A little rabbit told me...

For your springtime viewing pleasure...

This little guy got out of his (her?) nest (den?) last spring and headed straight for the herb garden.  Nestled right down into my freshly sprouted oregano.  No matter now many times we moved the little fur ball it headed straight back into the bright green expanse of delightful smelling herbs.  So after his photo session I left the poor little thing alone.  I assume he has moved on to a position as sous chef in some rabbit culinary institute somewhere...

(p.s. I also entered this photo in the the Epiphanie Camera Bags Picture It photo contest. http://bit.ly/xN3Pqc and if you knew what was good for your amateur photog soul, you'd head over there and check it out!)

Over the weekend, it rained some

I am hoping your Monday finds you as full of good food, family fun, and love as ours does.  I had every intention of doing a travelogue for y'all today on a place that holds many memories for me.  But when we went on Sunday, well, it rained.  Then it rained some more.  Then it rained a little bit more.  And then it poured.  Then it sprinkled.

You get the idea.

There was no way I was going to take my precious camera out in that deluge and capture the adorable houses, lake views, gingerbread trim, and downright adorableness that is Lakeside, Ohio.  Instead, I'll share with you what I did manage to get.  Happy Monday!

On Saturday, we had the family strawberry festival.  Capped off with smores.  Over a fire.  Someone doesn't trust his daddy's fire making skills...

As the fire grew, so did his concerns...

Look out dad!

Finally, he abandoned this mess for a little game of "keep the football away from momma"

But came back when the signal for smores went up.

On Sunday, we used the bathing suit for rain dances.

And puddle splashes.

Then he made a run for it.

I'm outta here! To the lake!

Or right into time-out. 

Stupid rain!

Teamwork

Shhhhh....we're napping

From where I sit, I have a perfect view of a robin's nest.  It is tucked into the space between the soffiting and the downspout just outside our front door on our porch.  Usually robin nests are neat, well-kept affairs with nary a straw out of place.  This nest looks as though Pig Pen built it.  Strings blow in the wind.  Straw whisps out of it onto our porch.  It is a regular hot mess.  We were certain it was unstable, unable to support young life, and therefore didn't monitor it closely.  Yet, that momma bird sat watch.  She squawked at us whenever we dared set foot on our own porch.  She tucked in new twigs, string, and straw as her home blew apart.  And one day, I hear the faint yet familiar tweets of baby birds.  You cannot see them from a standing position, as the nest is quite high.  However, sitting here at my desk, you can see those little heads and beaks peek over the edge, straining for the offered food.  


What strikes me as lovely is the teamwork between dad and mom.  I didn't see much of him as she sat sentry during the gestation period.  But now, he works his tailfeathers off.  He flies to and fro, fetching the plumpest of worms (yes, they're plump...I can see em!) for his momma and babies.  He hands them off to her, and she feeds them to the babies.  Then she fluffs herself back out, settles down over those tiny heads, and waits for the next delivery (to come again in mere minutes). It is a rare occasion that both are absent from the nest.  Then all of the downy heads peek up, as if to say "Hey! It's cold out here! Bring back the blanket!"  


I love that the entryway of our home is guarded by the home of a small robin family.  I get they are not guarding our home, but maybe it is a sign that we have made such a lovely home here in the plains of Northwest Ohio, these robins cannot help but nestle in and build their family right along with us.  It is a nice notion, right?

To fill my soul

I spent my weekend in Cleveland with my husband and some of our closest friends.  To say it was wonderful would be an understatement.  We had an absolute blast.  I wrote an earlier post about my love for live music, and how it fills a place in my soul like no other.  Well, this weekend we had our fill. 


First, The Beachland Ballroom.  What a wonderful place to see a band or three.  The atmosphere in there was wonderful.  I felt as though I'd stepped into my iPhone's hipstamatic app, with the lighting, decor, and stage.  It was awesome. 

The opening act was from my hometown, Akron, Ohio.  Roger Hoover was a taste of the great show to come.  I have been to many concerts in my life, but this was the first one where I was stomping my feet from the first opener to the last.  As soon as Hoover started playing, my hips started swaying, fingers snapping, and feet moving.  I began down a road of four hours of non-stop dancing.  (and as soon as I get y'all a link for his music, I promise I'll send it your way-it is SO worth it!)  Sadly, I didn't get a photo of him playing, but the next time we go see him live, I promise I'll get you one.  

Shovels & Rope 

After a short wait, Shovels & Rope took the stage.  I had no idea what we were in for, as I have not seen them, nor heard an album.  Little did I know that by the end of their set I would be dripping in sweat from dancing like a fool and frantically searching my iPhone's iTunes app for albums to download.  The energy between Cary Ann & Michael (they're a husband/wife duo) was electric.  Later on, my husband and I talked about how this must have been what it was like to see Johnny Cash and June Carter Cash perform on stage together, so palpable was the sexual tension between them.  It simply draws you in to their show.  Then the voices they have; holy hell.  I could listen for hours upon hours.  Truly, they are a force that I'm certain will be one to reckon with on the greater music scene before we can blink.  I'm just feeling lucky enough to have witnessed them in a small venue like Beachland, because I believe they'll be bigger than big with voices and a performance like the one I witnessed.  Go and download their album, Shovels & Rope I promise you won't be sorry! 

