A Grown Up Perspective. . .

Over spring break we packed up our car and headed to Idaho for a fun filled TEN days.  Half of that time Rob flew out to Scottsdale, Arizona for work and left us girls at my parent's house to get reacquainted with our long lost siblings and cousins (since moving to Washington we make it home a lot less often than when we lived in Utah).  Typically, when we do visit, we stay at Rob's parent's house, and how we fill our days differs at the two homes.

With Leesa, we shop and eat out and run around a lot--which I love.  At my mom's house we sit and chat and cook at home and the kids run wild--which I also love, and which the girls generally love as well (there are no cousins at Leesa's (aka Mana) house. At Mana's there is always a freezer full of ice cream, a closet full of toys and lots of new movies, and, of course, a lot of shopping--which often works in their favor--plus, in the summer there is a pool, lots of walking pathways and the Boise River for throwing rocks into.  But while my parent's house is no longer a farm (the land has been sold off and developed), it still feels like a farm.  Ducks, chickens, dogs and cats make for high entertainment, in additions to half a dozen or so girl cousins and a handful of boy cousins that show up to join the fun.

One would think, that since I grew up with wild liters of puppies and kittens roaming free, and climbed trees with the practiced agility of a monkey, and competed for the highest jumps on the trampoline, not to mention swimming in the canal (which the cows drank from. . . among other things) and dozens of other "country" activities, that I would want that for my children. . . and I do, BUT somehow scaling a tree to nose bleed heights seems less innocuous from the grand old age of 33 than it did from 7 or 11.  Cats have loads of germs.  Roaming puppies are in danger of being hit on the road if not kept under constant surveillance--kids too for that matter!  And don't get me started on the grossness that is the ditch!

I find myself constantly torn between letting them explore and be kids--after all they are outside, for pete's sake, and not on some electronic device--and reigning them in to keep them from killing themselves, breaking their necks on the trampoline, aka launching bone breaker.

I survived.  They will too. . . I hope.  I just have to keep remembering the old saying, "Everybody dies, but not everybody lives!"  I need to let my children live, albeit with an ounce of caution.  Just like Hannah proclaimed at the end of our trip (in reference to the go-go-go of Mana's house and the stay-stay-stay of Grammy's house) "Can't there just be balance!"

Wise girl.  I must be doing something right!

Spring. . .

Spring is in the air, it's in the trees and in our hair!

The rain isn't gone, but we are finally getting stretches of no rain and some blue skies between the clouds.  But the blossoms popping out everywhere are certainly making it feel more like spring.  Around here, the world is purple and pink from the flowering plum trees that dot the landscape and line the roads.  The sight of them makes me slightly giddy.

Other things are blooming, but the mass of pink makes the biggest impact for now.

Last week I devoted a post on House of White to frogs.  Frogs are a sure sign of spring and we have been hearing them sing their chorus, and spotting them in the yard for some time now.  This guy has taken up residence on our back patio. . . much to Chuck's chagrin! He doesn't, however, seem to have much spring in his hop.

Next week is spring break and we are headed to Idaho to see family and have some fun.  So in preparation, Hannah and Signe and I took a trip to the salon for new spring dos.

My hair was getting unmanageably long. . .

So I had it whacked:

Hannah has been begging for highlight. . . so I let her get a few, along with some sassy layers.  I think it turned out super cute! (The girls' picture were taken on my cellphone, so they are a smidge grainy.)

Signe didn't have an appointment--because I didn't want to get her hair cut off--but she came and looked through a hair magazine and politely asked my hairdresser if she would give her the haircut she found in the magazine.  Soooo, I let her do it.

She couldn't have been more thrilled.  The smile didn't leave her face for hours and she kept touching her hair.  So I guess it's okay after all.  Short hair, long hair, that girl is always adorable!

Now that we are ready for spring, the warm weather can go ahead and join us. . .now.

Happy Spring!

Little Entrepreneurs. . .

Nothing makes it feel more like summer than a couple cute blondies standing on the roadside selling lemonade, er, Crystal Light. It may still be March, but Saturday was sunny and bright.  The perfect weather for working in the garden. . . or setting up shop.

The girls even set up a free dog water pan next to their booth for walkers who might have thirsty dogs.  They brought themselves snacks and prepared to settle in for a while.

As parents of the two cuties, Vanessa and I humored them.  (Mostly Vanessa since she supplied. . . everything, including the supervision--Thanks Vanessa!)

I thought it was cute enough to buy a drink, snap a few pictures, then head off to work on my yard.

When I returned I was informed that business had been good. It must have, for they lasted longer out there than I thought they would.

