eight.

L turned eight two weekends back, and in lieu of a friend-party she opted for a day with mom&co. we baked early morning cinnamon streusel muffins, which she ended up not crazy about ('it turns out i'm not actually a cinnamon person'), then fashioned a birthday crown and took a trip to the farmer's market. our yield from the market: sweet rolls, peppers, a square of naan.

back home, we snipped and pasted fairy wings for the fall party at church, played a game of twins memory (where L creamed everyone) and kicked back with pizza and a movie, living-room-picnic style.



but back to the twins memory game for a second. i love the pieces, they're wood blocks printed in germany, but the game itself makes me crazy. for one thing, they're fraternal twins, boy-girl duos, and while most of the matches are obvious, with a few i can't tell who belongs together. so the whole time L is saying, ooh! i know that one! and i'm all, how on earth can i find this guy's match when i don't even know who he goes with?



so this is L, with her tower of matches twice the size of everyone else's. for the record: i did come in second. it was hard, people.







dear L,

at eight, you are a heap of personality. you're an expert talker, you love to sing, you have a robust repertoire of corny aunt kristin jokes. you've a flair for the dramatic and you sweep about the house belting out operas in full costume. you adore reading. crafts. baking and silly poems and painting rocks and making things.

you're the lone girl in a sea of brothers, and though no one ever bends to your mothering attempts, you remain happily undaunted. you're often quick to share, you love to help, and i see sprigs of kindness and courage pushing through. i'm praying you'll be so in love with Jesus you can't even see straight, and that this love will spill out big on the people around you.

you're SO much fun and i'm glad for the years i have you close.

also, you cannot date till you are thirty. or married. or BOTH, both is better.

i love you from here to ever,
mom

sneakery peekery.

so pretty much i am winding down my photo sessions, just finishing up those few i had promised folks way back. i'm sure i'll still be snapping like a (snapping) turtle in africa, but this fall is the end of an era and that's a wee bit sad.

i've gotten to photograph SO MANY gorgeous people. it's unfair, really. :)

saturday was quite likely my last senior session, and my but we had some rolicking times. hannah has been dear to my heart since practically 1962, and i'm not going to do her justice here, but she's got brains and talent and humor and compassion and i'd really like to hang out with her for the rest of my life.




i'm about halfway through editing her photos, but i know how hard it is to wait to see SOMEthing, anything really, so i promised her a sneak peek from the first half of the session.

while we were shooting we had this mindlink going on, which was super efficient, because i'd start to suggest something and she'd already be moving to do it. so mostly i said a lot of: why don't you try putting--oh perfect! exactly. it was great.









at the end of the day, we were both frozen and scooting off quick from some scary wedding party people. and i told her she was so perfectly hannah, which, when i think about it, is the best kind of compliment in my book.





i hope you have the bestest senior year, hannah. i'm itching to see how God will continue to weave your life into His beautiful story of redemption. stay humble and brave and hungry for Christ.

you really are so perfectly hannah.

yellow.

my mom grew up on a farm in amish country, her childhood skimming against a backdrop of chickens and sun-fed corn. and then it was bible college and falling for my dad hard enough to transplant the meaning of home to the bluest spread of the pacific.

she likes it there, i think, the slow baked rhythm of island life. but come october, i'll dial her voice soft over 4.5 thousand miles and she'll ask if the leaves are turning.

so mom, these tree shots are for you. (and, okay, a little bit for me.) i had to run out and snap like a mad hatter this past week; autumn is hitting quick and already the ashes out front are slipping clean.








when fall sweeps in, my menu planning is eighty percent soups and slow cooker goodness. i am ofCOURSE making this fellow again, but i'm hoping for some simple, hearty crockpot soup recipes. what makes you happy by the bowlful on a chilled october evening?

and while i'm in the asking mood, fellow seamstresses: what's your go-to longish skirt pattern? i'll need a small supply of those guys when i'm out-and-about in eastern africa, and i do still have that friendly fabric stash just waiting to hop up and become something.





hope your weekends are the best kind, full of flaming trees and bluster.

xo,
n.



ps this weekend is homecoming 'round these here parts, which reeled up all sorts of fantastical memories. behold the helmet-haired glory of 1990:



high school, you are so much funnier in hindsight. :)