weaving in the ends...

adventures

noreply@blogger.com (Corinne) — Thu, 21 Feb 2013 00:16:00 +0000

Last Friday the kids and I were in desperate need of an adventure day. The temperatures warmed and the sun shone brightly and the highway called. Luckily, we are less than an hour from Maine and a few favorite places. Nubble Light house, the Maine Diner, and Parsons beach were our stomping grounds. {there was also a detour to the Old Navy outlet when someone fell in a tide pool and was soaking wet from the waist down... it wasn't me...}

There is something freeing and exhilarating when you toss routine aside and opt for a day trip. Especially when it involves salt air and lobster macaroni and cheese.

Parsons beach, especially, is one of my favorite places in all of Maine. There was one night that Lucas and I were there, the first summer we were together. Ahead of us walked Lucas's parents, as well as his brother and sister in law. We stayed behind, held hands, marveled over the sunset - the pinks and purple hues. We lost the pictures from that night, but there's one that still sits on Lucas's dresser. My heart swells and a lump grows in my throat when I think of that evening, how we were so newly in love and yet we knew that forever was to be ours together.

We've been back to Parsons just a handful of times with the kids. It's a tiny beach and in the summer months it gets crowded... so we more than often opt for the beach where there is easier parking. But sharing that particular beach with my kids last week was so amazingly special. We spent two hours playing and walking and marveling over whole trees that washed ashore, the roots rolled into driftwood. How time and the elements soften, smooth, and mold many a rough edge.

We left covered in sand, but with smiles and hearts eager to get home to Lucas. And I will admit, with an excitement for warmer weather and weeks open completely for adventure days...

dreaming

noreply@blogger.com (Corinne) — Wed, 20 Feb 2013 00:23:00 +0000

By this window, I sit and dream. Of a trip to Iceland that pulls at my heart. Perhaps one to Scotland, also subtly calling. I dream of spring time; buds on trees, flowing skirts and sunshine that warms even with a breeze. I dream of a little cottage by the sea, painted yellow. And a red house that is married to an apple orchard. There would be a barn with a swing... maybe with a few sheep. Children running, laughter joined with sunshine and long hair effortlessly chasing heads. I dream of words. Mine, yours, his and hers. Spoken and written and spilled into mugs of tea. February light slinks through the window pane and I dream.

the ramble before the storm

noreply@blogger.com (Corinne) — Thu, 07 Feb 2013 18:21:00 +0000

And so February comes and the mild winter goes out the window as we are anticipating a mega snowstorm. It will be an Epic Storm, according to the local weathermen. We are skeptical, but we still prepare. Lucas is at the grocery store as I type. He's working from home today. The commuter car is having issues again and needs to be taken in for something to do with the power steering. We cross our fingers and hope for the best, though we prepare for the worst. So for his lunch break he is at the grocery store, with countless others who are stocking up for who knows how much snow, and bread and milk and chocolate. I am at home with the first full on cold I've had in months. The mother cold - sniffly nose, but not enough to keep you down - is not applicable here. This is a man cold... seriously... you all know what I'm talking about. Fynn had it on Monday, then Paige and I got it.... we all took a sick day on Monday, but the lessons still continue this week. Fynn's reading has taken off, and Paige is starting to remember things like letter sounds and is learning about tens and ones...

We are learning together about snowflakes. How they start from a teeny tiny particle and grow. How it takes so many tiny cloud droplets (like 100,000!) to make a snowflake heavy enough for it to land in front of our faces. So many tiny particles that add up to a beautiful, delicate, complicated snowflake. Mother nature is glorious.

Big sigh.

And so February comes. As it always does. And we are here, surviving until spring on hot tea and books and sunshine that lasts longer every day. Lessons and man colds and car woes and sick days and snowstorms... these little frustrations, in addition to the simple pleasures of love and life, add up to a whole of a beautiful, delicate, complicated existence.

stealing moments

noreply@blogger.com (Corinne) — Tue, 29 Jan 2013 22:25:00 +0000

I've been reading Barbara Kingsolver's new book Flight Behavior, in my spare moments. I steal a few pages here and there. It is about a stay at home mother on a farm, and a visit from thousands of butterflies which brings up questions of climate change and the story drifts between back woods hillbilly dialect and scientific jargon that is above my head. I kind of like it.

Kingsolver writes about her main character: "But being a stay-at-home mom was the loneliest kind of lonely, in which she was always and never by herself."

Always and never by herself... that resonates deeply, doesn't it?

