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Sounds.
Emma’s bedtime words to me: I love you. I love your nose. I love your armpits. I love under your fingernails.
Hearing my oldest daughter tell me she doesn’t want me to call her ‘sweetie’ anymore. She doesn’t like that name at all. (my heart broke a little bit on that one)
Sights.
stamping, sidestepping horses, backing off trailers, clopping off up the road and ducking into the woods. A practice run for next week’s big trail ride here on the farm.
Canada Geese. Canada Geese. Canada Geese. they’re getting restless.
Observations.
Sounds.
Emma’s bedtime words to me: I love you. I love your nose. I love your armpits. I love under your fingernails.
Hearing my oldest daughter tell me she doesn’t want me to call her ‘sweetie’ anymore. She doesn’t like that name at all. (my heart broke a little bit on that one)
Sights.
stamping, sidestepping horses, backing off trailers, clopping off up the road and ducking into the woods. A practice run for next week’s big trail ride here on the farm.
Canada Geese. Canada Geese. Canada Geese. they’re getting restless.
Observations.
home / IN MY KITCHEN
the valley. 7:20am. a break in the rain.wish you could have been there.
I need some new music. I’ve been listening to the same mix CD I made myself, over and over for the last few weeks. I love it–it is slow and sorrowful in a good way. The perfect music to make dinner by. The perfect bit of peace against a backdrop of (oftentimes) chaos. It lets me escape to my own little world there in my kitchen.
So I’d love to share my "slow and sorrowful" mix with you, if you’ll send me some of your favorite "slow and sorrowful" in return. On mine you’ll find a little Patty Griffin, a little Rosie Thomas, some Gillian Welch, some Lucy Kaplansky, Lucinda Williams… and others.
And for the record, much of my good music I owe to my dear old friend, Krissy–the only friend I ever had who really knows how to listen to new song and who brings so much good music into my life.
And this is only a swapping of CDs. There is no pressure to throw in a bunch of extras–no throwing in a knitted sweater, stuffed turtles for everyone in the house, or a throw quilt for chilly winter nights. Just a CD. Quick and simple.
Interested? Please leave a comment or drop me an email. I’ll leave a note here when I decide to cut it off.
Hope you’ll join in.
I love new music.
the valley. 7:20am. a break in the rain.wish you could have been there.
I need some new music. I’ve been listening to the same mix CD I made myself, over and over for the last few weeks. I love it–it is slow and sorrowful in a good way. The perfect music to make dinner by. The perfect bit of peace against a backdrop of (oftentimes) chaos. It lets me escape to my own little world there in my kitchen.
So I’d love to share my "slow and sorrowful" mix with you, if you’ll send me some of your favorite "slow and sorrowful" in return. On mine you’ll find a little Patty Griffin, a little Rosie Thomas, some Gillian Welch, some Lucy Kaplansky, Lucinda Williams… and others.
And for the record, much of my good music I owe to my dear old friend, Krissy–the only friend I ever had who really knows how to listen to new song and who brings so much good music into my life.
And this is only a swapping of CDs. There is no pressure to throw in a bunch of extras–no throwing in a knitted sweater, stuffed turtles for everyone in the house, or a throw quilt for chilly winter nights. Just a CD. Quick and simple.
Interested? Please leave a comment or drop me an email. I’ll leave a note here when I decide to cut it off.
Hope you’ll join in.
I love new music.
home
Although my family is blessed to live on a big, beautiful farm–our actual living space is pretty small for a family of five. Sometimes I get a little nutty and have to change things up, or put a bunch of things away to simplify the spaces I’m always looking at. But as my husband says, "it’s good practice". It’s good to learn to live with less–less space, less stuff. And although I sometimes miss that "house of my own" feeling, I love being here and I love the things we’re all learning from living together in our tight-knit quarters.
So this morning started out with making beds and picking up yesterday’s messes, and quickly grew into a quick rearrange. A simple rearrange. Our living room is an open space that we’ve turned into two spaces by separating it with a sofa. So today, I simply made a switch. I moved the rug behind the sofa, in front of the sofa, and vice versa.
And I took two minutes to have a conversation with Emma about our toys:
Which do you really want to play with these days–the doll house or the barn? the barn.
Why haven’t you been playing with the basket of blocks and train tracks? the basket is too heavy for me to get out from under the table.
Would you rather I moved the blocks to an open space? yes, please.
Can we put this basket of toys away for a few weeks and get some other things out? yes, I like that idea.
Well, you’d think it was Christmas morning around this place. Everyone is completely engrossed in play. Emma surrounded by wooden fences and horses, Mary setting up a jungle of animals, and Elizabeth scootching around between the two and causing trouble.
Who knew moving two rugs and two minute conversation could encourage such hard-working play in our home?
Although my family is blessed to live on a big, beautiful farm–our actual living space is pretty small for a family of five. Sometimes I get a little nutty and have to change things up, or put a bunch of things away to simplify the spaces I’m always looking at. But as my husband says, "it’s good practice". It’s good to learn to live with less–less space, less stuff. And although I sometimes miss that "house of my own" feeling, I love being here and I love the things we’re all learning from living together in our tight-knit quarters.
So this morning started out with making beds and picking up yesterday’s messes, and quickly grew into a quick rearrange. A simple rearrange. Our living room is an open space that we’ve turned into two spaces by separating it with a sofa. So today, I simply made a switch. I moved the rug behind the sofa, in front of the sofa, and vice versa.
And I took two minutes to have a conversation with Emma about our toys:
Which do you really want to play with these days–the doll house or the barn? the barn.
Why haven’t you been playing with the basket of blocks and train tracks? the basket is too heavy for me to get out from under the table.
Would you rather I moved the blocks to an open space? yes, please.
Can we put this basket of toys away for a few weeks and get some other things out? yes, I like that idea.
Well, you’d think it was Christmas morning around this place. Everyone is completely engrossed in play. Emma surrounded by wooden fences and horses, Mary setting up a jungle of animals, and Elizabeth scootching around between the two and causing trouble.
Who knew moving two rugs and two minute conversation could encourage such hard-working play in our home?
