I am a notorious photo-taking fanatic. I love to have photos of everything. Every little moment. Every little detail. I don't need some deep psycho-analysis to know it's my way of holding onto all of the fleeting beautiful that I don't want to let go of.

But lately I'm finding myself in moments of such depth, that no photo is really going to capture it.

Like our night of music. I did take a picture. I suppose I could've taken a video. But nothing really could capture that moment, that feeling of being in the middle of my kitchen and hearing the voices and melodies of all those I love most pouring out beautiful worship. It was beyond visual documentation. All I could do was stop, be still, and soak it in.

Last night it happened again. You know that moment at the end of a movie when all the sudden the bliss the character has been seeking is just there? The camera focuses on two people and everything around them is in some kind of spinning motion, but there they are in perfect focus and happiness as strains of Coldplay start fading in and it just feels like this is it! This it what they've been waiting for. They've found the beauty.

Sitting around our dining room table wrapping up a night full of games and dancing to swing music around the kitchen sink.  An animal covered game board spread before us and piles of colorful game chips scattered around like confetti. Little girls in pajamas and my husband to lock eyes with as we try to help the game along.

The girls suddenly (as is usually the case) have reached the end of their game concentration. The silliness has hit. And the littlest girl is the most out of control of them all. Because I'm sure there's nothing more satisfying as the baby of the family than to evoke a good laugh out of everyone.

They giggled over nothing, and their giggling made them laugh more until they were just being crazy. Watching our girl who's about to be ten sink into hysteria with her seven and four year old sisters. The four year old has recently taken up the habit of putting her hands over her mouth when she laughs, which just makes her a thousand times more endearing to watch. Because her little hands really can't cover her big old laugh, and there she sits with her giant-missing-tooth-grin just laughing to the point of tears.

And we laugh too. Because they're just so funny and so beautiful, and I'm not sure about him, but for me it's the kind of laugh that's containing a well of tears. Because life can be so beautiful. I know we don't deserve one bit of it. And in knowing that I feel driven to cherish it fiercely. 

There was a moment when I thought about jumping up to grab the camera. I wanted to capture and be able to look back at all that laughter. 

But something stopped me. And I knew I just needed to be still and be in that moment. Not try desperately to grab a little piece of it to hold onto forever. But to let myself be immersed in it and savor it in all it's beauty. No photo could do it justice.

And even though I sit here the next day trying to secure it a place in my unreliable memory, it seems that I can't capture it with words either.

The beautiful gift of a heart so full it might burst. It's always fleeting. Only a moment to soak it in and then it's gone forever. There's nothing quite so amazing. 

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.

My mornings have found a (much needed) consistent routine lately.

Wake up. Time in my room actually waking up to the point that I am ready to interact with people. Get dressed. Head into the kitchen. Start breakfast. Start a load of laundry. Breakfast and Bible with the girls. Then head outside to hang the laundry.

This rhythm in my morning has been so nice. By the time I am actually starting in on the “work” of the day, one of the most essential chores on my list is already checked off. I’ve found that if I do a single load of laundry every morning, this keeps the laundry in a perfectly comfortable caught up state at all times.

I love my clothesline. I love the peacefulness of those few minutes hanging out the laundry every day. The chance to soak up fresh air and the sun’s rays as I have the cool, clean touch and smell of just washed clothes in my hands. It’s a precious little intermission of time to breathe in my day.

A normal and frequent interjection in these moments of mine is a little girl voice….calling through the window screen or poking a head out the back door. Asking for this or that. Or tattling on one of the other little girls in the house.

I often wonder what the people that live around us think if they can hear our little dialogues. Can they hear the little girl voices, or do they just hear my voice? Have they decided I’m the crazy lady who talks to herself?

One morning last week as I was blissfully pinning clothes to the line, I heard a request from a small little voice.

Only this time it wasn’t one of my girls.

Carried on the breeze came the calls from the little boy next door to his mother.

I glanced the direction of their yard. Just above the top of our solid wood fence, I could see the top of a clothesline, much like my own.  And I could see the hands of a woman, much like my own, pinning clothes to the line, just like me.

I know her. We’ve had brief moments of conversation. We exchanged casual hellos for months. I really met her the day she showed up at my front door, in pajamas and a bathrobe, messy hair and eyes flooded with tears as she held her small new baby out to me and said “She won’t breathe. Please help me!”