Today I have played two games of checkers, and at least twelve of Candy Land. I have educated my children on the Milky Way. I have taught two different math lessons, a reading lesson, and read several books just because. Made lunch. Made brownies. Started pizza dough. All with help... and I love it, do not get me wrong.

But I'm here, stealing moments because my moments do count just as my children's do. I have cut two pieces of tape off of a pain in the ass tape dispenser for my six year, just in the last few moments as I've typed. And my four year old sits next to me coloring because lord knows we couldn't be more than two feet apart at any given time. And as I type that, I smile. Because I wouldn't want it any other way, truly.

There are times though, when moments need to be stolen. My brain thinks in fragments as I expect interruptions. Multi tasking is par for the course in motherhood, as we all know. And yet. And yet there are times when my creative being, every fiber of it, yells and screams until I say "No, those six games of Candy Land were enough, mama needs a minute" and I take it.

I take that moment and explode something beautiful on a page and I will hold that notebook or blog post dear to my heart, whatever comes of it, because it was created in a moment that I needed.

Yes, this season of motherhood is fleeting. But so is my own existence. All of ours.

And so, I will make space. I will steal moments as I can. I will console the loneliness that comes from never having a quiet moment with a scribbled word. This multitasking, these bits of creating on the fly, they are preparing the artists mothers among us for a time when ideas are abundant and children are grown, and time unfolds before us with unlimited possibilities.

Priorities. Stolen moments are among mine.

three

noreply@blogger.com (Corinne) — Sat, 26 Jan 2013 20:49:00 +0000

{calendar from the lovely Janine's shop...}

Yesterday the kids and I returned from a week long adventure. We drove hundreds of miles away, the three of us. We saw dear friends, and loving family. The kids were excellent. The only tantrums thrown on the drives were possibly my own... seriously... the kids were amazing. And they did it without the aid of electronic devices {except the cd player in our car}. The read, they drew, we all talked and sang and listened to each other and gazed out the window. Believe me, we don't shelter the kids from technology... they both know how to work a tablet or a smart phone and the tv remotes... but we also believe in imagination and getting bored for long enough to start to entertain yourself with what is right in front of you. I remember taking the same drive as a child to see my grandparents, and I lived in stories. In my head and on the page. You can't get there if you are slinging birds at pigs and being entertained by a device.

All that being said I'm sure if we had a dvd player in the car we would have made good use of it... but then again... I'm not sure. The drive was pleasant, even magical at times, and I wouldn't have done it any other way.

When we arrived home from our week away the kids caught up on hugs from their daddy and I looked through the mail. I found a calendar sent from Northern Ireland, to replace the one I had up last year from the same artist. I love seeing the photographs and the dates combined hung over the bookshelf in the living room. Books and days and photos... a beautiful combination.

Today marks the third year of my sobriety. Three sets of twelve months... three years is a hefty amount of days. I'm not boasting, but I feel the need to put that out there to honor it. Three years. And it's about so much more than simply not consuming alcohol. It's about making a choice to live with intention, to pay attention to what is right in front of me, and to not zone out and tune out and mask life and partake in something that makes me not someone I like. I'm protective of my sobriety. I know how fragile it really is, like anything else in life. I don't write about finding my way through life without a drink nearly as much as I used to. Partly because after all of the "firsts" without {holidays, birthdays, seasons...} it got so much easier for me. Partly because there is so much more to me and my life than just my sobriety, and when I write about one particular thing I tend to loose sight of everything else. All of these days I've accumulated sober, they are not simply days to check off that I have gotten through, they are days that I have lived. Fully and awake and flawed and perfectly imperfect....

A book and a few to do lists are calling. I have a feeling that for today reading with a cup of tea will win. Enjoy today. Read a book. Dream up a story. Indulge in the moment... there are none other like this one.

happy sobs

noreply@blogger.com (Corinne) — Wed, 16 Jan 2013 13:14:00 +0000

From the backseat she speaks up:

"Mom?"

"Yes, Paige?"

"I'm pregnant."

{I blame The Fantastic Mr. Fox and that scene where the young Mrs. Fox utters that phrase...}

She has no idea what that phrase really means. The hugeness of it. She only knows that she is pretending she's going to have a baby. And I smile because she is four, and not sixteen while she utters those words.

~~~

I'm making dinner, stirring macaroni and smelling the breadcrumb covered chicken in the oven. It smells like my childhood. Something in the corner catches my eye, and by second nature I pick up Fynn's shoe and start walking to the trash to dump the mound of sand that found its way into his sneaker. Out of nowhere a sob catches in my throat. Only it's one of those happy sobs. I'm caught in the joy of taking care of little shoes and little bodies.

