This time last year a little bird started spending it's nights under the shelter of our patio. Every day it would come back and tuck itself into this little corner.

We named it Chirp. Inspired by a favorite morning show.

We can see his little perch perfectly from the dinner table, and would have fun making up stories about him during our evening meals.

Spring came, outside warmed up, and Chirp went on his way. 

That was the end of that.

Until a couple weeks ago. The first real cold of this year set in. I was working busily in the kitchen and happened to glance out the window. 

There was Chirp, tucked back into his cozy little corner all sheltered from the cold and rain.

After so many months it had never occurred to me that we might see him again.

He's been back every night since, a couple of times even bringing a friend along.

It's sentimental and silly, I know, but it makes me happy that our home is a place of refuge for this tiny little creature.

Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap, nor gather into barns;
Yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?
Matthew 6:26

I think it was around the third or fourth day of September where I just had a moment of thinking this month is going to fly by.

Of course, it has.

I've snapped pictures here and there of things I want to remember and share, but when evening comes and all is finally quiet, honestly, I don't want to do anything. Even something as simple as upload photos off my camera.

Tonight, knowing the month is quickly coming to a close, I felt the need to get over that and catch up.

Because I really wouldn't want to forget things like this. The road snaking it's way across our backyard. Built meticulously by a girl who wants to make sure that all those giant red ants are safe as they travel their daily path.

She sat and observed them for days, learning every little curve in their pilgrimage, until she was confident she could predict exactly where they would go.

Now I'm left with the dilema of despising the ants, but not wanting to wipe out all of her devoted work.

These were a thrilling find. Something new and exciting for everyone that kept us all occupied on a sick day.

We explored a beautiful trail for the first time with some friends. If you ever get the chance to go don't pass it up!

With a slowed down schedule, we've felt a little more free to make naps optional. Some days it's just fine. Other days I end up with a little girl sitting straight up in my lap while in a dead sleep.

I really don't mind.

We're learning new things and enjoying all of the fun ways we can try to cement all of that information in our brains.

The fall decor is coming out and we're having fun adding to it with every new pumpkin that ripens in the garden.

My favorite quilt is back on our bed. Makes things feel cozy.

We had an empty calendar this week. Four whole days in a row at home. (The girls and I are real excited to go out tomorrow and be with other people!)

The thrill of the quiet days at home has been a week of school fully complete without any rushing, cramming or adjusting of the lessons. 

This is rare. I want to really appreciate it.

Another perk of the slow week: I've had time to make this newly discovered and completely delicious dessert.

Twice.

(Don't worry, we made people come over to help us eat it.)

We're all excited to have our favorite daily snack, fresh from Grammy's trees.

And as we head into a new month I'm so happy I've found two new reads that I'm totally loving. One for when I need to refocus my thoughts, and one for when I just need a little diversion so I can catch my breath.

Tell me about all the little things in your September.

With all of the wonderful rain we've been getting, our garden has been growing beautifully. We're harvesting basil, cilantro, peas and strawberries, and the blueberries and zucchini are in full bloom.

The garden is like my little sanctuary. So still and quiet, with so much going on at the same time. I love it. I love the sound and smell of the water as it sprays and soaks into the garden soil. I love watching the plants burst through the ground, slowly uncurl and grow. It's my place for being still, and my place for seeing God's beautiful handiwork.

So I'm sure you can imagine my absolute fury to discover an invasion of my precious place.

*image courtesy of google

In case you've never made their acquaintance, this is a squash bug. 

I know they have a more scientific name, but the name's not really important. 

Their existence is the issue. When I discovered them on Sunday morning I realized I now know what is meant by the term "righteous indignation". These bugs are the object of my pure and unwavering hatred. Their mission is to suck the life out of my zucchini, killing it from the inside out until I'm left with nothing but a shriveled up mess!

They made a brief appearance towards the end of last summer, but the zucchini plants were so near done with producing that it wasn't too big of a concern.

But this year with only my first blooms appearing, before I've harvested a single piece of zucchini, they had the nerve to show up.

And not just one or two. I disposed of twenty that first morning. TWENTY!

Not good.

The internet is full of useful information about them.

I particularly enjoyed this article that stated, "Squash bugs are a garden insect pest that seem to drive many people right to the brink of insanity." 

Insanity is definitely the word that has run through my mind as I've crawled around my zucchini bed, head tilted upside down as I attempt to find them under leaves. It's almost become this compulsive need, to find them and kill them.

One of the above links kindly suggested carrying a bucket of soapy water, grabbing the bugs and dropping them in so they drown. I guess that's a nice way to do it.

I don't bother with a bucket though.

I just pull on my handy garden gloves, grab them with thumb and index finger and crush them as severely as possible. NO chance of them coming back from that, and honestly I think there is some level of therapy in this method of disposal.

I'm not a tough girl. I can't stand bugs. The mention of snakes sends me running to hide. If a grasshopper jumps against my leg I will probably scream. But these bugs have somehow managed to channel a pathway straight to that tiny ounce of deeply hidden rage with me.

Please don't judge me.

So anyway, this week we are off for a grand summer adventure in the land of cows. I've left a nice little mist to keep my garden invaders company.

How's your garden growing?

Just like clockwork, in the midst of the Fourth of July celebrating, the summer rains have rolled in.

My nine year old asked me yesterday "Why do we keep having sun in the morning and rain in the afternoon every day???"

Later on in the day, while at the library she saw a sign for classes on "monsoon preparation" and asked what "monsoon" is. I reminded her of her earlier observation of it.

If you ask me any day from October through May, I will tell you I am not a fan of the gray days. I would be perfectly happy with all sun, all of the time. During fall, winter and spring, rain means one thing: colder. And for a girl who is not a fan of cold, colder is beyond undesirable. 

BUT, in the summer, it's different.

In the summer, the rain rarely takes up residence for days on end with no sun in sight. I get my morning wake up call from the precious sun, then right after lunch, after just enough sun and breeze to dry my laundry, the clouds roll in. 

The sun that perpetually bronzes the back of my neck as I toil and sweat in the garden every morning is suddenly blocked out by big, dark, heavy clouds.

The air that has been hot and sticky and has forced me to retreat inside where my precious air conditioning keeps me from a heat stroke all of the sudden begins to cool. 

Cool. Not colder. During these summer months, what is a burden and hindrance the rest of the year becomes a welcome reprieve.

The rain comes, And it refreshes in a way that no modern invention can. The cool and fresh in the air after these summer rains is incomparable.

I sit under the cover of the patio and watch the rain fall, soaking up the dry ground, settling all the dust. We get excited for our garden. I could water all day and night and never see the kind of life that these rains bring to everything that's growing.

I never want to be inside, or busy doing things when the rain comes. It feels like such a gift, I have this need to be still. Seeing it and savoring it and being so thankful.

My mind drifts to childhood memories. Laying on the couch with the doors and windows open. Watching Little House on the Prairie and enjoying that sweet smell as it filled the house.

I start thinking of the people that settled here more than a century ago. How hot it must have been. And I'm reminded of Sarah Witting, stepping out into rain after months and months of drought. The breath and life that the rain can bring. 

I am drawn to pray for the family of dear friends, herding cows and on alert for fires while they pray for rain.

Still, I sit.

Here, in my life, where I am right now, I can be witness to God's grace, quite literally poured down. And I don't want to miss it.