Hayes & Cary Ann performing "Another Like You 

After a performance like Shovels & Rope, I was on the edge of my seat (well not seat literally-as it was SRO) for Hayes Carll to take the stage.  It wasn't long-the stage crews moved faster than any I've seen at concerts I've been to!  When the tall Hayes took the center stage position, flanked by his band, we were in for a two-hour ride that was filled to the brim with his Texas-singer/songwriter voice booming while the guitar strings were moving the crowd from swilling beer to swaying and dancing.  His set was filled with songs from every album.  I heard some of my old favorites (Beaumont from Trouble In Mind) and new ones I adore on his new album (Another Like You/Bye Bye Baby from Kmag Yoyo (& Other American Stories).  At one point, he called out to the crowd that he'd not expected us to be there, let alone to know the music quite so well...so feel free to make requests.  A flurry of titles began to rise forth behind me.  I've never seen such a joyful playing of music and interplay between band and crowd as I did that night.  I was a fan before, but now I will make it a point to see each of these bands whenever I can.  

The night ended at 12:30 for us...a sweaty, feet aching, beer fueled, totally enjoyed night.  For now, my live-music loving soul has been satiated.  For now.  But soon enough I'll need to seek out the next live show.  Hopefully I can snag one of these bands as they come close to us again.  Thanks to all for a spectacular show!

Signs of Spring

Spring has been in fits and starts here.  We've had precious few warm days. Many days of rain and wind. A few days of snow. As one of my co-workers pointed out, we are in the ugly duckling stage of the year-just after the beauty of white winter and just before the greening of spring arrives. Everything is brown and muddy. Well, driving to work today, I saw the first real sign of spring here in the farmland of Northwest Ohio-green winter wheat fields.  I can't explain it if you've never lived around them, but I can tell you this much-one day they are a pale, anemic green, then that afternoon or the next morning-poof!-supersonic green.  Lush, lovely, beautiful green of springtime has rushed into their short spears.  Soon those wheat fields will start growing like mad, bending and waving in the late spring sunshine.  There will be other growing and beautiful things then too-baby corn fields, daffodils, tulips, sweet peas, apple blossoms, and more.  But for now, like beautiful patches covering the bare spots, winter wheat fields are showing us that the warmth is coming.  While the rest of our world is still brown, dormant, and muddy, today the wheat fields are telling me to hold out hope.  Soon enough that spring warmth will creep northward and we too will share in its glory.

Getting greener by the second!

Digital Scrapbooking

I've spent the weekend in blissful doing nothings...and finishing my very first digital scrapbook.  Well first scrapbook of any kind really.  I hate all the cutting, pasting, and positioning (and mess) that comes with paper scrapbooking.  When my friend introduced me to the wonderful world of digital scrapbooking through Mixbook, well hellllooooo fun!  Take a peek at Jack's third year of life, in lovely, mess-free digital print.

| View Sample Photo Books | Create your own Photo Book

I just put the order in for a coffee table size of this, so when it comes, I will let you know how good Mixbook's products are!  

Story Pieces

My treasure

I have a blanket.  Okay, not the blankie I had as a little girl.  That square of satiny, soft loveliness has since gone the way of my teddy, my collection of Care Bears & Rainbow Brite, and my totally rad neon sunglasses.  But this blanket I posses now is made of special stuff.  It is the thing I grab in case of emergency.  It is what I want when I feel sick.  It is what I bundle up in whenever the house is cold.

You see, this is the afghan I saved from an untimely demise after my grandma passed away. 

I found it peeking out of a garbage bag in her garage, bundled with the items destined for Goodwill.  My dad had no idea what this afghan meant to me or my siblings.  This was the afghan that her sister knitted for her years ago.  It is a hideous shade of brown.  It is worn in spots.  Her sister knitted it while getting chemo for leukemia that eventually took her life.  It is the afghan she would wrap our feet in on cold winter days while rubbing them firmly to warm them up.  The same afghan she would bundle us in when we fell asleep on her "davenport."  It could be found in the closet between her front door and entryway door.  It could be depended upon, much like grandma.  Before saying one word, I snatched it out of that garbage bag and threw it in the front seat of my car.

Today, it rests on the back of one of our over-sized sage-green chairs in our living room.  It is in easy reach whenever you need a bit of comfort.  What is most special about it though is that, even after eight years, it still smells just like grandma's house.  We can't figure out why; it just does.  Nothing else I have from her house has held on to that distinctive smell-one of Pond's Cold Cream, Palmolive Dish Soap, Dippity-Do, the many lipstick brands she possessed, and the general warmth and love we found there.  Whenever my siblings visit, this is one of the first items they reach for.  I catch my son wrapped up in it once in a while.  And when I feel my feet tangled in its scratchy warmth on a cold winter day, I can almost feel her hands squeezing and kneading the cold right out of them. 

