Mountain Mama

Why we live here

One year ago, today:

Yesterday:

We ate brunch with friends who live in the Triangle--where we used to live. After brunch, they got in their car and headed up I-40 for the long ride home. Six years ago, we would have been doing the same, but we would have been lamenting the trip, at near tears for having to leave our beloved mountains. This time--as last year at this time--we instead turned our car toward those mountains, drove up the Blue Ridge Parkway to the top of the world, and breathed our gratitude.

Never shall we forget the blessings of this place.

To see the day

Saturday morning. Round of pancakes. Stepped outside to take the trash out and leaves crunched under my feet. They suddenly looked so beautiful, scattered across the deck like that, that I ran back in & grabbed my camera.

I spent the rest of the day under the spell of newly opened eyes. Vowed to see the day in all its lovely ordinariness.

At my house, and later at my mom's, these are the images I gathered. This is the life I saw around me.

Beautiful indeed.

Vacation

We're off on a family vacation: Road trip. One night in a hotel (with a pool!). A visit to the zoo (Elephants!). A week at the beach with friends. Sand. Surf. Seafood. An aquarium. Maybe an art gallery. More sand. More surf. More seafood. Sun.

Lots and lots of family time.

Choosing the moment

She got a new bike. With a bell.

She's been wanting one for some time, had already added it to her Christmas list, when her cousin showed up at Grandma's with just the thing, outgrown. "I have a bike for Owen. Is it okay to give it to her?" 

Of course she's thrilled. Paul pushed her up and down Grandma's road--the same road where he learned to ride. Back home it's round and round the house on the porch. Our road is rutted, gravel, too difficult for a learner to navigate.

Another day, after supper, she presented an idea. "Can you take the training wheels off my bike and let me ride around the porch?"

Paul, working on his computer, considered. "I don't think the porch is the best place to learn. We need to take you to the park to ride sometime."

"Can we go now?" she asked.

Paul looked at me, my face buried in my own computer. Dinner was done. It was two hours until bedtime. He was playing Sudoku, I was on Facebook. There was nothing pressing really, except inertia.

Clearly our attention was needed. So we all went. Barrett, too. Even my mom.

And although the whole scene has been replayed thousands of times each of a hundred years--a father running alongside a kid on wobbly bike--this time it was my kid. And my kid's dad. And my toddler chasing after them.

My family. Our moment.

I'm so glad I didn't miss it.

 

lessons in joy

Dad catches me coming into the building at work. He holds up a plastic grocery bag and grins.

"Got a treat for lunch."  He's excited as a young boy with a bag full of worms. (It's not worms.)

Later he spreads a newspaper across his desk, hands me a knife and a small jar of mayonnaise (Duke's, of course), two slices of soft bread.

He holds the tomato reverently--a beauty fresh from the garden this morning. Slices it thick, piles it on the bread. Lots of pepper, a little salt. Seeds and pulp drip onto the paper as he hands the first one over to me and makes another for himself.

As we each take a bite, closing our eyes for a moment, it strikes me: This is who he is. This is what he's taught me.

To savor. Enjoy. Take pleasure in the small things. See the beauty in the summer's first tomato sandwich, a bucket of purple blackberries, a hidden trillium,  the smooth speckled skin of a trout, a watermelon in the compost pile, a beautifully written sentence, a shared meal.

That a beautiful life is made of small moments of joy...noticed.

Weekend

Friday::Morning with Owen::Bookstore::Coffee with friends::Family drawing time at home::Shopping for father's day gifts with Grandpa::Can't wait till Sunday to give it to Daddy::Dinner at my dad's::Grilled pork shops and a grilled nectarine salad

 

Saturday::Early Father's Day pancake breakfast::Little girl in a grouchy mood::Her parents not handling it the best::So off we go on an adventure::Farmer's market, meet up with friends::Out to the river for a family day::Play::Picnic::Tubing::We see a wedding party::After the ceremony they all change and head upriver with tubes, the bride still wearing her crown and smiles::Storm threatens so we pack up::Ice cream on our way out of town::Home::Dinner again at my dad's

 

 

Sunday::Grouchy girl makes us all grouchy::Writing a Father's Day card proves a challenge for us all::At church we discuss The Lord's Prayer, the "Our father" part::I'm hoping Owen gets something out of it, but she's restless, not listening::To Asheville, Father's Day lunch at my in-laws'::Then to my mom's for a while::Out to meet my dad for big Chinese buffet (his favorite, for Father's Day) but we mixed-up the time and are too late, he's already eaten::Feeling bad and out of sorts and just missing connections with each other::We go our separate ways, Owen to Grandma's for the week (for camp), Dad on home, Paul and I and Barrett heading home, too, after a drive through town::Boo can't go to sleep after napping in the car, then wakes in the middle of the night with a fever.

