Wednesday, July 29, 2009

summer around here

The gardenia bushes almost didn't make it through the winter, but they've put forth their white deliciousness anyway, scraggly branches and all. (You gotta admire that.)

And the blueberries were sweet. All four of them. (Hey, you gotta start somewhere, right?)

Eight sweet pepper bushes. One pepper. (It's better than none!)

The tomatoes are sweet and lovely. But not if you ask Caleb. Caleb took one bite out of a cherry tomato--he was so proud of it, having come from HIS garden--and promptly threw up. (At least he tried it!)

The petunias have survived heat, drought, slugs and squirrel attacks. Resilient, those petunias.

The Crepe Myrtle (Is that how you spell it? I'm too lazy to look it up.) is divine--we set up the baby pool under its shade the other day. The boys were delirious. Then Caleb crapped in the pool and everything kinda went downhill, but it was a great four minutes before that.

My garden is still a place of healing, but more in a sweat lodge kind of way. We don't linger outside too much these days. If the heat doesn't getcha, the skeeters will.

The gourd plants have taken over. They're great! Their prolific, happy wide leaves, proud yellow flowers and zany patterned gourds are a delight.

And sunflowers. How can a gal be anything but happy with sunflowers in her yard?

the agony and the ecstacy

Hello, screaming tantrums! How very nice of you to visit. I really needed to have my eardrums rattled 17,000 times a day. I really wanted to feel brain damaged before 9 o'clock every freakin' morning.

The saving grace? Moments like this: I'm cooking dinner this evening and I overhear the boys happily romping around in the living room. There's a moment of silence, I peek in, and they're lying on the floor next to each other and Caleb sighs and says, "It's a beautiful day, Tavish..."

Friday, July 17, 2009

oh this man...

Be still, my heart. This picture undoes me every time I look at it. This is Jay, just shy of one year ago, standing at the altar waiting for me. That is the face of a man who knows the weight of what he is about to promise, of what he has already devoted himself to.

I love that face, those eyes--those brown-green eyes that held so much light as I said my vows, like a river at high noon in summer, all the rocks and fish shuddering in watered sunlight. I could not stop smiling that day--the kind of smile that sprouts in the warm pit of the gut and does not stop growing until it's blooming all over your face. I can still feel his warm hand on my back as we had our first dance. All my dreams were--and still are--coming true.

Happy (almost) Anniversary, my love. I'd marry you again and again.