An Honest View

I want to write about all of it. The growing baby, the brave garden towering on, the dinners I throw myself into, the hum drum pots and pans clanking around listening to baby and dean yakking it up in the next room, and we eat it up all too fast. 

The 7:00 bed time for mr. so and so and the 3 hours I am inside after that when the sun is still beaming away out there.  

The fleeting summer fruit I madly eat like a wild animal, tucking some away for colder months like squire the squirrel.

Eating steel cut oats while I walk down the driveway in the morning, baby and dog in tow, leaving my bowl on a fence post for the walk home, also coffee cups left in trees on our favorite trail only to find and retrieve days later.  Twice running into a woman walking her dog, who can't remember Sawyer's name. "It's 'Journey', right?"  

The crowds of peas weighing heavy on curly vines and in brimming bowls of salad we struggle to finish the last bites; so full. Walking down the wild rose path on our nightly stroll with an honest view of my mom whittling a spoon on the porch. Also, she makes herself fancy scallop dinners for one.

The raspberry popsicles I made and guiltily eat in front of Sawyer while I apologize to him that he's too little for frozen treats just yet. He reaches out instinctively knowing something good when he sees it. 

Hanging laundry on the line ruminating on generations of women everywhere who have done this and who do this, later folding shirts that could stand up and walk around on their own they are so stiff. 

Picking wild sweet pea flowers and keeping close track of the progress of blackberries ripening and when will they be ready. 

Bouncing nursing laying driving walking singing patting baby to sleep multiple times a day, I lose track of time and everything. Digging my heels deep into routine and thriving in it but hoping it doesn't crush adventure and spontaneity also risk and fun. Missing everyone all the time, friends far away, friends around the block, family across the sound.

Loving the library with great passion wanting to give all librarians medals and cakes. Hearing on the radio how important it is to read to babies and giddy up pony to the library we go, totes shoved tight with books. Checking out one called "Pete's a Pizza" about a little boy who is a piece of pizza. 

Making the animals talk even when I'm home alone. Eating my dad's award winning (in my heart) bread and bagels happily. 

Walking around the block with shelling peas spilling out of my pockets feeling a tinge of longing for the farming days but only enough twinge for happy nostalgia.

The days are sometimes mundane and drift thru to weekends that we eat up like handpies. 

Loving bed and any amount of sleep I can muster up. Even 5 minutes of weird thoughts that could have been a foggy dream I don't know but I'll take it. 

Appreciating coffee so much I love that it exists and can't believe the journey it makes from the plant to my cup it's totally insane. 

Drinking up Sawyer's sweetness. His new downy hair he's a little baby duck and I croon and he yammers on and I yawn and he sings his scales. Off-key and perfectly so.