Live Free

On 35.

I had a birthday last weekend. Big 35! I started to blog about it at the time, but then saved the post into my huge list of drafts. I actually went back to read some of those drafts. There are some good ones that looking back now, I should have published. It's hard to click publish all the time. Lots of bigness goes on beyond what is published here. And for me, it takes a lot of courage to talk about most of it to the general and invisible public. 

I can't believe I'm 35. Well, if I stop at look in the mirror long enough, I can definitely see the evidence. Lines on the face, more and more gray hair, a softer physique all whisper the truth. But me, the person beyond this shell of a body, can within moments, lose track of the years of experience, the people and places that have influneced me and have helped to shape me into the person I am now. In those brief moments, I'm just me. My mother's daughter. A skinny, little girl. A quiet, akwkward, contemplative soul who likes to sit and listen.

I'm mostly still that same person. But not entirely. As I lived a few more decades, I'm a little less akward and a little more comfortable in my own skin. I still love to listen, but I can also feel the stirring inside of me for the want to share.  

I am surprisingly (to me) quite content with my place in this world. Mostly because I try to remember that everything I need and love is here, with me in one way or another. And that sometimes we just have to decide to be the person we want to be. I often suck at being that person. An empty cup will bring out the worse, I'm learning. But I try very hard. And some days, I honestly feel like I don't even need to try because I look around me and I'm surrounded by goodness, beauty and love. It's the many little moments of our days that make up a lifetime. Moments of glee and moments of quiet pause, sprinkled here and there, that feel up every nook and cranny of my heart and make this life whole and full.

 

four seasons since

On the eve of autumn a year ago, we did this. What a year it has been of building a home, and growing up our family. Four seasons have come and gone and we've travelled all the way around the sun since then. 

In the late evenings just as Beatrix nods off to sleep and the house has it's first chance of the day to fall quiet, Byron and I can both be found at rest, listening to the stillness. We don't always speak of it, but I know we both sense the future in our bones, and amongst these walls. That one day, our days will be filled with this sort of quietness. Day in and day out. Season after season.

Perhaps I'll be fortunate enough to still be dancing with the evening light as it peers through our living room leaving only blurry and soft shadows. And perhaps my thoughts will sway between the two worlds of past and present. Weaving in and out, amidst the whirling, twirling moments of the future's past and the steady, contemplative ones of the future's present. Who knows? None of us do.   

Just maybe, this first year in our home leads to many more, even decades, I can only dream of. In our little house with big windows, in a small Texas town, who would of thought this is where all that living just might happen? 

 

after dinner serenity

Nearly every evening right after dinner, Byron bathes Beatrix, while I am on kitchen clean-up duty. It's one of my favorite parts of the day because oftentimes, it's usually the first time in the day that I find myself alone in my thoughts. Since he is with her, I can whole-heartedly block out the squirmy, tired behavior, the explanations for hair washings, the choosing of pajamas, and on and on. In those 20 minutes, I can focus on scraping the leftovers off of our plates. With my dishcloth in hand, I can rub dish after dish clean in a sinkful of warm, soapy water. Instead of the chatter, I can listen to the clanking of dishware and utensils and of the cicadas singing their evening chorus. Most of the time, I think about nothing. Nothing feels good. After I wash all of the dishes, I empty out the dish drain stopper, rinse out the empty sink of soap soads and food debris, wipe the table and countertop down with a wet soapy cloth, and call it a day. 

 

Not so big thoughts

I've been trying to carry my camera around more. And I'm back to using manual mode (for the most part). Kiddies are fast. At least, mine is. Tell me, those of you who use the manual mode while photographing children -- What's your secret? And please, if your your answer is that your children are just so calm and serene that manually adjusting your F stop or shutter speed is easy breezy and of course you are able to still get some great shots, then pretty please, keep that thought to yourself, will ya?? ;) Because, for me, when the action is on, I slip into no-flash auto mode. And the result? In the summer time, my photos are bland and lifeless with bright light over kill. Not the look I'm going for. I've been thinking perhaps I'm in need of a new lens. I use the basic lens that came with my camera, the nifty fifty (good for indoor still life stuff since it doesn't autofocus on my camera base), and the 55-200 zoom. What's next??

Beyond my not so exciting photography woes, I've been feeling for awhile that my days are lacking in substantive time to think. While I love being a mama and the opportunity to spend my days with my girl, I must confess that I'm still mourning her afternoon naps. Even though she has a quiet time, I can still hear her talking to herself, playing with her toys, and also calling out to me at least once or twice during the hour. The quiet time remains a distracted time and doesn't give me a sufficient opportunity to focus on what I want to do. The rest of day is spent engaged in activity: Housework activity, play activity, yard activity, community activity and talking. Have I mentioned that I have a serious talker on my hands? Yep, from sun up to sun down. I'm exhausted by evening. How do you carve out time for your personal pursuits? Most of you have more than one child and somehow still manage to pack in all sorts of creative endeavors. Yet, I know, I must not be so hard on myself or the sweet little one. In the grand scheme of things, I know we are doing quite well. We spend many of our days involved in valuable activity. And well, maybe I haven't had much time for writing and such, but I did convert our home into a homeschool schoolhouse this summer. 

All this to say that oftentimes I really do miss my adult thinking brain. Sometimes I fantasize about going back to school, enrolling in a literature or philosophy course, and talking with adults about something else besides motherhood. Imagine that! And then I wonder if my intellectual side even exists anymore. Oh my!! 

Alas, I find afternoon solace in the simplest of pleasures: a scandelous glass of ice coffee, a phone conversaiton with a good friend, a still moment on the front porch, or maybe just a few minutes to myself hanging out laundry at the clothesline. And there is always chocolate. 

What gets you through your days? 

saturday evening post

 

 

Oh, here I am, making my way to the surface from the rabbit hole that is Pinterest.  I wanted to share this little video on Rebecca Rebouche and her work as an artist. The colors, the landscape, and the lighting of this video have me swooning and craving the deep, luscious, deciduous woods - and one of her beautiful paintings for my wall...

I'm just smitten with her work. I love how she tosses images of ordinary objects into woodland scenes. Like in this painting.  And I LOVE  that she is from my home state of Louisiana. Yeah!!  That place is just drenched with creative spirits. I feel so ordinary to admit this, but I discovered her through Anthropologie. What a mainstream consumer I can be, eh? Last year Anthropologie released a heart-stopping (at least to me) dinnerware collection that I just about cried for everytime I walked into a store. This summer, I found only salad plates discounted by 60%. I snagged several. And we eat on them every single day. And it makes me very, very, very, happy.  So yes, I wasn't able to get the entire set, but I got some. 

Like the old Stones song goes:

You don't always get what you want, you get what you need.

Well, I know I didn't need any of those plates at all, but you get the message.