~~~

Their littleness catches me off guard most of the time. Their voices are so large, their thoughts so big, their presence so huge... the smallness of them, it surprises me. And when it does, my whole being shifts, and the gentleness returns and all I can do is sweep them up and deliver mama bear hugs and kisses because not only do my littles allow the unabashed mother love, they need it for their littleness to flourish and grow.

all in a picture

noreply@blogger.com (Corinne) — Tue, 15 Jan 2013 21:31:00 +0000

It'll be no surprise to anyone when I say this: I love instagram. With a passion. I love looking back on my feed, at the neat and pretty timeline where all you see are pictures and maybe a little bit below on the actual happenings. Even on the bad days, the pictures are good. The picture above didn't make it to instagram... but it was on my phone from yesterdays sunny 60 degree beach adventure. I love the sun flairs. The unedited silhouette. The piece of a lobster trap that Fynn held onto for the whole trip.

Another thing I love about instagram is being able to see, in one spot, pretty clearly what is important to me and my family. There's a few consistent themes. Kids. Beach. Yarn. Books. Tea.

When the going gets tough, we hit the beach. Not to say that we only go when there are stormy seas in my head or around us, but often times I can look at the pictures of a beach day and know what was going through my head, good or bad. Most are good. Some, eh. Yesterday I know that during the time we were at the beach, climbing rocks and looking for perfectly smooth stones, it was the best part of the day. Because there we are just as at ease as we are at home... only with the sounds of the sea that you cannot replicate anywhere else except sitting close to the waves at high tide where you can only hear the smile of the person next to you because the waves drown out the whines and complaints.... and you are left with giggles and ocean spray and the knowledge that you hold a little bit of space in this vast universe... and that space is beautiful.

home

noreply@blogger.com (Corinne) — Mon, 14 Jan 2013 13:29:00 +0000

My son is six years old. I tell him stories about when he was in my tummy. How my belly ballooned out and I lost my balance and sense of where I began and where I ended. How I dreamed of him in the middle of the night, rubbing my belly, awake with wonder. I tell him how my body was his first home. And he smiles with soft eyes. He tells me it must have been dark. But warm.

watercolors

noreply@blogger.com (Corinne) — Fri, 11 Jan 2013 22:13:00 +0000

We saved the afternoon with gentle brush strokes on copy paper. Turned the grumps into artists, and marveled how colors mixed and yet didn't muddy. How imperfections made our papers beautiful and unique. Watercolors are my favorite... how each swipe of the brush is different than the one before.

The Weepies played on Pandora and a little girl sat next to me and a boy across the table. And it was perfect. Even though we were tired from a sleepless week. Even though we there were paint puddles on the table. Even though at the beginning not everyone wanted to sit at that table. It was still perfect.

Skinny paint brushes stealing airy kisses with paper...

listen

noreply@blogger.com (Corinne) — Thu, 10 Jan 2013 14:06:00 +0000

I wasn't going to do it. It was feeling too popular, and trendy, and I just wasn't. Then I did it. I picked a darn word for the year, begrudgingly. And then the universe acknowledged it and kept sending me messages that I was on the right track....

My word for 2013 is listen.

In general, I'm a good listener... to other people. But to myself? Do I listen to myself? My inner workings and desires and hopes and *gasp* dreams? Not so much. Listening is tricky, because listening to your head is not the same as listening to your heart. I have a coaster that says "Don't believe everything you think" which illustrates my point.

There are stirrings within that need to be heard. But without a bit of quiet, without a bit of desire to hear them, they will wander away, lost without hope.

So here's to listening. For there are whispers of ideas, dreams, and wishes that need to be heard.

Do you have a word for 2013? Will you share? Join us over at Alita's today!

knits and knits and more knits

noreply@blogger.com (Corinne) — Wed, 09 Jan 2013 14:22:00 +0000

Right after Christmas my enthusiasm for knitting came back in full force. Not that I had lost it... but finishing up mounds of hand knit Christmas gifts left me wanting a little indulgent 'just because' knitting, both for myself and others. And so I dove in, and am now coming up for a bit of fresh air....

