding end of summer, that I long for quiet, crisp afternoons, a catch of foggy breath in the morning and the brilliant reds and oranges of the oak and maple.

how are things these days for you?
xxoo

a quiet creature

that i could have the chance to fit you into the palm of my hand. 

have your feather light wings bless my skin.

 burnt orange against my unholy white. 

whiskered, and whisked, that you nudge me along, 

off my path, off the beat of my breath. 

sing song swing of summer

details are subtle. lawnmower outside. plants need watering. music from the oldest's stereo. exhausted, the middle is up, yawning, waking from a mid-day nap. the youngest, hiding out playing games in his makeshift fort.

slowly returning

we will be slowly returning back to california today. driving back through my beloved mountains and then out back across the desert. we will do it in stages. letting this time out here, pull quietly away from our physical selves, to in turn, rest in our memories of summer.

xxoo

29 of 52 :: portraits of the boys

the boys in their element, in the mountains of colorado.
               The oldest is scheming with his youngest brother to help the younger build a "dam" with sticks and rocks in the creek. The youngest is working hard on his dam while the older two are hiking with their dad. And the middle, happy as a clam having caught a lizard.

blog love: Erogene's glorious captures of her two littles; Belinda's beautiful black and white captures of her three; Greer's beautiful girls outside in the winter;  and sweet little smith all tuckered out.

how has your week been? xxoo

what is happiness

happiness is a walk in the woods with my boys, high above the world. contentment. happy lucky me watching them build dams. running with their dad. freeing themselves, momentarily, of the chains of the day to day. stretching out, making-up stories, heralding their imagination to the moon.

mothering, a round, full circle

in a round.
in a circle.
i come back around
to my childhood,
to my home,
looping back,
to the beginning,
to the place where my mother's illness grew.
where the ALS* spread slowly,
taking her body away from her,
taking her away from us.

like the seasons that circle us,
where the cycles encircle us.
round, i spin back
and also forward,
dusting away the thick motes of memory
and the holding pool of hope in my hand.

so i come back,
back around, in a circle,
walking through my childhood
my home. circling around in my mother's thoughts.
circling around death
 and life.

and the strength of my children.
and the strength in my children,
circles, back around,
back around, from my mom to me.
a circle, round, holding me
in.

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*ALS is also known in the states as Lou Gehrig's Disease, however abroad it is know as MND (Motor Neuron Disease). There were many visits to Colorado last summer and fall as my mother was dying from ALS. She died this past November of 2012. This is my first visit to Denver since her death. So in this trip, I am very much thinking of her.  

linking in with Lou for her Nature in the Home Series. 

hope you all are well. xxoo

rain along the way.

As we traveled along the road to Colorado, big dark clouds gave way to rain; much needed in this dry drought ridden area.  The forrest fires have been intense this summer out here in the west. The sky seemed to be hiding the much needed rain. We all watched as the ground opened up and drank in the much needed moisture; the desert plants seem to blossom with green right before our eyes and the dry soil became dark and fertile once again. The rich red hues were made glorious by the dark skies and pelting raindrops.

across the desert. into the sky.

the sky became a doorway. looming large around us.
my eyes opened to the journey ahead, across the desert.
a starting point into my heart and an opening of my soul.

and the desert. 

whispering ghosts of lives lived and lost.  

stories built up and broken down. 

battered in the sun, tempered in the rain, 

racing in time and memory.  

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joining in with bedsidesign for foliophoto.
are you traveling these days? where are you going? xxoo

27 of 52 :: portraits of the boys

photos above: the younger two, up to imaginative mischief in the back yard.

photo below: the oldest, interrupted while reading, and very much looking the part of the oldest.

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blog love from last week's portraits: Luckybeans dapper three. They look so clever and smart in the pair of glasses they found// Little Beds sweet photos of her two// This darling sweet boy standing on his two feet. The joy radiates from his sweet smile// These two. Max's sweet babes, one fishin', the other sittin'.// The joy and silliness over at Little Buckles. The colors are so vibrant and these two are beyond cute.

how has your week been?  I would love to know. xxoo

well hello july!

