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My friend Brooke is gifted in all things classy, homey, and delicious. Check out her blog for humble inspiration and interesting decorating trends;)
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Monday, October 24, 2011
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Why I love Fall
Ma' boys, att Rudd Farm where we went on our first ever pumpkin patch adventure!
photo by Rachel Darst
One Fine Day
I can't believe I didn't notice them myself, but it took my friend Rachel pointing out the crunchy leaves today for me to open my eyes and see them. Cutting through the Science Center parking lot, all around us was the tapestry of brown and red and orange and gold. The colors of my home and the colors of Autumn are one and the same because this is the time of year when I finally sink into my own. With layers of sweaters and jackets and socks and jeans I feel uninhibited and comfortable. I happily leave behind the sticky film of a Southern summer and don the layers of Winter's approach. I do not mind the early nights and nose-reddening winds. Today I wore socks all day, never had to shed them, and when my little boys were snug in their beds for nap time I sat in the sunroom and listened to the wind play its familiar song on my wind chimes right outside, softly clinking pipes whose song is more familiar than a lullaby and more tranquilizing than hot buttered rum.
A good friend once said that a bass player is the one in the band that everyone forgets about, but whom if he were gone would be noticeably missed. I think that is Autumn. If not for the mosaic of colors fluttering about our heads, and the acorns that catapult down like a parachuting SWAT team this, my favorite season, would be missed. Autumn would be lost amid the hot, sensual sauciness of Summer and the blissfully bitter cold of Winter, Christmas. If not for my friend pointing it out I might have kept waiting for it to hit me over the head (which it later did in the form of an acorn careening straight out of a forty foot tall oak tree and straight onto the top of my head; I'm just glad it didn't hit the kids).
One grievance I have against North Carolina is that I have to wait so long for this beloved time of year, whereas in Maryland the Fall couldn't wait to come park itself right alongside the shiny backpacks, newly sharp pencils, and brand new Keds. In North Carolina Summer is so reluctant to release its humid tentacles that by the time the leaves start to fall they are already dead and Winter is already checking its watch, waving its number in the deli line.
Nonetheless, today the leaves did reach up and grab me by my sock-clad toe, acorns fell and I didn't miss it. I spent two perfect hours with good friends seeing all the animals, from oversized turtles who look like army tanks to the sleek tigers in whose eyes I gaze and feel unbelievably second-rate. After a sweet time together I went to the allergist for my weekly shot and crossed over a tiny river of red leaves, so shiny I'm surprised Jonathan didn't mistake them for candy. I had to look up and make sure they were actually coming from trees because they were so beautiful it seemed like a trick, as if maybe someone who longs for Fall like I do got down on hands and knees and painted them that way.
After dinner we took a walk and had to bundle the baby in a coat and blanket, and the neighbors wore down vests or zip-up jackets. And then, when I headed to meet up with friends over coffee and talk about books, I enjoyed driving down a dark road at seven-thirty pm, in a car so empty of anything but me that my thoughts could roll out of my head like a roll of wrapping ribbon, spinning out in shiny curls of red. I ordered a pumpkin spice latte and watched my two friends talk animatedly about books in their cozy sweatshirts, and then we had to rush to the car to get out of the cold when we said our goodbyes. The flavor of pumpkin and the bite of the cold followed me to my car and I'm just so glad I had my girl friends today to get me out of the house and into the leaves, under the acorns, and into the coffee shop; I came startlingly close to missing the coming of Fall.
A good friend once said that a bass player is the one in the band that everyone forgets about, but whom if he were gone would be noticeably missed. I think that is Autumn. If not for the mosaic of colors fluttering about our heads, and the acorns that catapult down like a parachuting SWAT team this, my favorite season, would be missed. Autumn would be lost amid the hot, sensual sauciness of Summer and the blissfully bitter cold of Winter, Christmas. If not for my friend pointing it out I might have kept waiting for it to hit me over the head (which it later did in the form of an acorn careening straight out of a forty foot tall oak tree and straight onto the top of my head; I'm just glad it didn't hit the kids).