{my Effortless sweater... worked in bits through December for my sanity when I couldn't work on a gift in front of the recipient! Finally finished just after Christmas. Love it! It is comfortable, and warm, and the perfect every day sweater.}

{two little Boheme sweaters for two sweet babies...}

{a Honey Crisp cowl for a dear friend across the country}

{my Damson shawl/scarf... I'm really, totally in love with this one. And it has me excited to work on two other shawls over the next few weeks!}

There's a little cowl on the needles for Fynn, and a few projects in queue, but right now I'm enjoying picking up the needles without a sense of urgency. I'm so happy to have gotten a bit of speed knitting out of my system before settling back into school...

january landings

noreply@blogger.com (Corinne) — Mon, 07 Jan 2013 20:39:00 +0000

I'm huddled in blankets this afternoon, with a hot cup of tea in hand. By my side is a jedi master with a foam sword for a light saber. He has a new pair of jammies - Star Wars Angry Birds - that he was horrified by yesterday but is okay with today. Yesterday he was horrified by almost everything. Today he is proud of a simultaneous jump and swing of the light saber and his gentle landing.

This time of year always leaves me tired. Depleted. Like my little jedi, I'm horrified by much one day and then at peace with it the next. The energy it takes to move from one moment to the next is often more than I'd care to admit. I'm not sad. I'm just tired. Searching for vitamin D where I can, calm where I can, snuggles when they'll let me, and days filled with books and knitting.

I suppose I swing a light saber made of knitting needles and Sharpie pens {depending on the hour} and practice my jump and, inevitably, my landing.

bigger picture moment: best of 2012

noreply@blogger.com (Corinne) — Thu, 03 Jan 2013 11:00:00 +0000

Do you feel it? The excitement and anticipation of a new year? I love the freshness. But during this time of year I always like to look back at the previous year, and relish in the moments that stand out. Both good, and bad, because from those we grow and learn and become more of who we are in our beautiful unique lives.

Would you join us today in looking back so that we can move forward?

Do you have a favorite Bigger Picture Moment of yours from 2012 that you'd like to revisit, to share again?

Link up your Best of 2012 Bigger Picture Moment below! We are looking forward to revisiting, encouraging, and empowering the moments from 2012 that feel the most powerful to you!

Are you choosing a word for 2013? Many of us are, and we'd love to hear all about your word... next week we'll be linking up at Alita's, and we encourage you to join us in writing about our individual word choices of the year!

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a ramble on 2013

noreply@blogger.com (Corinne) — Wed, 02 Jan 2013 13:26:00 +0000

Here we are. 2013. Hello you beautiful, blank canvas of a year! I spent some time yesterday thinking about intentions for the year, words for the year, ultimately just the new year. What I am left with are desires for things to happen. But not just for this present year, for the future in general. For life in general. The last few months have been so full of finding ourselves in this life of homeschooling. All in good ways. But now I'm finding myself wanting to settle into what works for us, and letting myself dream a little of big things that don't necessarily pertain to homeschooling. Like learning how to design and write knit patterns. Like maybe falling back in love with writing. Like breathing joy instead of worry into moments. Like catching up on Downton Abby and a few novels that are on my night stand.

Like listening to what my heart, not just my mind, needs.

2013, let's lean in close and listen to each other and make this the best year yet.

{for those who do this sort of thing... my word of the year - for the first time ever! - is listen. Maybe more on that another time!}

we Christmas'ed, and we did it well

noreply@blogger.com (Corinne) — Fri, 28 Dec 2012 13:58:00 +0000

the holiday came, and it still lingers... and this weekend brings more. we enjoyed and savored. and for one year, i am quieting the urge to take it all down before the new year :)

hoping your holiday was rich in peace and memories...

{mama/Santa made dinosaur hoodie... he loves it!}

{uncle toby reading to paige...}

{daddy helping with a snap circuit set... another hit}

{turkey leg for my turkey...}

...

noreply@blogger.com (Corinne) — Tue, 18 Dec 2012 13:41:00 +0000

Love intentionally.
Move in compassion.
Live kindness.
Let the tears spill and say names in honor and memory.
...
Hot tears have been spilling down my cheeks, like everyone else. My heart hurts. The above is the only way I know how to move forward. May peace be with everyone.

Silent Night

noreply@blogger.com (Corinne) — Mon, 03 Dec 2012 21:02:00 +0000

Each year we head north to Kennebunkport Maine to participate in Christmas Prelude, a celebration of Christmas. During my favorite part of the weekend, we walk, bundled in layers and mittens and hats, to Saint Anthony's Franciscan Monastery to raise our voices by candlelight. It is this thirty to forty minutes that I hold as holy in my heart.

