Collection

231/365
8:36 p.m.

I'm still going to be shooting (I think), but I won't be posting for awhile. I'll let John be my guest photographer and blogger tomorrow as I am packing for a long journey to be with my family.

Through the Darkness

230/365
4:19 p.m.

Keep moving.

Uncle Tom

229/365
6:37 p.m.

This was taken on July 1 this year, and despite already having a post from that day, I need to do this now. My Uncle Tom, my mom's brother, came riding through Madison on his Harley with less than twenty-four hours notice, and we set out for a whirlwind six-hour Life Catch Up. The boys were enamoured with my uncle, the same way my brother and I were so many years ago. Tom could simultaneously hold a detailed adult conversation and interactively play with the boys....on the floor, running through the rooms, bringing out, oh no! The Claw!! The joyous shrieking and begging for more echoing throughout the house, giving in to them and all the while discussing 1920s Midwest architecture. It was perfect evening. I was wholly present that night, soaking up the conversation, laughing genuinely, listening and sharing intently.

I will be ever grateful he included us on his US motorcycle tour and to those who came to my babysitting rescue later in the evening. I heard from my mom on Thursday evening. Uncle Tom suddenly and unexpectedly passed away. Our hearts are broken. We feel shattered. And we're fumbling in our grief.

As Is

228/365
4:12p.m.

Waiting for lemonade. Will be awhile.

Making the Best of It, Day 3

227/365
11:02a.m.

So much for quarantining Jack in his room. So much for eleventy bazillion raw-inducing hand-washings. So much for a half-dozen sanitizing laundry loads up and down two flights of stairs. (I'm seriously advocating for laundry elevator in homes that do not possess the luxury of second floor services, but I digress.... ) So much for bleaching Legos, doorknobs, faucets. Because Charlie is now "showing symptoms consistent with H1N1."

BAH.

um, well, oops

226/365
6:25p.m.

Um, so, well, you see, we had some Jerk Turkey Burgers for dinner. And, well, um, [shuffling feet], they were the kind that, while delicious, crumbled a bit into the grill. And, so, after they came off and we were busy putting plates together inside--you know where this is going, right?--those little bits of juicy turkey goodness decided to Combust. Shooting Flames. Wooden Fence. Holy Crap. Run! Go! Get! The! Fire! Extinguisher! After several blasting shots of compressed nitrogen, resulting in an upward cascading volcanic billow over the neighborhood, the blaze was adequately snuffed. The wooden fence? Saved! The grill? Maybe not so much.

Making the Best of It

225/365
6:52pm

We're nearing the end of Jack's first 24 hours of what is likely H1N1. We're ever grateful for acetaminophen, diluted Gatorade, cool sheets, a lazy fan, and a ginormous bucket of Legos.

Bicy

224/365
4:32pm

That's Charlie speak for spicy. My grandmother has had radishes displayed in every single crudités platter she has ever arranged, purely for color purposes. I was never a fan, and come to think of it, neither was anyone else because the perfectly sliced root with its crimson skin ever-so-gently bleeding into its stark white center remained untouched while carrots and peppers and broccoli and tomatoes and even cauliflower vanished before guests were called to the dinner table.

I have come around to them in recent years, and I'll even add them to my own crudités platter, even for just the display of color. Though there is something special and memorable in its bicyness.

Reflective

223/365
12:35pm

Can.Not.Get.Enough.Of.Those.Eyes.

Aglow

222/365
7:42am

I have an unrepentant love for photographing trees. I'll try not to make it a habit.

A Cookie of One's Own

221/365
4:18pm

It wasn't intentional. Truly. But I made a chewy, melty, chocolaty, rich cookie that did not appeal to my children's palate. I needed to bring a little something-something for Parent Night, and couldn't pass giving this one a whirl: Chewy Chocolate Gingerbread Cookies. Charlie accepted, not devoured, the cookie, while Jack took a bite and left the rest for his brother. The ginger and molasses failed to captivate their cookie love, but my adult palate felt it was a sublime combination. What does this all mean? I don't have the share the leftovers.

Rouse

220/365
6:32am

The boys and I have seriously adjusted to the uncivilized hour our feet hit the floor since the beginning of the school year. John is typically an early-riser; the switch "only" affected him getting a solid edge on his workday. Surprisingly, the boys have made the transition seamlessly. Not surprisingly, I have doubled my coffee intake. [Don't judge.]

In Appreciation of Golf Course Beauty

219/365
7:36am

Before the spinning and wonderfully chaotic moments of the day take hold, we pause, we delay, we lull, we breathe, we take respite, which is easier to do when this is out your back door.

Star Star Star Star Star

218/365

2:37pm

Jack quickly realized that this guy here dominates the green space and soccer ball with his Fancy Footwork, can meticulously and deftly build a first-rate Lego whatchamacallit with Patience and Heart, can laugh Deeply and Genuinely, and engage with the Love and Trustiness (dude, it's a *real* word) of a superbly awesome Five Star Uncle.

Dimples

217/365
3:09pm

Over the years my mom has collected these from her lush, rolling expanse of a yard, which were delivered by golfers' errant swings. Surely, they were additionally stamped with an appropriate curse word at the moment of Club-To-Ball contact. They jumble together in a large copper bowl on her veranda, equal parts decoration, convenience, and recycling.

Perception

216/365
9:37am

It's not supposed to be eerie, but I suppose the stark contrast and harsh light in B/W is less than friendly.

Technically

215/365
4:02pm

Until I must concede the official beginning of autumn, I am savoring these last remaining golden morsels of summer.

"Summer afternoon - summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language."- Henry James

Perplexed

214/365
4:00pm

How does this happen? Seriously. Not questioning nature here, just wondering how one could be perfectly ripe and ready and the one sharing the same lifeline is Not Even Close.

Yellow

213/365
Several moments between 7:00-9:00am

I suppose I've been putting this off for a couple days because I don't think I can do it justice. Sending my child to kindergarten felt monumental, and it was important for me to be fully present. Being present = Not Behind the Lens. So, my shots are only so-so, my words here are only so-so, but my heart, oh my heart, is full and light and happy like a yellow balloon dotting an azure sky.

As we transitioned to kindergarten and preschool from relaxed summer living over the last several weeks, we were all business: buying supplies, making phone calls, meeting with the nurse and teachers, packing the backpack. Crossing things off The List. Check. Check. Check. That emotion-free approach forced the little yellow balloon to remain properly unaffected and captured, tucked safely away in the cavity of my chest. But seeing Jack walk in line with his class and give a little smile released the happiness. Seeing Charlie not even care I was in his classroom with him released the happiness. Such big boys, going out in the world.

And if you happen to see a yellow balloon all full and light and happy, that's me....ready to burst with pride.

Concentration

212/365
1:59pm

Climbing up the curvy playground ladder. Steady. Steady. Steady. The tongue is clearly a built-in balance feature.