We never know what objects in our homes will become the treasured items to our children and grandchildren.  I'm sure grandma had no idea what this afghan meant.  Life will make these decisions for the future generations.  It may be the coffee mug we clutch each morning, the mixer that makes the holiday feasts, the beautiful wooden cutting board purchased as an anniversary gift, the garden tools worn with use, or even the cup you put milk in for your child each morning.  Each of these objects holds memories, small as they may be, they all tell stories.  What are your stories?  How do the objects in your life tell them?

Your 5th Year

As parents, we all know it isn't a job filled with funshine and roses.  (for the record, yes, I did mean funshine-as in the Care Bear, funshine bear) Parenting is hard, trying, exhausting, scary, panic-inducing, and overwhelming.  That's the ugly truth that no one tells you.  I mean, when I gave birth to Jack, everyone told me how much labor would hurt, how tired I would be afterwords, how starving I would be...but no one told me how I wouldn't be able to sit in an upright position for two full weeks.  Yeesh.  That needs to be in the manuals.  If there are any non-parents reading this, now you know.  Your bits will be a bit beyond the line of sore for a good long while.  I'm just sayin...


But parenting is also fun.  It is fun, wonderful, loving, emotional, exciting, thrilling, (gosh, this sounds like a Cedar Point commercial here...) and breathtaking.  Today I'm posting on our son, Jack's, fourth birthday.  He has now existed on this earth for four years.  We are entering the fifth year of his life.  I look back and cannot believe it has been that long, but has felt so utterly short. 


In the past year, we have made huge strides, dearest son.  One year ago, it was still diapers and sippy cups.  Now it is big boy underwear and cups without lids.  As you turned three, you began to make the transition from toddler to boy, and it showed.  It showed in your lumbering up and down the stairs, but your insistence to "do it by myself," in your desire to help get dressed each day, but inability to put your arms and legs in the right place each time, in your wiggly ways when we were out, how you insisted on walking next to the cart but were never able to quite do it.  Now I look at you and see a boy who is growing into a helpful little man.  Just tonight, you helped me search for items at Target and the craft store without (much prompting) and never had to get put into the cart.  You gave your own order at McDonald's (your birthday meal of choice).  When we got home, you helped me put together your treat bags for your classmates tomorrow.  You helped me unload and reload the dishwasher, upset that I wouldn't let you put in the detergent pack because it wasn't full enough to run.  When I finally let you sit down to watch some of your beloved Nick Jr. you wanted me to snuggle you.  Be still my momma heart.  


We laid there on the bed together, much like we did four years ago this very day, snuggled up together.  You wrapped in a blanket then, your own blankie now.  That early morning you were born, you stole my heart.  Each day you do something that amazes me, makes me melt, and yes, even frustrates me beyond words.  But mostly little man, you make us laugh our heads off.  What we didn't know before you arrived, but all can honestly say now, is that you are the missing piece we were looking for.  You are the best boy, the perfectly imperfect one to complete us.  We love you so very much, our four-year-old little man.  Happiest of happy birthdays.  

Our little chunker four years ago

And the handsome man you've become

Broke Down

So, much like Sue Heck in this week's "The Middle", I should ground myself.  I have managed (in less than one week) break my iPhone and our wireless mouse.  This rendered our computer useless and my iPhone front facing camera fractured and screen very fragile.  I am a walking train wreck.  To top it off, today I wake up with a raging case of sore throat, sick eyes (you know, the kind that feel like flaming rocks every time you blink) and ears that I swear had hot pokers stuck into them while I slept.  This has not been my week. 


Sickness is the scourge of my profession.  Working in schools, every kid at some point will wipe their nose with their hand, then touch your desk.  I do my best to keep my hands clean.  But couple my job, with a child who has started pre-school and I'm doomed.  This makes either my fourth or fifth bout of sickness in the school year.  


So, I'm watching The Last Song today.  If only to see my Tybee Island.  To feel some semblance of summertime warmth when I'm aching, have the chills, and want to plunge my head into an ice bath.  It's brutal.  


If you're feeling like me, here's a picture to cheer us all up.  A little Georgia love for a cold winter day.

Tybee Sunrise

Under a Blanket

Oh January, you are a quiet month.  Introspective.  Filled with chilly mornings hot cups of coffee, fluffy sweaters, fires in the fireplace, seed catalogues, and a smattering of snow delays and closings.  January is not a month you can rush through around here.  It forces you to take it slow, be it driving, walking, cooking, even getting up and around in the mornings.  If I were forced to boil what I adore about the Midwest into one single thing it would have to be the difference in the seasons.  It really forces us to appreciate all the different things about them, embrace the summertime warmth, the crisp autumn days, the first crocus in the springtime, and yes, the snowfall and biting cold winds of January.  This morning I crawled out from under warm blankets to be greeted by fresh snow and a perfect sunrise.  Instead of staying in my fuzzy pajama pants and sipping coffee for a few hours while reading my papers, I quickly got dressed and grabbed my camera and captured a lovely sleepy January morning here in the middle.  A garden under a blanket of snow, resting up for a productive spring and summer.  A splash of red from our birdhouse.  Frost binding together spent blossoms.  A frozen creek winding through our fields.  Oh Ohio, you are always beautiful to me.

| View Sample Photo Books | Create your own Photo Book