An afternoon jaunt

Blue skies and golden sun beckons, after children have rested their weary bones or freed their noses from open books during afternoon quiet time. So books are shoved back into cases and apples are nabbed for the road, and we are off.

They run, these children of mine, only until they find sparkly stones to collect, or striped ones, or just plain gray ones that captivate despite their dullness.

It is quiet no more, with whoops! and hollering all the way up the mountain and back down again.

We reach the lower hill and admire the view. There's our (borrowed) farm under naked branches and fiery stripes of fleeting orange, with its' retired silos, green tin roof, and barbed wire fences that are no match for our ornery cows.

It still sorta stings, knowing it won't be truly ours. People say "God has something better in store for you." but I wonder-what could possibly be better than this? It would be impossible to love something so much. But God is the author of impossible, and so we trust. And WAIT.


Onward ho, to the middle hill. Ever behind, we trudge: she and he and me. If Adele makes it, I will be impressed. We have already come so far. If I were her and having a view like that stare back at me, I would feel defeated, but the one with the littlest strides has the biggest perseverance and makes it to the tip top. A mountain goat, she is. And a teacher to her Mama.

Sister grabs her tired legs and swings her round and round in a happy, giggly embrace when she gets to the top. It is so good to have people to share your successes with. It is so good to see those more accomplished, joyfully celebrating successes not their own.

If that wasn't enough reward, there is always this:

....and looking out and seeing how far you have truly come.

Our mansion house looks just big enough for fairies right about now:


Before she can properly claim she caught up, older brother and sister with the longer legs and faster sprints are off again. DOWN the hill. This time, off their feet and on their bellies.

Miss Fearless watches 'em go, and as usual, tries her own hand at it....


...only to discover it doesn't quite work out so well. Her chubby little arm just gets in the way.

Up and down they go, and we watch. If only I had half their energy.


But instead, I trail along behind, thankful for the girl holding my hand and the baby snoozing in front, both good reasons not to feel like I "can't" but that I "shouldn't."


I spy my own shadow, thankfully still attached (unlike Peter's), and remember a time when this shadow of mine was very similar and yet, very different~ for my baby now, is on the outside and Smooch is now decidedly a "he". Old habits die hard though, and "he" is still decidedly "Smooch" more than Judah.


We trudge home, with pinkish noses, chilled arms, happy hearts and of course, pockets and fingers full of treasures.

The joy is in the journey.

"There is no season when such pleasant and sunny spots may be lighted on, and produce so pleasant an effect on
the feelings, as now in October."
- Nathaniel Hawthorne