memories
I began writing this post on our last day of vacation in Orlando, Florida. The day we headed home. In the midst of packing suitcases, carry ons and getting everyone and everything ready to GO, I tried to post this photo and story about my youngest son, but of course when you’re time crunched is when you’re most likely to have technical difficulties. So, I quickly saved as “draft” and decided to wait and post when I could finish a thought again. It’s now Monday morning. My husband is working, my children are at school, the happy-to-be-home-again-dog is sound asleep at my feet and the glad-we’re-home-but-mad-the-dog-is-back-too-cat is plotting from the floor above. Ah, q-u-i-e-t. Just what I needed most.
On October 26, 2012, my youngest son (age 9) woke up happy and said, “Yeah! It’s Friday! We’re not going to the parks today!” Sweet boy who is happy to be going HOME. It’s his safe spot. I packed a patterned blanket, in shades of golden brown, on his request. It’s a comfort to him. He likes the cozy, softness it offers at night – it feels like something in between fleece and velour. It was worth the luggage space I gave up to bring it along for him. He needed that extra bit of home with him this wonderful week away. A week spent under palm fronds blowing in gentle breezes and a clear blue sky above. The gray clouds and rainy moments never lasted long or dampened the fun of the trip.
We made our own fun, he and I. He was my apple this week. The crowds were a bit too much. Rides not really his thing. Especially fast, dark and loud ones. Up and at ‘em rushing to eat breakfast and catch buses didn’t feel like vacation to him. Extra desserts agreed with him just fine though! So we swam in the hotel pool nearly every day, played video games at the hotel arcade, split brownie desserts down the middle, tucked in early and watched TV or read books in the quiet of the room while his big brother and dad rode the wild rides and stayed up late, adding to the crowds. Most of my vacation pictures are of him (palm trees come in second), caught my oldest son, husband and in laws a few times too. The memories will last. The smiles too. It was a lovely vacation. ~ Janean
October 29, 2012
soccer Saturday
moon shine
In one of the bedtime story collections my children have from long ago was this prayer, “I see the moon and the moon sees me. God bless the moon and God bless me.” I often think of it, and whisper it aloud, especially when the moon is glowing big and bright, sometimes by day, but usually at night. ~ Janean
September 30, 2012
at the farm
Dear Queen Anne,
I love your lace.
I always have.
Since childhood.
When I’d tuck a stem behind my ear and the delicate blooms would tickle my face.
I picked a dozen and wove the long stems into a crown, oblivious to the minute white petals in my hair long after the crown was gone.
I chose the prettiest blooms and presented them to my grandma in a great big bunch.
Flowers, flowers everywhere in her multilayered gardens, but the only one I was allowed to pick was your lace, Queen Anne.
Time passes.
That young girl, once so carefree, grew into a woman with a family of her own.
But I’m still me.
In the light of early morning, walking my sweet pup on a new path, I spied a familiar flower.
For I never could call it a weed, with a name as lovely as, “Queen Anne’s Lace.”
Hello my friend.
Thank you for waking up my memories, of those childhood days long gone.
My grandma is gone now too.
Smiling down from heaven as I snapped off a single bloom and kept on walking.
Heading home.
Puppy slowing down, pulling less, heeling more.
I know full well it’s against the rules to pick flowers in a public park, as they are there for everyone to enjoy.
I rationalized no one would miss one weed…
Even though in my heart I didn’t think it so.
Thank you for the beautiful, pure white, intricate blooms of your lace, Queen Anne.
I’ll be walking that way again and a flower may or may not follow me home again…
(Depending a bit on who is reading.)
Love,
Janean
July 21, 2012
a quiet house
Art Circle In Action
I walked past this hammock for sale at the store today and flashed back to my childhood summers. On the most special of days my dad would tie the big white hammock between two skinny walnut trees. We’d take turns climbing in to sway gently from side to side. How I wanted to buy a hammock today to recapture the peace and ease of those long ago summer days. I resisted though. No where to store it. No good place in the yard to serenely sway either. Street sounds. Lawnmowers. Basketballs hitting pavement in pre shot dribbling. Dogs barking (not just mine). I’ve landed a hundred miles from the deep, sloped, tree filled backyard at the end of a dead end street behind the little yellow house that I called Home for my first twenty one years. I grew up in a town of 20,000 surrounded by factories, farmland, and highways to anywhere but here. Now I think to myself, “Those were the days.” These were my fleeting thoughts this morning, as I pushed my shopping cart past the hammocks toward the aisles that held stuff actually on my list. The only other thing I wondered was whether my parents, my dad specifically, would like a hammock once again to enjoy on summer afternoons from his screened in porch that overlooks the Mississippi River. You can be sure I’m going to ask him and hope the answer is, “Yes.” My ulterior motives are quite transparent…I want a turn too. ~ Janean
Turquoise Tangles 