a love list

Snuggle time with T where he reveals his deepest paleontological theories ("...maybe T-Rex doesn't really have short arms, maybe they just haven't found all the arm bones yet...").

Breeze at the garden that makes the pigweed do a twirly dance on the stem.

Pears getting good and ripe on the counter.

Tiny bits of colorful knitting found all around the house (evidence of J's prolific creating).

Calypso beans snug in their crackly cases on the vine, becoming themselves again (from yin-yang patterned, to green, back to yin-yang).

there is rain

There is rain and I feel my soul lapping it up, the parched garden drinking it in. There is Ruckus and inspiration for a game all our own, woodland animal illustrations on each. There are harsh words between sister and brother in the next room and my stomach tightens, feeling pulled, but I sit instead. There are crackers, made and tasted. There is laundry tumbling in the warm cocoon of the dryer. There are hopes and intentions. There are dreams to build a business like a tree house. Limb to limb, layer upon layer, generations of great grand-others holding us up on their strong shoulders, tossing down apples for pie, their stories shared or else imagined.