One grievance I have against North Carolina is that I have to wait so long for this beloved time of year, whereas in Maryland the Fall couldn't wait to come park itself right alongside the shiny backpacks, newly sharp pencils, and brand new Keds. In North Carolina Summer is so reluctant to release its humid tentacles that by the time the leaves start to fall they are already dead and Winter is already checking its watch, waving its number in the deli line.
Nonetheless, today the leaves did reach up and grab me by my sock-clad toe, acorns fell and I didn't miss it. I spent two perfect hours with good friends seeing all the animals, from oversized turtles who look like army tanks to the sleek tigers in whose eyes I gaze and feel unbelievably second-rate. After a sweet time together I went to the allergist for my weekly shot and crossed over a tiny river of red leaves, so shiny I'm surprised Jonathan didn't mistake them for candy. I had to look up and make sure they were actually coming from trees because they were so beautiful it seemed like a trick, as if maybe someone who longs for Fall like I do got down on hands and knees and painted them that way.
After dinner we took a walk and had to bundle the baby in a coat and blanket, and the neighbors wore down vests or zip-up jackets. And then, when I headed to meet up with friends over coffee and talk about books, I enjoyed driving down a dark road at seven-thirty pm, in a car so empty of anything but me that my thoughts could roll out of my head like a roll of wrapping ribbon, spinning out in shiny curls of red. I ordered a pumpkin spice latte and watched my two friends talk animatedly about books in their cozy sweatshirts, and then we had to rush to the car to get out of the cold when we said our goodbyes. The flavor of pumpkin and the bite of the cold followed me to my car and I'm just so glad I had my girl friends today to get me out of the house and into the leaves, under the acorns, and into the coffee shop; I came startlingly close to missing the coming of Fall.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Hannah digs in
Allow me to explain the title of my blog. I love to write, in fact I sometimes wonder at the fact that I chose Spanish over English as my major. The weaving of English words exhilirates me. Both the study and the practice of writing could easily occupy hours of my day. Nonetheless, I inherited a distracted method of housekeeping from my mother. When we see something that needs doing, it is hard to walk by it. Therefore, "piddling" occupies much of my free time. I piddle from Pottery Barn.com to Pottery Barn Kids.com to OH!! Williams-Sonomahaven'tbeenthereinawhile. I piddle from unloading the dishwasher to cleaning the counters to scrubbing that goshdarn spot on the floor to OH! Ihaven'tvaccumedinaweek. I piddle catching up on emails to addressing thank you notes to OH!! canibuystampsonlinelet'slookthatup. You get the picture. The same way you felt reading those run-on words is the way I feel at the end of my kids' naptime many days, "What did I just do?"
When I sit down with the computer and commit to staring at that white screen as rapid-fire black print begins to fill it up like grass clippings shooting out from the mower and peppering the lawn I have to put the piddle-ables in life aside. It takes more tenacity than I am often willing to exhibit. Like many things in life, reluctant tenacity begets beautiful results and I always feel crisper, like walking through orange leaves on a Fall day, when I am finished writing. For this reason I owe all of you persistent readers a debt of gratitude for asking this of me, this that I love.
There has been so much to inspire me this Summer. A baby growing with always new chubby rolls, a house beginning to sigh and settle into its new identity as our home, a new church literally bursting with vitality: these are just the window trappings of a Summer I will not soon forget.
A story much better told by Clint himself, we nearly lost dear friends in a car wreck two weeks ago. I know that death is a reality always but it felt bold, as if it were a flashing sign in Times Square or written in red letters. August fourteenth, also my parents' twenty-ninth wedding anniversary, will take a long time to fade.
