Live Free

"Let's do this!"

When she FINALLY reached the beach, you know, sand dunes and all, where water and sand actually collide, she looked up at us, with her bucket and shovel in hand, and said, "let's do this!"  

I kid you not. And there we were again, Byron and I, in our usual understated demeanors, sharing quick glances with one  another in our "Ready for this?" expressions while trucking forward... Following our two year old as she witnessed The Big Beach for the very first time. With her eager and passionate energy engulfing us all, we put behind the long road trip and submerged ourselves in all the fun and wonder that the sea has to offer.  

I think the photos speak for themselves.   

Truly though, as Byron and I have a history of being less than enthusiastic beach goers, preferring mountains and forests, we were pleasantly surprised by how refreshing our little weekend by the sea really was. 

The crowds - minimal. Our little beach cabin - just perfect, really.  The gulf and the beach - gorgeous. The weather - sublime. 

Thanks, Bea for dragging us to the beach. It was just what we needed.  

 

The Big Beach

In our parts, the season of summer gets a bit of a head start from the rest of the thawing country. Though school is still is session, and the calendar insists upon six more weeks of spring - the weather is feeling increasingly and undeniably summery. Her nature shelf and seasonal books are witnesses to this transitional time of the year.

These days, the little one's basket o' books are filled with lovely, simple, beautiful illustrations of beach and water scenes. 

And nothing, (except perhaps illustrations of snow scenes) gets her so entralled. Eyes big, fingers pointing. "Look mommy, they're building sand castles." "It's the beach mommy!" "The ocean!" She fiercely loves water. 

So we're packing it up for a few short days, heading to the big beach, and giving this girl a chance to feel the sensation of toes in wet sand, coupled with the rhythmic crashing of waves. To inhale the salt air and feel the moistness of the ocean on her arms. To collect sea shells and rocks and rake piles of seaweed. And of course, to build sand castles until her little heart's content. 

She tells me we'll need our bucket, shovel, and swimsuit. Got it.  

Spring!

Pardon the tardiness of our Easter recap. Small issues in computer land had us off-line for over a week.  

In the weeks leading up to Easter, Bea asked me each morning, "Easter is coming today Mommy?" More than any other holiday thus far, she has really enjoyed the preparations and celebrations of Easter. Maybe it was all the books we read at home and at school. Tales about bunnies and eggs, chicks and duckies. Or the sweet little songs like, "John the Rabbit" and "Bunny Foo Foo" or growing wheat grass in straw Easter baskets and watching it grow tall and lovely in a matter of no time.  

I'm pretty sure it was all of this and more.

Nests, birdies, eggs, chickens, their eggs, gardens, seeds, life, growth, wildflowers, bees, bunnies, Mr. Sunshine...

What's not to like about the arrival of spring and the powerful sense of renewal and hope and life and love that this time of the year offers up to us. 

Such good stuff indeed.

There's so much I want to remember about this season, this year. 

My sweet one.

It's easy for me to be bugged out by the dreadfully hot, dry, and windy weather we are experiencing ALREADY. Honestly, ask anyone who knows me well. They'll vouch for my crankiness. 

But then all I have to do to perk up is to STOP and to pay attention to my obliviously joyful, wonderous, chatty little one and all is right with life. 

She's like that. She takes people's breath away. Just like when she was an eency weency baby, she still has the ability to make people stop and stare. It seems it is official: Byron and I are now Bea's mama and daddy. Feed store personnel, farmers, grocery store stock girls, cashiers, postal workers, and neighbors, know us not as Byron and Nichole but as Bea's mama and Daddy.  (i.e."Oh, your Bea's Daddy!" was one comment received this weekend.)  

She who prances in boots or sandals or most preferably -  bare feet.

 

Who dances in the wind. 

Who delights in life growing. 

Who sees all chickens as if they are the only chickens. 

Who climbs her daddy-made ladder to check for eggs, over and over and over and over... 

Who helps those around her whole heartedly and with such strong conviction. 

Who sings and kisses and plants seeds and has tea parties and plays doctor with Dolly. 

What a breath of fresh air you are to those who have the pleasure to live with you! 

 

You are divine, my sweet.

Oh, happy day.  

When I let myself

When I let myself dream - and dream big - this is what it looks like.

