Isn't it Ironic. Don't you think?

When the photographers take photos of each other taking photos?

(I am off to photograph a wedding today so this is all the blogpost I have time for.  No Pipsqueak yet!)

(I bet you think this song is about you...don't you?!)

In Which Andrew Throws A Dance

 Andrew and Zion took a break from roofing and decided to throw themselves a community dance.  

Lotsa people were invited.  

Lots of dancing ensued.

(I may have been roped into helping decorate...)

And looking back at these pictures just now, makes me joyful and sad at the same time... because one of the friendliest smiles you ever could meet, walking casually across the photo above, is now beaming his smile in Glory.

 And time on earth just never seems enough for those of us still here.

The Newman Campout 2025

Of course, there was tubing.

and boating...

...and waterskiing.

(or should I say ATTEMPTS at water-skiing?)

It took two years but Judah persevered and eventually got it!

Kem was SO CLOSE!  He tried again.  And again.  And AGAIN.  (The man doesn't give up, that's for sure!)  I thought he had it this time...

...but then...

Next year, Kemuel!

They kept at it until the sky painted itself pink.

Moses smokes a mer-man pipe

cornhole, four square, chalk and basketball

Aunt Holly brings fancy snacks

First time is a looong time, Grandma and Grandpa went in the water too.  It was fun to see.

Grandma's idea.

Thank goodness Pipsqueak's absence deterred her from using it as a Christmas card.

old family movies

Adele' spies and photographs mermaids...

Nathan and Leia show us photos and tell us all about their trip to Scotland.  They let us sample different bourbons and whiskey.

(I can't say I loved them.  ick.)

I had to snap a picture because Corynn was not in an oversized t-shirt or sweatshirt for once!  ;-)

And!  She really went above and beyond.  Notice how her sunglasses match her skirt.  

I'm sure she did this on purpose.  

For sure.

 Overexposed, but still cute!

My favorite part

In the wee small hours of morning, when children are still sleeping off a night full of movies, whispers and candy-fueled giggles and the menfolk are off to milk cows and do morning chores, I find myself alone in the early morning quiet. 

I have always taken this opportunity to go out in a kayak all alone, to listen to the quiet echo of sounds not usually noticed.  The gentle swish of a paddle pushing through water.  The distant call of a bird across the lake.  The glug of a frog, somewhere in the mist.  The flip of a fish.  A few distant voices from a fishing boat, clear across the water.  

And to see things slowly.  Things I don't normally see.  The sleepy waterlily waking up and stretching toward the sun.  A bustling dragonfly, already buzzing about his day.  The magical mirror of stone-still water.  The haze, that ebbs and flows.   The million different shades of things I usually see as just plain green.  The piebald head of an eagle, perched high and silent.  The blue heron that so serenely and picturesquely stood under a tree on the edge of the water; that is, just until the moment I was close enough to take a picture...and then he flew away.

I take notice, is what I do.  I don't often grant myself the privilege of slowing down enough to take notice.

I sat in the middle of the lake, feeling the sway of the boat as the fog rolled in around me and enveloped me in a wall of white.  There was no point in taking photos after that.  But what the fog had hoped to thwart- I welcomed... because I had come prepared with a book.  For an hour, I couldn't see past the tip of my kayak, reading about Rudyard Kipling's childhood, in an eerie cloak of invisibility.  

Eventually, I hear a splash and giggles, telling me that children are awake and back in the water and then the men's voices, returning with blazing hot coffee, and I am beckoned away from India and back into reality.  The fog is so thick I can't see anything in any direction... so I point the tip of the kayak toward the voices and hope for the best.

And then, poof, almost as if by magic, the fog lifted and there I was, ready to start the day.  Fresher.  More thankful.  More rested.  More observant. More filled.

And I think, once again, what it must have been like for Matt and his brothers to be raised with this remarkable gift right at the end of their driveway.

And then I remember that it was in the noticing, not the location, that I was filled.

Perhaps where I stand each moment, there is as much beauty and magic and serenity- if only I had eyes to see.

This hurried world needs to slow down and start noticing things.

I need to slow down and start noticing again.

"It must be a great disappointment to God is we are not dazzled at least ten times a day. "     -Mary Oliver 

Never lose an opportunity of seeing anything beautiful, for beauty is God's handwriting."  - Ralph Waldo Emerson