While seeing our friends recover from this near-tragedy was the low point, (though probably a high point in terms of seeing Jesus at work), there has been a lot of joy in our summer. As you saw in a recent post, Josh and I took the kids to Myrtle Beach back in June. A first for our family, it was hugely rewarding to go on our first real "vacation" adventure together. Complete with a trip to Urgent Care and a pneumonia scare, I would say we toughed it out and came out on top. We also spent a long weekend in sunny Fort Myers with my folks and REALLY relaxed. Golf, poolside, outlet shopping, homecooked (not by me) dinners all coalesced perfectly to energize us before we headed back to our new home for more unpacking, organizing, and settling in.
One of the sweetest things about this Summer has been seeing our friends in different contexts. The Jonkers visited us here in Greensboro for the first time since they've had children, and seeing their kids together with the Adams', Dukes, and Disneys was priceless. Friends that stick are gifts. Friends that stick and are willing to enter your world and try your life on for size, even for just a moment, are miracles.
This past weekend we left Jonathan with Marmee and Dedad and headed to Chapel Hill for the night with the Brian and Emily Disney. I'd dare say we did Franklin Street justice. When we headed out to walk around campus in a perfect summer evening breeze, the rain began to crescendo. We ducked into a bakery and bought some cupcakes. Eating that cupcake in the rain with one of my dearest friends was blissful. The night didn't end with wet baked goods however. We had scrumptious Italian in a small restaurant covered in ivy and set among old brick buildings, laughed hard with a new friend, conquered competition at the foosball table, and I personally finished the night with a chocolate martini and pizza Pokey Stix. All in all it was solid good fun.
Not every day can be July Fourth. We have had a grand fireworks show called "Life as we know it" this summer and I think now we will start to settle down. After all of these adventures I am ready to sink into a big chair with a good book and enjoy the regularity of things. Although, it may look more like being tackled on a big couch by two little rascals and Where the Wild Things Are. I'll take it.
When I sit down with the computer and commit to staring at that white screen as rapid-fire black print begins to fill it up like grass clippings shooting out from the mower and peppering the lawn I have to put the piddle-ables in life aside. It takes more tenacity than I am often willing to exhibit. Like many things in life, reluctant tenacity begets beautiful results and I always feel crisper, like walking through orange leaves on a Fall day, when I am finished writing. For this reason I owe all of you persistent readers a debt of gratitude for asking this of me, this that I love.
There has been so much to inspire me this Summer. A baby growing with always new chubby rolls, a house beginning to sigh and settle into its new identity as our home, a new church literally bursting with vitality: these are just the window trappings of a Summer I will not soon forget.
A story much better told by Clint himself, we nearly lost dear friends in a car wreck two weeks ago. I know that death is a reality always but it felt bold, as if it were a flashing sign in Times Square or written in red letters. August fourteenth, also my parents' twenty-ninth wedding anniversary, will take a long time to fade.
While seeing our friends recover from this near-tragedy was the low point, (though probably a high point in terms of seeing Jesus at work), there has been a lot of joy in our summer. As you saw in a recent post, Josh and I took the kids to Myrtle Beach back in June. A first for our family, it was hugely rewarding to go on our first real "vacation" adventure together. Complete with a trip to Urgent Care and a pneumonia scare, I would say we toughed it out and came out on top. We also spent a long weekend in sunny Fort Myers with my folks and REALLY relaxed. Golf, poolside, outlet shopping, homecooked (not by me) dinners all coalesced perfectly to energize us before we headed back to our new home for more unpacking, organizing, and settling in.
One of the sweetest things about this Summer has been seeing our friends in different contexts. The Jonkers visited us here in Greensboro for the first time since they've had children, and seeing their kids together with the Adams', Dukes, and Disneys was priceless. Friends that stick are gifts. Friends that stick and are willing to enter your world and try your life on for size, even for just a moment, are miracles.