Oh the magic of July,
                     the long stretch of summer and all of her freedom.
A month defined by no school whatsoever, blissful heat, long days, swimming, & playing. It is in these sweet moments that I imagine that life as it is could stretch on forever. I ignore the siren call of the return to school in August, instead I dream of foraging new adventures with the boys, digging deep in gardens and late evenings under the stars.  I must reassure you, so that I don't represent any sort of false magical tale, that is not always cheery here. There is grumpiness, and sometimes the days seem too long with a lack of activities to conjure up, but in this first day of July, it is so delightful to dream of adventures ahead and linger over the memories already made.

What will be a part of your memory making this month? School holidays? Summer sweat? Hot stifling rooms and the whirring of a fan as it gently moves the air, trying so hard to cool over heated bodies.  Any mucking amidst creek banks or wading into cool blue pools? Or is it winter there? An eager approach to the days slowly getting longer?  A holding onto ear muffs, hats and scarves during brisk walks by the shore?
                         I would so love to know. xxoo

26 of 52 :: portraits of the boys

if not for summer when else would we crush the grass with our bare feet? 

hide out among the tree tops,

sing out to the birds, 

make friends with the worms over turned in the mud? 

summer is for lazing. 

        and lounging.

for scrambling up creek banks, 

poolside shivers,

whittling poles for fishing, 

learning how to whistle,

and the first wiggle of a loose tooth.

all for summer and the bare chested, 

                                                     bare footed boys 

                                                                            sprouting

                                                                                      in the splendid sun. 

the youngest: in our clementine tree with his friend.

the middle: trying very hard to work on his whistle.

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blog love from last week: Helen's sweet girl trying out her laugh. The joy in the photo is contagious.

 Joann's gorgeous children. I know those looks in my house so well.

this beautiful photo from the blog Still Moving Swiftly. 

Gretchen's sweet back and white photos of her two. 

Kate's sweet photos of Sophia and Alba.

 Cassie's beautiful brood. So happy amongst the waves. 

xxoo

P.S. so I know you have heard...google reader says goodbye July 1st. There are many ways we can stay friends! look to the left and follow me or find me on bloglovin', feedly, instagram, G+ or facebook! xxoo

tasting :: happiness

undefined happiness seeps into us like the icing
of chocolate cake melting on the top of our mouth.
it spreads a warm, low humming, soft soothing sensation of joy.

then comes the pop of the raspberry, bright and sweet,
exploding next to the melted chocolate on the languid tongue.

sometimes the bright berry cancels out the happiness;
sometimes the sweet cheeky raspberry brings it in closer.

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what are some some seasonal flavors you are tasting?

hope all is well as you wind down your week. 

xxoo

midweek messiness :: white wondering

I want nothing more these days than my house to be clean scrubbed white with the scent of fresh lily white roses and the stung smell of lavender and lemon clinging to the sheets.

I wonder why white is the quintessential color of summer for so many of us. After these last few days of impossible messes, I am starting to think that my color of choice for the summer should be a dark muddy gray instead. Something to blend and hide the stains of summer.

Alas, I think nothing will be white again, in this dirtied berried busy buoyed house clinging to unbleached, fast, muddied colored lines.  Perhaps not until the boys are sent off to school in the fall. Perhaps, even then, my hope is futile.

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creatively coloring the summer days with my merry men.
linking with Lou.

xxoo

an order :: a summer decree of chaos

and unto us, decreed by the order of summer,
there shall be a slow churning of chaos in our veins.
an unpinned, uncertain future of days that comes with tightrope walking
over a vast open field full of dark dew, fairy-ed fireflies, mint stung clover, and pennyless thoughts.

vague plans crowd our dream filled memories;
there is no bridge across the channel
to sensibility, instead we must hang down upon it,
muck our way through the crowded
days, no direction, no compass,
        tromping through the moored wet grass
        clinging petals at the hem of our soaked feet

until.

until we pull ourselves up
into our desks at autumns gate.
sweaty legged in scratchy classroom air,
blow the shavings of wood and crushed lead off our pencils,
sitting down to scribble instruction once more.