bright spots.

an early rain has swept through and i’m sandwiched in miracle on every side.





above: a woolen sky sponging light all silvery-clean, and the sugar maples turning pink in the ears.

beneath: streets rinsed dark and freckled gold with confetti leaflets from locust trees.





and beside: a small boy with his hand perched in mine like a starling, and how sometimes he cups the heart of his palm to grasp mine back.



* * *



please stop by em's space for more imperfect prose.

progress.

we stepped out beneath yesterday's mild sun, and just a block into our walk m decided he was done, thanks for playing. when our driveway didn't magically materialize, we entered Stage One of coming apart at the seams, but after a few minutes something unprecedented occurred:

he regrouped and pressed on

--albeit with pouting cheeks staunch enough to mobilize armies--but still, his feet had voluntary forward motion and i couldn't help but cheer him on at this one sweet step toward growing up.





in other news, katie's book is out (well, almost out--you can pre-order for the oct 4 release). without even reading it, i can tell you it's a must-read.






in other other news, fall is pretty much the best idea i've ever heard of. i grew up in the Land of It's Always Summer, and three-fourths of the year i hatch schemes that involve a trip back home. but come september and you couldn't pry me from the flaming trees and crisped fields of my trusty ol' midwest.

PLUS.

in six weeks' time, my mum and dad and little brother and aunt are flying way across over to see us, and i cannotwait. and i should probably start cleaning.

happy friday, friends. :)

crumbs.

this first brush of september has been unusually brisk, and i am so in love. it's like an early heap of autumn, honey locusts fanning gold, that hard shot of sun sieved and softened through layers of cold. i am rocking the knee socks and wooly jackets and it's good times everywhere.

more happy crumbs:




morning work, and a little boy who is blazing his way through the roman alphabet.







pieced quilt tops, finally done. i have an inexplicable fondness for zigzagging, but lining those guys up can be pesky business. i'm also back to shooting portrait sessions and hammering silver and letmetellyou: it feels amazing to set my hand to tasks yielding visible results.






zany kiddos and a kitchenful of warm streusely-blueberry air.











harvest-autumn books from the library. tractor (craig brown) follows the work of a trusty red machine from planting to harvest on an organic farm growing sweet corn.







hurry, hurry, mary dear is a fallish book constructed from the silly rhyme of late poet nm bodecker, paired with erik blegvad's watercolors. the ending has a dash of humor that i'll leave a surprise. love it.






no photograph here, but i'm loving my six and seven year olds out on the soccer field. they're so much giggly exuberance, and i've one little guy who ran off from saturday's game calling, see you at practice, coach. I LOVE SOCCERRRRR! they are good for my old crotchety soul. :)


and even the hard spots are a whole bunch of good in their own way, pushing down roots of patience and mettle in the darkness, whittling off the parts of me gone stale.






what are your crumbs this week?

and now back to my regularly scheduled sanity.

'tis the season when saturdays mean the smell of grass and sun, and two of our middles shin-guard-up for another fierce match.

the mister is coaching (big) m's team, and i've got elle's passel of U8-ers, so between juggling our players and our own five small folk, we've taken frenzied to a whole new level.




m was great out there. he's small, but a force to be reckoned with, and he kicks some serious hindquarters on defense. this is elle's first year, so i had my doubts, but luckily she did not channel her mother at this age (ie timid and ducking the ball). she plunged right in to that amoeba of jostling legs and even dribbled down the field several times.




in other news, i have recently recovered my emotional balance and (painfully dry) sense of humor, and i've decided that my way of approaching the day is loads more fun than the alternative. so pretty much it's okay if little m shrieks for hours on end and takes the scenic route to learning limits. i can still have a perfectly decent day.

and furthermore, if he decides to stop yelling long enough to join in on our good time, he is absolutely welcome to do so.













and sometimes he does.

:)

thank you, Jesus.

let the sky tumble.

there's this early bit of morning when the trees ripple gold and the grass is quiet, unwrinkled, and the day seems possible.


and then there's the actual day. :)












it's easy to see God in the quiver of bulrushes, effortless to spot Him in a tatted cotton sky. what's not so painless is to search Him out in the desolate places, to trust His goodness and enough-ness when everything i touch comes up dust.


but right now i'm hoping at the top of my lungs (again) with mandi mapes:

whom have i
when my heart begins to fail
when sorrow fills the streets
and sounds of death prevail
Jesus is my hope
and i know He stills the wind
so take my very life away
as long as i get Him






so let the sky fall down
and earth and cities quake
and i'll say of my God and King
Lord, blessed be Your name.


He's still here. He's still mine. blessed be Your name.


* * *


come on over to emily's for more imperfect prose.