I think I'd like to live and work in this world.

When I was a girl, I remember knowing that this is what I wanted - after I spent enough time exploring, traveling, studying...

A life of work and rhythm.

Of simplicity and mindfulness.

Of beauty and function. 

The hard life. The good life. 

To me, there is a profound quality to appreciate about a working farm that maintains not only its purpose but a sense of elegance and aesthetic. Perfection. 

So there it is - my dream existence. 

Children roaming freely in pastures. 

A family garden.

A milk cow. Fresh cheese, butter, and milk. 

Little ones working alongside mama.

Spring time babies.

If we ever move away, I think this farm will be one of my greatest misses. I found this farm our first year here by way of a kindergarten field trip. And I fell in love. Every year since then, we try to return at least once. Some years, we've been fortunate to visit it a couple of times.

It's a working farm as it would have been a hundred years ago. It's a beautiful, hidden gem. Not over the top or amusement park feeling at all. Instead, very real and very soulful. We spent a perfect spring morning there a couple of days ago and we were three of a handful of visitors. 

We always leave thinking...pondering...inspired...to keep at it.  

There she goes!

I was about to write a post about my lack of energy and creativity these days.  And then I wrote a little letter to Bea and now I feel much better - much more positive. Besides, it's not in my character to focus on the lackluster side of life anyway. There's always some good hidden somewhere.  My 'good' these days just so happens to need a little tending too is all.  

I'm just getting around to posting about Bea's birthday week. It coincides with spring break here in Texas. And SXSW. 

As I mentioned in the last post, we spent most of the week in Louisiana. Surrounded by family. Which is always awesome. Especially to Bea. She loves her some family.  

If her birthday celebration(s) had any sort of theme to it (which it didn't because I'm so not a theme type person), it's easy to assume it was a transportation birthday. Celebrated with a vvveeerrryyy long car ride, a streetcar ride, a ferry ride, many golf cart rides, and a bus ride.  Each one of these rides thrilled my girl. Little Bea likes to be on the move and she especially likes anything that will move her about faster than her two little legs. 

Besides all the said riding, we squeezed in some good eating too. Bea had boiled crawfish for the first time. She ate more corn than crawfish which is to be expected for a young novice. But I'm sure the scale with tip the other direction in a few more years.  

I know she had a really super time visiting with all of grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles. It's so sweet to watch the relationships grow. She is the most loving and lovable little girl and it truly warms my heart to see how easy it is for her to love so many different people, especially since she doesn't get to see her extended family that often.  

On Tuesday, we celebrated her birthday at school. I read her birthday story. We sang our special birthday song as she held the Earth and walked around the sun. She did it so well, in pure Beatrix style: "All myself".  What a contrast to last year when I carried her around the sun.  We had banana bread muffins for her special birthday snack and she blew out her candles like a pro.  

There goes my baby! Ready or not!  

 

First hints of a new beginning.

On our morning walk yesterday, I took my camera with me because I had a hunch. We have had warm weather for almost the entire month of February. I figured that Mother Nature had done a significant amount of prodding and that perhaps I would be lucky enough to catch a glimpse of the first tiny signs of spring. And what a lucky girl I was!  

I couldn't help but hum the most perfect little spring song I learned last year at The Natural Child as I walked through the woods with Bea and Byron.  

Spring is coming, spring is coming. Birdies build their nest. Weave together straw and feather doing each your best. Spring is coming, spring is coming flowers are blooming too. Daisies, lilies, daffodils all are coming through. All are coming through.

 

It's Snowy!

"It's snowy, it's snowy, it's snowy!"  she hollered all day long.  This morning, she ran around the house to each room, peering out of each window to make yet, another reality check.  The wheels were turning rapidly in her head. Yep, it's there too.  Front yard, neighbor's roof, street, cars.  She couldn't get out the door fast enough.  Mama and daddy stumbled for coffee and long johns. "Babe, remember that hat I use to wear?" Yep. I showed Byron where our real winter stuff has been stored all these years.  

For months now, each day, Bea and I enjoy Winter. And each day, it seems, we discover something in the illustrations that we've never noticed before. She calls it her Snowy book. And it must be read each day even though there are no words and the story spills out differently each time.  Maybe that's why she loves it so.  