This year was no different. I choked back tears as we sang about the birth of Jesus and heard narration of the story we all know so well. It was holy. There is no other way to put it.

On our way out, Paige and I were holding hands, I was humming Silent Night. She raised her voice and said "Mama, when did God make us?" I responded that God helped mommy and daddy to make her about five years ago, when she started growing in my belly. She replied: "so, God helped you and daddy?" and I said "Yes, so there are parts of mommy and parts of daddy, and parts of God in you. That's what makes us all so special! We are all different, but in this one way, we all have bits of God in us, and it makes us all alike."

So simple. And yet so beautiful.

And then she was quiet, satisfied. And we hummed together.

Silent night. Holy night. All is calm...

Will you join us in our 'Twas the Write before Christmas over at Bigger Picture Blogs?

bigger picture moments: leaning in

noreply@blogger.com (Corinne) — Thu, 29 Nov 2012 22:16:00 +0000

Oh my word it has been a while... two weeks? Life has gotten busy, or maybe I'm simply more willing to lean into it at this point. To the learning how to read, the telling time, the endless questions that need answers and the reading chapter books to a four year old. There is no grand "I've been so busy I can't write because..." but instead it's more of a "I've been living my life and the computer hasn't been open..." The down moments are spent planning the next craft, sipping a cup of tea, or making sure to get the butter from the fridge so it can end up being room temperature in time for bread or cookies. And I am not complaining. I kind of love this quiet stay at home by the warm oven and knit in the spare moments kind of life.

'Tis the season.

And I will lean into it, every last red, white and green sprinkle covered moment.

Today we are linking up at Hyacynth's... join us?

bigger picture moment: six

noreply@blogger.com (Corinne) — Thu, 15 Nov 2012 11:00:00 +0000

Today, the boy who made me a mama turns six. SIX. For real. I can hardly wrap my head around the hugeness and yet still smallness of six. He is breathtaking. I am so thankful to know him, to be his mother, to be able to be with him every day. I love how he explains the world around him, and challenges it at the same time... and how his very existence makes this world so much brighter.

I am so thankful for him. My six year old. My little snuggle bug. My son.

This month for our Bigger Picture Moments we are focusing on gratitude.

Will you join us? Link up below!

frost farm

noreply@blogger.com (Corinne) — Sun, 11 Nov 2012 23:53:00 +0000

It is an old building... a big white house with a big white barn. Green doors. Acres behind. Mowed. A stone wall. Some woods. A stream. And yet, it is so much more.

Robert Frost's New Hampshire farm is breathtaking in its simplicity. We spent a few hours there on Saturday, soaking in the late autumn sun. We listened to the stream bubble over leaves and sticks. The kids dropped sticks in and followed hooting and hollering as they meandered downstream. Moss grew and woodpeckers made their presence known.

On Instagram I posed the question, how could you not breathe poetry if you lived here? It is a place of poetry, as I believe nature is intended to be. A poem, or love song, given to us by a creator so divine and vast.. Nature as a love language... hmm... something to ponder.

Both Walden and Frost's farm within an hour of our little home? Unreal. Such a gift.

We ran as if to meet the moon.

~Robert Frost

bigger picture moment: snow

noreply@blogger.com (Corinne) — Thu, 08 Nov 2012 14:26:00 +0000

Before I tucked myself into bed last night I had to strongly dismiss the urge to wake up the kids. I saw the first snow of the year. And it was magical. But I let them sleep... because waking up to snow after a good nights sleep {and after trying to knock the germs away... my littles were tired...} is just as good as falling asleep with the excitement of snowflakes.

And so they woke up to SNOW.

Paige said "mama, I've never seen so much snow!" which might not be true... but still... super cute.

We rushed through breakfast and before I had even brushed my teeth they were dressed and whipping out favorite mittens and hats and dawning their new winter boots.

I am so thankful that today, while there were no official snow delays, we had our own.

We played in the snow. We threw snowballs. We shoveled. We laughed. We got soaking wet and when it was time to come in it started raining...

We were able to postpone our to-do's and our should do's for some snow play before the rain came and washed it away.

Thankful doesn't even begin to cover it. Moments like this where we recognize that our life fits us, they are priceless.

today we are linking up with Jade... spending the month of November on gratitude.