The baby (thank you Jesus) ended up being fine….just a too little infant struggling with the effects of a nasty cold.

But this woman has had a marked out little spot in my heart ever since.

Unfortunately, life is so busy and when I’m free she’s not and vice versa.

And as I stood outside listening to the voices of her and her little one carry back and forth in the same kind of conversation that I have had a hundred times myself from the clothesline in my backyard, I was just kind of sad.

Here we are. Right next to each other. Side by side as we do our laundry and raise our babies.  In the same season of life. Why aren’t we sharing it?

Is it just time? Or just laziness? Or just that we’re not quite cut out to be that kind of friends.

I really don’t know the answer. As I contemplated I was reminded of something I read once. A story pointing to the advent of the privacy fence as the time when neighbors stopped being friends. And I found myself wondering if that was the answer. Or at least a part of it.

Mostly I found myself wishing that big tall dark fence that I wanted so badly was just not there. I found myself lost in a dream of two mothers living side by side, who meet at the clothesline every morning and share a bit of their day, a bit of their hearts.

And I found myself reminded that getting what I want isn’t always the best thing. Because sometimes it might mean I’m missing out on something better.

I'm joining in on Simple Mom's Project: Simplify. I used to be the queen of clean, but somewhere in the mix of children and homeschooling, my ability to maintain certain (and many) areas of the house disappeared.

This week's assignment was to organize your wardrobe. My closet of course, is one of my most neglected spots. And clothes are a very hard thing for me to get rid of….I always think what if I end up needing this?

BUT, I have also been learning the last couple of years, that the more clothes we own, the more laundry we have the potential to create. That's all the motivation I need to let go.

Here's my before and after shots….

Before:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::After

(My closet is impossible to capture in one shot!)

Before::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::After

Before

After

And of course, there's the discard pile.

That's one load of laundry I'll never have to do.

So, don't you want to join in? It's not too late. You can link up here.

We're back to school and trying to find a routine after a month of random. I'm sure you can imagine what that entails.

I have so much I want to say, and I'm writing all day long in my head, but I haven't yet found the time to sit down and actually write anything out.

So anyway, soon (hopefully) we will find our groove and things will (again hopefully) feel less busy.

In the meantime, a couple glimpses of my day….

New #2 pencils (to replace the ridiculous decorative pencils we've been suffering through for months) and a brand new sharpener. The thrill of my life! I can't even tell you how excited I was about these pencils. Who knew $1.97 could bring such bliss. 

So many great books to enjoy. It's kind of overwhelming; I'm always torn about which one to pick up. This could be another reason for my online absence. 

And, yeah. I've been catching up on the laundry. I wash. Then dry. Then drop it on my bedroom floor, to fold later.

Later keeps getting put off. For now, if you need something to wear, get ready to go digging.

So that's my life right now. Amongst other things of course. 

I'll be back once the laundry has made it to it's final destination.

It's been three days since I've seen the sun. 

We all know how I feel about that.

Actually this time around, I have been enjoying the gray.  With Christmas so close, it makes everything feel cozy, and keeps us inside doing all the Christmasy stuff we want.

Projects are finished.

Sweet books are enjoyed.

Silly movies entertain us.

And hot treats keep us warm.

When little girls are sleeping, I've been pulling out something from my stash of Christmas favorites.

Endless baking has kept the house warm and smelling sweet.

My little helpers keep me company.

And a fuzzy headed mess of a toddler just makes me smile.

I think I have made quite the noble effort to embrace the gray. 

But now, with a feverish little one in the house, I must admit that what was cozy now feels confining. I'm longing to open the windows and purify our inside air from all the cough germs I know are just hovering.

So, in the meantime, I'll be "cheering" things up with some linen scent Lysol and a box of Emergen-C.

I saw this idea online somewhere a few months ago, but I can’t find it now.  So if you’re reading this and it was your idea, speak up!  I’m really not trying to steal it!

Anyway, this is the new system we’ve been trying out for “morning responsibilities”.  Each girl has a cup full of super-size popsicle sticks with a chore written on one end and a big star on the other.

Every morning I make sure the sticks are chore side up.  After breakfast as they take care of each of their jobs they flip the stick and “get” a star.

The novelty of it is making our mornings a lot smoother. I hope they don’t get bored with it too soon.

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