{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
Friday, October 28, 2011
Friday, October 7, 2011
An October day...
I could live out my life inside of an October day. Granted, ours lately have felt more like September or even August, but I have decidedly turned a blind eye to this last gust of summer from mother nature and begin my wind down now. I love the slow stillness we all eventually must step into that comes with the falling of the leaves.
Summer is so full of life. It's fast and passionate with extremes on every side. It's extremely hot, extremely rainy, extremely long, loud, or all of the above. Little feet run hard with not much left for anything but sleeping by the end of the day.
In the fall, that begins to slow. We wake up and spend the day outdoors while the little ones discover new things each day from the yard they thought they knew. For myself, I've already picked out my spot from which I shall watch this season pass. A porch swing tucked under a red maple tree on my back patio.
In each season, I feel compelled to participate, except this one. In the winter, I have a need to craft and create. In the spring, to grow things and clean and make new. In the summer, to play and be crazy. But...in the autumn, I feel an innate desire to simply watch. And I do. From my porch swing, I watch as the leaves over my head turn a little more red each day. The plum mums beside me open their buds a little more, grasping for the little bit of the slanting sun that the tree and house allotted them. Little ones get better each day at walking, running, climbing.
Sometimes, someone sits beside me and watches as well. At times, it's a friend, Lance, or a loved family member, but usually it's a little one coming to rest awhile and swing with mama. Eventually, they all get down and go on their way, but I still watch. Laundry can wait until nap time. For now, I am watching my hope for the future simply be kids in a time of no worry or difficulty.
Summer is so full of life. It's fast and passionate with extremes on every side. It's extremely hot, extremely rainy, extremely long, loud, or all of the above. Little feet run hard with not much left for anything but sleeping by the end of the day.
In the fall, that begins to slow. We wake up and spend the day outdoors while the little ones discover new things each day from the yard they thought they knew. For myself, I've already picked out my spot from which I shall watch this season pass. A porch swing tucked under a red maple tree on my back patio.
In each season, I feel compelled to participate, except this one. In the winter, I have a need to craft and create. In the spring, to grow things and clean and make new. In the summer, to play and be crazy. But...in the autumn, I feel an innate desire to simply watch. And I do. From my porch swing, I watch as the leaves over my head turn a little more red each day. The plum mums beside me open their buds a little more, grasping for the little bit of the slanting sun that the tree and house allotted them. Little ones get better each day at walking, running, climbing.
Sometimes, someone sits beside me and watches as well. At times, it's a friend, Lance, or a loved family member, but usually it's a little one coming to rest awhile and swing with mama. Eventually, they all get down and go on their way, but I still watch. Laundry can wait until nap time. For now, I am watching my hope for the future simply be kids in a time of no worry or difficulty.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Simply Ten in October
A list of simply ten. Ten things of the here and now to help live in the moment and be grateful for it.
Cool mornings.
Mums sitting on my patio.
A porch swing.
Sisters.
Big hats on little heads.
Children that dance.
Coffee that tastes good, even after being reheated a dozen times.
Golden leaves in morning sun.
A moment of quiet in all the noise.
The word alone, October.
Can you think of ten?
Cool mornings.
Mums sitting on my patio.
A porch swing.
Sisters.
Big hats on little heads.
Children that dance.
Coffee that tastes good, even after being reheated a dozen times.
Golden leaves in morning sun.
A moment of quiet in all the noise.
The word alone, October.
Can you think of ten?
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