Saturday, April 2, 2016

The lull

I spent a good part of the break pouring over books and researching curriculum for next year. We are pretty set, all in all, but I feel binge tendencies to want to do it all. It's hard for me to pare down literature. Trying to find ways to sneak it in for "fun."

At the library, I picked up some field guides for animal tracks and butterflies. While I was there, I passed by The Black Stallion movie. I grabbed it and put it in our bag. Later in the week, the girls and I cuddled up on the couch in the basement and watched it, because I had doubts it would be a book we'd get around to reading. The movie was a delight, truly.

The other night, Erin leaned against me as I read another chapter out of Anne of Green Gables. Lanie joined us.

"I like how you read it, Mom," she said. "When I read out loud, I just read the words. But they really come alive when you read them."

And then later, she told me how she read the book in fourth grade, but only parts because it seemed boring, but now she wants to read it again because I made it sound good.

I wondered to myself, is this what I've been missing? Looking forward to a home focus.

Celebrated with Denise. Did photos with Marshall's Mom. Also did some product photography. I slept in more often than I got up early. Had homemade waffles. Chocolate. Easter egg hunts. Watched the grass green up, and the cherry tree preparing to blossom. Winter lasts a bit longer in the woods.

It's been a week of sweet lull. Busy enough, yes. But there has been a wonderful welcome of time stretched out, seeing people I love. Time together, my love language.

Ann came by and visited yesterday, and it was so nice to catch up with her. I'm still so grateful that during her trip to Vermont she thought of us at the King Arthur Flour Co and brought us back gluten-free coconut flour. Wow, wow.

Today, celebrating seventeen years married to Shane. I knew six months into dating him that he was the one. And as each year passes, I love him more and more. Really and truly.

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