"If you watch how nature deals with adversity, continually renewing itself, you cannot help but learn." - Bernie S. Siegel
Traveling as a way of life and celebrating the joy of living this beautiful life together!
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
Monday, April 28, 2014
A rainy weekend in Massachusetts
JF had a race near Boston, so we decided to make it our first camping weekend of the season. Of course it rained. It *always* rain when we camp in our Westfalia. While JF ran, we tried to stay warm in the van, snuggled under our comforters, reading, knitting, watching tons of different bird species visiting the tree right beside our Westy - from the top bunk, through the little side window in the new roof tent. We made warm coffee for JF (he ended up stopping after 30 km - it was a 50 km race - because he was sick and hadn't slept enough in the previous weeks).
They were all sick and went through 2 kleenex boxes in 48 hours. The wet Westfalia turned into a giant germ incubator. I tried to keep my water bottle to myself, but it was pointless... At some point, Mara was practicing her violin, JF was holding her sheet music, Mathilde and Aïsha were playing Connect4 and I was sitting on the ground reading. In less than 50 square feet. But we are used to do our living and our loving pretty close. So close in fact, that we can see it all, beauty and faults, joy and sorrow, glory and pain. So close we can't focus on them too long...
I made sushis for hungry girls while he was driving. Thinking about the many ham and cheese sandwiches I made on that very same table for my dad and I, when I was their age.
They picked shells while I filled my lungs with salty air. Then, we washed our dishes in dirty sea water that we heated on the stovetop.
Also: perfectly burnt camping toasts. Magnolias in full bloom. Cartwheels in the bright green grass. Yellow forsythia everywhere.
I came back with a sore throat, a pretty dirty Westfalia and a very full heart.
They were all sick and went through 2 kleenex boxes in 48 hours. The wet Westfalia turned into a giant germ incubator. I tried to keep my water bottle to myself, but it was pointless... At some point, Mara was practicing her violin, JF was holding her sheet music, Mathilde and Aïsha were playing Connect4 and I was sitting on the ground reading. In less than 50 square feet. But we are used to do our living and our loving pretty close. So close in fact, that we can see it all, beauty and faults, joy and sorrow, glory and pain. So close we can't focus on them too long...
:: After 10 km, cold and wet, but still smiling ::
:: Knitting, playing, drawing, eating while papa is running in the rain::
I made sushis for hungry girls while he was driving. Thinking about the many ham and cheese sandwiches I made on that very same table for my dad and I, when I was their age.
They picked shells while I filled my lungs with salty air. Then, we washed our dishes in dirty sea water that we heated on the stovetop.
Also: perfectly burnt camping toasts. Magnolias in full bloom. Cartwheels in the bright green grass. Yellow forsythia everywhere.
I came back with a sore throat, a pretty dirty Westfalia and a very full heart.
Friday, April 25, 2014
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
The sweet spot
We woke up to the phone ringing and a short deadline. To hungry and grumpy children. To a messy kitchen.
Somewhere, mid-afternoon we found the sweet spot. Two playing. One practicing the piano. The house (mostly) tidy. It was so good I was afraid to breathe.
Somewhere, mid-afternoon we found the sweet spot. Two playing. One practicing the piano. The house (mostly) tidy. It was so good I was afraid to breathe.
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
4
You turned 4 running with your friends in the backyard, energized by the new warmth, proud of your shiny knight costume. There were cupcakes with maple icing. Popcorn. A beautiful fruit plates. Birthday clementines, you said. Lots of friendly duels. And a unique story prepared by people who love you. A perfect celebration of the wonderful soul that you are.
Monday, April 21, 2014
Shoots and branches
We found a patch of Hosta shoots under the snow. So many broken branches everywhere. A piggy back ride. We followed the creeks made by the quickly-melting snow in the dirt roads and walked back home with a very wet little girl.
Sunday, April 20, 2014
A mother's ability to set the tone...
A mother's ability to set the tone for the whole family is a powerful thing.
And a totally dreadful thing.
And a totally dreadful thing.
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