This past weekend we left Jonathan with Marmee and Dedad and headed to Chapel Hill for the night with the Brian and Emily Disney. I'd dare say we did Franklin Street justice. When we headed out to walk around campus in a perfect summer evening breeze, the rain began to crescendo. We ducked into a bakery and bought some cupcakes. Eating that cupcake in the rain with one of my dearest friends was blissful. The night didn't end with wet baked goods however. We had scrumptious Italian in a small restaurant covered in ivy and set among old brick buildings, laughed hard with a new friend, conquered competition at the foosball table, and I personally finished the night with a chocolate martini and pizza Pokey Stix. All in all it was solid good fun.
Not every day can be July Fourth. We have had a grand fireworks show called "Life as we know it" this summer and I think now we will start to settle down. After all of these adventures I am ready to sink into a big chair with a good book and enjoy the regularity of things. Although, it may look more like being tackled on a big couch by two little rascals and Where the Wild Things Are. I'll take it.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Summer Snapshots
Blue casts post-surgery, pre-braces. Morning cuddle time:)
Wake Forest and crabs: I wonder who dresses the fellas...
"Mama, sometimes Jonathan is... interesting."
Buds Charles and Jonathan. Keepin' it chill.
Aunt "Ria" and William.
Grandy + books = YES!!
We love when Poppa comes to visit!
Wine with my sister is a good evening.
Josh and Hannah take the boys to Myrtle!
We came. We saw. We conquered!
Girls night! Natalie, Hannah, Katie, Kristen, Jesse. Thanks Jesse!
Cousins Morgan, Leah, Jonathan.
Reading with Marmee!
William Kyle Adams and Kyle Christopher Ficker.
The adventure I sought
I married a practical man. A down-to-earth, responsible, and nearly unflappable man. Adventuresome is not an adjective I would use to describe him, and so the heart within me that is ever searching for my own wardrobe into distant lands is having to find adventure in the nearby and not-so-crazy.
This last month has provided the opportunity for a few gray hairs, or perhaps something more... To be honest neither my husband nor myself would mind a few gray hairs. He would begin to look his age and I would have another blog-worthy anecdote. I digress. In the last month I have travelled hundreds of miles, seen Niagara Falls, bought a house, travelled a couple hundred more miles, sat at the hearth of dear friends, packed up my house, been evicted from current house by putrid dying rodent, returned to house and continued to pack up closets, clothes, and toys, and all during the record breaking heat that has swept the East Coast and tipped its hat to old friend North Carolina.
We are tired.
Yet, as we piled children and suitcases back into the car the other night to seek refuge from the stench of a dying bat, Josh smiled at me. "Life is an adventure," he said.
All I could do was smile back. After all, I have asked for unexplored lands, whitewater rafting, trips to Europe, and perhaps a bareback ride through Colorado mountains. Its hard not to see that saddling the Toyota with suitcases and sleeping next to our children in the proverbial campground of others' homes is quite an expedition. Add to it that we are displaced and without waffle maker or frying pan for the next week and I let out a silent breath of laughter.
Life is an adventure.
This last month has provided the opportunity for a few gray hairs, or perhaps something more... To be honest neither my husband nor myself would mind a few gray hairs. He would begin to look his age and I would have another blog-worthy anecdote. I digress. In the last month I have travelled hundreds of miles, seen Niagara Falls, bought a house, travelled a couple hundred more miles, sat at the hearth of dear friends, packed up my house, been evicted from current house by putrid dying rodent, returned to house and continued to pack up closets, clothes, and toys, and all during the record breaking heat that has swept the East Coast and tipped its hat to old friend North Carolina.
We are tired.
Yet, as we piled children and suitcases back into the car the other night to seek refuge from the stench of a dying bat, Josh smiled at me. "Life is an adventure," he said.
All I could do was smile back. After all, I have asked for unexplored lands, whitewater rafting, trips to Europe, and perhaps a bareback ride through Colorado mountains. Its hard not to see that saddling the Toyota with suitcases and sleeping next to our children in the proverbial campground of others' homes is quite an expedition. Add to it that we are displaced and without waffle maker or frying pan for the next week and I let out a silent breath of laughter.
Life is an adventure.
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