Ordinary life. Real life. Still lovely.

Sisters and a little working-mama guilt

My girls can be oh so loving and sweet to one another sometimes.

And then sometimes, they're, well, oh so NOT loving and sweet to one another.

Especially when we have a new routine to get used to--Mama working, Daddy doing research, Barrett at a new preschool, Owen at a new camp, Grandma here to fill in the in-between hours. All of those changes out a bit of a strain on sibling--and family--relations.

For example, shortly after I arrived at work yesterday, I received the following email message from Paul:

I am currently engaged in a test of wills with Owen. She decided to drag out the cardboard blocks with the understanding that she had to put them away before we left for camp. Barrett came and took THREE of them and went back into the bedroom. This earned Barrett the title of 'meanest sister ever' and forced Owen to disavow any knowledge of the need to put the blocks away and to begin crying as though the world would end.

All was fairly quickly resolved. Barrett asked Paul to "make Owen smile again." My mom and both girls helped to put away the blocks. Everyone got off to their respective sites with pleasant enough attitudes.

And I tried not to feel guilty all day. 

Weekend plans (edited)

Next week I start my new job.

Next week is Owen's last week of her first year of school. Not that there will be any schooling to the week: Field Day, class picnic and water day, Kindergarten graduation. Then she'll be off to the beach with my mom. Still, it seems like she just started school yesterday, cliche though that statement sounds.

Next week, Barrett starts preschool camp. I'm quite nervous about this, especially as I won't be taking her those first days (Paul will). Actually, though, she'll probably do better that way. Honestly, I might do better, too. {Edited to add: Well, scratch that--I just received word that Barrett is not eligible for the preschool summer camp. It's for 4 and 5 year-olds. Just a misunderstanding. BUT that means I have nothing for her for summer except the same three-hours-two-days-a-week program as before and am scrambling to figure it out here at the last minute. UGH!}

Next week, Paul has to get busy with his summer of research. He has to come up with and make some progress on his dissertation topic by fall.

Next week the busyness of our summer hits full force.

But this weekend we're spending together, as a family. This weekend is for us.

And that's just the way I like it.

Our weekend

Friday:

Rainy. Hanging out with Barrett all day while Paul went to school. A trip to the bookstore; groceries at the big store in the neighboring town; home and reading our new books; much cooking and eating of wooden play food; some porch play; several dramas of the three-year-old ilk; picking up sister at school (the highlight of Barrett's day, usually); admiring the cocoon that Owen's show-and-tell caterpillar made while she was at school; sibling arguments; kiss and make up; more play.  Then Paul home for our first ever pizza-and-family-movie night.

Saturday:

Farmer's tailgate market for cucumbers; three gallons of strawberries (for jam); a question for the Bee Lady answered; hummus; dill spread; eggs; handmade soap; jumping in a bouncy house.

Cleaning house and getting ready for an evening dinner to say goodbye to Samantha (our babysitter), and Daisy and Maryann (our friends). Chatting, eating homemade lemon bars and strawberry shortcake, exchange of gifts, rushing our goodbyes for a baby's bedtime, just as well or we would have all been crying.

Sunday:

Up early and out to Asheville for church and lunch with Paul's family. Discovering their cherry trees full of ripened fruit left for the birds. Getting a few for ourselves and for my dad (who loves fresh cherries).

Home to make strawberry jam.

Quick salmon dinner, using our "bad" (didn't set) batch of marmalade as a sauce. Then Dad and Paul off to see Iron Man, while I give the girls a bath and put them to bed.

Folding clothes fresh from the dryer when Paul gets home, talking quietly together before bed.

Another lovely ordinary weekend.

Spring Camping Trip--Photo Update

Friday afternoon I sat in the pick-up line at Owen's school with my dog in the back, Barrett in her seat, my mom beside me, camping gear packed around everyone, and the canoe on top of the car. The window was down; the sun warmed my face; a breeze kept me from getting too hot, and Van Morrison's "Bright Side of the Road" was on the stereo. My husband and Dad and friends were waiting at the park nearby--their trucks similarly packed with stuff.

The weekend only got better from there.

There was the lake, of course. And the woods.

Cooking, eating, some wine, some champagne.

Lots of sitting. And talking. And reading. And sitting.

There was fishing, and swimming, and playing in the woods.

And on Sunday (our anniversary), a morning canoe trip on a still lake, with the sounds of an occasional fishing boat, our paddles, coyotes on the mountain, loons on the lake, and our own silent prayers of praise and thanksgiving.

Oh, and a chattering little girl in the front of the boat.

 But that was okay, because she loved it all, too.