Today, I am sure, in her own little mind, she lived out some of the precious moments she has absorbed from Winter's pages as she discovered snow. I wonder what she was thinking as she spread her fingers through the snow for the first time.  Was she surprised by how cold it was? Was she mesmerized by the impartial presence of snow? By it's quietness and it's unyeilding strength? I'm sure she was. 

Truth be told, we received only an inch or two of the pretty, white stuff.  And by early this afternoon, it was already melting away rather quickly. Though I was a sad to say hello and goodbye to it so very quickly, Bea went outside in the afternoon with just as much enthusiasm as she did hours earlier. I asked her "Where's all the snow Bea?" I thought she'd pause with a moment of sadness as she realized it was all but gone. But no, she matter of factly pointed to a white island along the edge of the yard. "There!" Without judgement and a heart full of happiness. I want to be like her when I grow up! 

Living around her energy, her joy, her reverence for life and the big picture that all this really is, does a profound job of humbling a person. She humbles me. Time and time again.  

365:10 Great outdoors

I adore exploring the great outdoors with Beatrix. Whether we are in our backyard chasing chickens or at the nearby nature trails admiring the eccentric fowl, gathering sticks,pepples, and feathers nothing turns that frown upside better than fresh air and mother nature.  

I want her to know and love the outdoors not only when it's 80 degrees and sunny, but when it's humid, hot, and sticky or cold and damp. Already, her passion for water is alive and well.  "Splash" she says at the sight of puddles and streams!  I can't help but smile with approval. I'm proud that at not even two years old, she knows how to make a good splash from a puddle of water. Rain is miraculous occurrence that  deserves songs and dances for as long as it graces us with its presence. And - that when tossed into water a stone can do wonders for the ears and eyes - oh my - gurgles and ripples - who can get enough of that?

A couple of evenings ago, I was revisiting a book I love, Last Child in the Woods. I read a passage from one of the last chapters, one which resonates with me so deeply "The Spiritual Necessity of Nature for the Young."  The author describes a meeting he had with a rabbi, a Catholic priest, a Protestant Minister, and an imam to discuss parenting. The rabbi defined spirituality as being constantly amazed. I like that.  

I can only hope that Bea has many of those - moments of amazement - in her days. And I hope that these moments of amazement stay with her throughout her life, each one compiling and connecting to the other, grounding her, supporting her, as she becomes the person she is meant to be. And I like to think that taking her out for a winter hike on a cold and damp morning allows for such moments. One of the greatest joys to parenthood is to be present for these moments of amazement. In our adult mindsets, these moments can sometimes appear to arrive at inconvenient times or times that can just be easily overlooked.   But really, if we can step back, pretend, remember, imagaine we know childhood, then just sometimes we can catch a glimmer of the world through their lens. Boy, oh boy, this universe really is amazing and wonderous and mysterious and all knowing.  What a trip!  

Farewell 2010

 
I can only declare that 2010 was a year to savor. I'm so grateful for the many, many joyful moments that I've had the honor to live. It was another year of tremendous growth, of great health, and of an abundance of love. Nothing matters more to me. While I type this, my loved ones are peacefully asleep and I am astounded by the capacity of the heart to love.

A year comes and a year goes. We grow - some of us, ever so subtly, while others like the quickness of kudzu. I'm rightfully humbled quite easily these days. 

Winter

Spring 

Summer

Fall

Byron built a chicken coop. I mustered up the courage to continue the dream of the little school even though it meant forging ahead despite the loss of my partner and good friend. I miss the comraderie of working side by side with a kindred spirit, but now I know that my head can wear many hats. Bea, well, in case your new to this place, she's the one growing like kudzu. "A hug?" "A kiss?"  she insist before we part. "A bessing" (blessing) is a must before we begin a meal. "A sing a bus?" (Sing wheels on the bus?) when I check in on her after she awakes from some midnight coughing - smiling broadly, no less - like congestion is nothing to be bothered by. She's a gift in every way.  

What will 2011 bring to our family? I can't wait to discover the adventures, embrace the joy, and hold on tight for the surprises!   

Thank you to each and every one of you out there who takes the time to stop by, read, and comment. I love this space and I have loved getting to know you and your families. May your new year be filled with love, light, and laughter!