The armada readies for sail to friends and family. Senior son's creation.
Marble track. Free-for-all general marble bedlam in the interior, the sound of glass crisply colliding, the ping of the marble meeting metal. Picked up one by one and lined up like a precision acrobatic team to orbit the rim, spinning round, then gracefully descending to the concrete. A slight push sends them around again with the red, green, yellow swirls in the center fluttering like tiny flags. Youngest son's creation.
And the reason why I've been away. My sweet mother's day gift. The house dirties. Dog hair swirls in tufted eddies under the couch. Suppers are pulled like a miracle from quickly assembled foods. In the evening, the kitchen is tidied. Dishes cleaned. I sit down and play, go to bed too late, and wake up in the morning with my body hazy from lack of sleep to start the cycle over again. I am in love.
Thanks to our generous friends the Oclaray's, we enjoyed a Dodger's baseball game on Mother's Day weekend. Great seats. A Dodger's win. Our friend's gave us their tickets for the Friday night game as they were busy. Busy with the arrival of their newborn daughter. Although baseball is a great way to celebrate Mother's Day, having a baby is even better. Congratulations Oclaray family! And thank you.
On the way to preschool early in the morning, my son and I rode next to the San Gabriel mountains near Eaton Canyon. Sage speckled the hillsides with blooming purple spires. Orange poppies fluttered like tethered butterflies with wings splayed open surrounded by the pervasive yellow dots of mustard blossoms. My youngest son asked to pull over immediately, hike a path and paint. I explained we weren't prepared for a painting hike today but we could do it tomorrow. "With snacks?" he asked.
Absolutely. We dropped his big brother at school the following day and headed straight to the area around Eaton Canyon that spoke so clearly to his imagination the previous day. A four year old with a paint brush is a beautiful thing. He paints with such intention yet filled with freedom. A lesson to all.
Painting has it's pleasures and rewards, but really, it's all about the snacks, the open air and adventure.
May this notebook (and many more) be filled with the celebrations and commemorations of being out in the places that call to you mixed with the calm complexity of all that is within.
The boys and I made hand dipped candles at my oldest son's suggestion as presents for our mothers/grandmothers. Wax from our bees.
Homegrown bouquets plucked and arranged by my oldest boy adorned the table. Gathered around were mothers, family, great company, with the sounds of music and the steady hum of conversations and stories shared as we sat before plates full of delicious food.
One of the fine kids who opened the door to the amazing journey of motherhood. I am so grateful for the love and wisdom my sons share with me.
And my very own beeswax candle, hand made with plenty of love, presented to me first thing in the morning with the greeting, "You are cool, clever and awesome." A salute to all the mothers along the road.
Our dog Trudy told us about this development long ago. She would camp out underneath the olive tree, hackles raised, barking like mad. I would peer up and search but see nothing. Perhaps a squirrel? Not likely. Not with Trudy's raised hackles.
On Sunday, we all became acquainted with Trudy's nemesis...eyeball to eyeball on the front porch. This raccoon is one of three to claim Camp Ramshackle as home.