Signe brought home a bag of the proceeds.  $7.50.  Which was half of what they made!

Apparently I am not the only one susceptible to a cute girl with a persuasive sales pitch (After a short lesson the girls learned that a nice smile and wave worked as well, if not better, than their first marketing technique--the hand out "STOP" motion while yelling lemonade, followed by minor running alongside the road when said car did not immediately stop:)

Perhaps next time we can splurge and make hand squeezed lemonade. . . and maybe cookies.

Just imagine the success they might have then.

Happy Birthday to Me. . .

I got myself a little flowery birthday cheer. . . while on a walk with the dogs last night.  I can pass on jewelry and chocolates--well most of the time on the chocolates--but I'm a sucker for flowers.  And I am not snobby about my flowers.  I prefer no roses--unless they come from my rose bushes.  Daisies and tulips, peonies and hydrangea, lilacs and forget-me-nots.  Pick them from the garden or buy them at the grocery store or market.  I'm easily pleased.

But my husband is not one to think of getting flowers, at least not since the second year we were married.  It is so well known that he does NOT buy me flowers, that one year a friend bought me flowers and had them delivered with Rob's name on them.  He didn't have the good sense to pretend he'd sent them!

But that's okay.  I know where to get my own flowers, and as often as not they come from my garden (at least in the summer months).  Or, last night, from a tree down the street.  The girls and I walked the dogs after dark and on the way back I snagged a branch of lovely little pink plum blossoms.  I also bought myself a handful of pink tulips over the weekend.  My house is feeling quite cheery and fresh.

They make me smile. It's a good way to start any day, but extra nice on my birthday.

And Rob may not buy me flowers, but he makes sure to fill my car with gas and my wallet with cash, which is good, because today I am spending my birthday shopping.

I am headed to the antique district looking for treasures.  Wish me luck!

***And happy birthday Dad.  Have fun at our party for me--eat an extra piece of cake and pretend I was there to enjoy it with you***

Spring Is Speaking. . .

The sun is shining, the geese are honking on their voyage north, the frogs are crocking in a joyful chorus that shouts of spring, and the tulips' leaves are sprouting up, waving little declaration flags of hope and promise.

I ran to the hardware store the other day for moss killer, because while I love that it is green, I concede to my neighbor's prophetic wisdom that ultimately you just want to kill it before it kills everything else, and while there I noticed spring is arriving. . . in two packs and four packs, swaddled in soil and peat moss.  Crates of bulbs and tubers and seeds called my name and promised of summer.  I couldn't resist.  While my husband headed for the moss killer I wrestled with the urge to clasp all the little packages of promise to my bosom and head for the checkout aisle.

I did manage to limit myself to a couple two packs of peonies and handful dahlia tubers. . . and eight little lilly of the valley bulbs.  Oh, and three tuberoses.  Though I can't quite plant them yet, they still give me visions of gardening and remind me why I love living in the country with a patch of earth to call my own.  Because it isn't just about the peonies and dahlias, the lilacs and the hydrangeas--though I nearly bought a different house JUST for the gorgeous hydrangeas growing along its side--it's really about simple pleasures, and people.  It's growing my own garden and it's backyard barbecues.  It's community celebrations and getting back to basics.  It's celebrating history and making our own story.

There is a power of place--and for me part of that power lies in large front porches and bright pink peonies. . . and the echo of giggling girls running through the shade of wise old trees.

See the things spring speaks to me?  What does it say to you?

Easter Sunday

Awake, thou wintry earth-- 

Fling off thy sadness! Fair vernal flowers,

laugh forth Your ancient gladness!

Christ is risen.    

                                      - Thomas Blackburn, An Easter Hymn

He Strikes Again!

What's small and furry and comes bearing goodies?

At our house the hunt for eggs is not a simple game of hide-and-seek.  Mr. Easter Bunny leaves a trail of clues hidden in bright plastic eggs. . . 

The girls must read the clue to find the next egg. . .

Sometimes they are in strange places. . .

Bun in the end they lead to the prize.

This year they found their baskets hidden in the car.

They are always filled with candy. . .

. . .and of course those infamous peeps. . .

And each year he leaves a little something summery for these two girls who have winter birthdays. 

 

Anyone know when the rain will stop. . .and the wind will pick up?

Did he strike at your house too?

Happy Easter

Anyone have a good recipe that calls for hard boiled eggs. . . or several recipes?

We  hadn't done this in years--it was really fun. . .though I am not sure why Sig decided she needed to dye eggs in a swim suit!

Happy Easter