Will you share your stories of thankfulness with us?

thinking

noreply@blogger.com (Corinne) — Tue, 06 Nov 2012 14:05:00 +0000

Fynn's been sick. Like fever, barely eating, tylenol every 4 hours, snuggles and lots of sleep sick. Not fun. So this morning instead of voting as a whole family Lucas and I took turns heading over to the high school where our whole town votes.

I might have choked back a few tears.

Mostly because I just like to vote. A little because I love having my kids with me when I vote, and that just didn't happen today.. and maybe a little because I'm concerned for the outcome of the election. Like most people. I've been hopeful and positive, but something about the polling experience this morning rubbed me the wrong way. I can't explain it. The atmosphere or something... there was a lot of worry maybe? I'm really not sure.

Now I'm home again, and Lucas is off to work, and Fynn finally woke up this morning and hasn't needed a does of tylenol since the 3am one... we're snuggling and my mind is going in a million directions. I'm thinking about how annoying it must be for the kids to have smart phones be an extension of their parents. I'm thinking about how I've been resisting the pull to simply dive in fully and make this the season for school and kids and us time. How there will be time for writing endeavors and creating outside of with the kids if it is meant to be. I've been thinking about how maybe I'm simply not made for writing for publication and mothering and homeschooling all at the same time.

And that's okay.

Maybe I'll change my tune next week and take on projects and start a novel and submit things right and left. But today, I'm thinking no. I'm thinking that this is what it is. My life is beautiful and full and if I add too much more too it I won't enjoy the simplicity of now. The kids as they are. The art of making a beautiful chicken noodle soup for sickies. If I take away the "shoulds" from my mind (like, I should be working to submit x y or z... or I should be promoting myself somehow for gain later on...) the things in front of me are so much clearer. So much more beautiful and real.

The reshifting of priorities always takes time and makes us stretch and grow in not all the most comfortable ways. Why is it that taking things off the table, freeing up space and room, is uncomfortable? Like if we're not working on something every minute of the day our worth somehow goes down. But it's the opposite. So I am going to snuggle and knit and drink tea and homeschool the heck out of today.

And I will stop the glorification of busy. And start the glorification of putting peace into the empty spaces...

{source...}

bigger picture moment: a cup of tea

noreply@blogger.com (Corinne) — Thu, 01 Nov 2012 14:54:00 +0000

This picture, taken shortly before we lost power on Monday {which was out only for 24 hours}, is what I keep coming back to this week. A hot cup of tea. The warmth of the kettle. The halo of fluorescent light. The power of the simple action of making tea and sipping liquid home.

Today we're linking up with Alita... Next week, and for the remainder of November, we will be writing about what we are thankful for. Will you join us?

bigger picture moment: tension

noreply@blogger.com (Corinne) — Thu, 25 Oct 2012 13:58:00 +0000

Do you feel it? The tension? It's everywhere right now.

And I don't think it's just politically charged.

As someone who struggles with moderation, with putting things into boxes, with labeling and categorizing... I feel a heightened awareness when others are struggling with the same thing. I feel like everyone I talk to, see on Facebook, encounter in the grocery store, is struggling.

The challenge is living simply, kindly, and then making our own stories known and our personal opinions known and our choices known, without making the rest of the world feel like their choices are bad. Wrong. Not good.

For example... I won't go into my own politics {though if you have seen the bumper of my car, you are probably fully aware of who I support...} but lets just say that my father and I disagree on politics. Totally. Probably forever will. But ultimately, even though we vote differently, at the end of the day we still love and respect each other.

That's the piece that I feel is getting left behind all too often.

In the end, love each other.

Give each other grace.

Your choices are yours, they are not right for everyone.

Your political opinion is yours, it is not right for everyone.

Your way of feeding your family is right for your family, it is not right for everyone.

Your values are yours, they are not right for everyone.

Your way of parenting is right for your family, it is not right for everyone.

Your way of educating your children is right for your family, it is not right for everyone.

The bigger picture? We need to give each other grace. We need to absolutely acknowledge and respect ourselves and others as individuals, but still need to come together at the end of the day with love and kindness towards humanity.

Love each other, people. Please don't forget.

Today we are linking up at Hyacynth's... will you join us?

poetry in the woods

noreply@blogger.com (Corinne) — Tue, 23 Oct 2012 23:09:00 +0000

I remember memorizing the poem. My first. Robert Frost and his words were key in my education on poetry and nature. When I look at this picture of Paige, being so very her... it makes me think of the poem and I can't help but smile.

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

~Robert Frost