They Collided

A few weekends ago, I met my mom and dad out by the farm where my dad grew up.  The mission was to take pictures of the sunflowers as they go on for miles and miles this year.  It never gets old seeing my parents in their element.  Never.  

And my favorite pictures are always the ones when people have no clue you are taking them.  The ones where it's just someone doing what they do.

It's been raining pretty much since that weekend and rain during harvest is like a cat in my house, never a good idea and really not a good thing when it actually happens.  

Which makes me even more thankful that on a Saturday night in August, I met my parents and we spent a couple hours looking at the fields against the setting sun.

This morning, it's drizzling again after a steady rain all during the night.  This morning, the prognosis is a bit sad.  Yesterday was a day of finally looking like maybe it was turning to more normal - they combined barley, I mowed the farm yard, my sister and I smooshed in the grain cart tractor cab with Momma Debi, I ate part of my brother's lunch while we waited in a semi (it's amazing to me how we revert back to being ridiculous non-adult siblings in about two minutes), and sister-in-law late night visiting with texts coming in they finished the barley capped it off.  Normal.  It was a normal and full fall day.

Before they left for the field and before I spent the afternoon getting dirt in my eyes, Sister Pister and I packed Dad's lunchbox for the day.  I drizzled olive oil on baby tomatoes before sprinkling with pepper and salt and she made homemade bars and then we wrote a note.  Like the old days.  A have a great day Dad note.  Hopefully he still has that note today.  

Back on that mid-August Saturday evening, as the sun was just about to dip all the way, I heard from Dad, "Right here.  You need to stand right here."  And he was right.

The above picture was from that exact moment in that exact spot he was standing and it is now hanging on my wall as a reminder to me - to take the time when the time is there. 

This sounds corny but sometimes I am corny.  I believe we all have gifts.  It's not vain to notice your gifts or to use them, rather it's why you they were given to you.  My family has the gift of growing in fields and I have the gift of capturing with my camera.  It was more than special to me they collided together while Dad and I stood on the back of the pickup, him commenting on the crop itself and me commenting about the angle of the light shattering through.  

Sunday

Today was a good Sunday. 

I ran four miles early and it felt right for the first time in a long while.  I sat in the sun, let it make me sweat even more, and read from my book club book.  I smelled fresh from the dryer laundry.  I made a loop to visit out in the country with some of my favorite people.  I watched my niece mow the yard.  I wrestle hugged my two nephews because they are way too cool for real hugging, but they will wrestle hug me and laugh the best giggles.  I sat with my sister-in-law on their porch and visited while the little wild one went up and down the slide.  I saw yellow leaves, a sign my favorite is just around the corner.  I found a ladder that will work perfect for a quilt rack I've been envisioning in my brother's shop and then power washed it off in my dad's shop and now it is drying in my garage.  I ate so many I lost count pieces of fresh from the oven Momma Debi bread with spun honey, bread I convinced her to make just for me.  I captured one of the best big old trees against the prettiest sky and ditch grass blowing in the breeze.  I watched my sister get on her two year old, not yet broke, horse for the very first time; I love witnessing brave.  I saw a night light with a princess reflection on the ceiling, followed by shrieks of delight from Emma Jean.  I laughed with Danae and Blake because that's just what you do with Danae and Blake. 

And on the way home, I pulled the car over for this. 

Well actually, I had to drive for a ways to find a spot on the highway I could turn around and then drive more to find a spot I could actually pull off of to get this taken care of as it demanded attention.  Made it just in time. 

Just in time before the sun slipped behind the coulee.  Of all the things to regret, a sunset is never one.  

A good Sunday.  Bring on Monday.    

Easter of This Year

Sometimes things are so right and so good, they don't even need words.  Other than to say this Easter was just what the heart ordered. 

 

Early church service attended with fancy dresses and filled pews and afterward fellowship. 

 

Indulged too much in Momma Debi's homemade hot cross buns and Dad-o's egg bake while the warm morning light streamed in. 

 

Coffee sipped slow and steady long into the day. 

 

Robins spotted and welcomed with open arms as signs of this season's newness. 

 

An orange skirt's pattern - the end to sweaters and other cold weather fashion for good, thank you very much.  

 

Old home movies watched until tears were in our eyes, from laughing at my brother's Honky-tonk Man winning lip-sync kindergarten performance and my four year old rendition of reading Just for You by Mercer Mayor on a floral couch and tears of  a different kind from seeing people like Grandma Gladys making gravy in the kitchen on Thanksgiving of 1988 while Grandpa Norman read the paper in his gray recliner chair.  Both kinds kept rolling when it turned to that same Thanksgiving, only this time at Grandma Audrey's house with Uncle Tige being his usual ridiculous self and then Lacie and Lindsey holding hands and dancing on the carpeted kitchen floor while Matt wore necklaces and a goofy hat as he jigged across the screen.  Oh family is it.  The only thing, through the laughter tears and the different kind of tears too. 

 

Clothes changed and then the day was played away in the sunshine.  Baseball, foot races - a certain kindergarten boy beat the pants off his aunt, riding bikes, and giving horses treats learning the important lesson of keeping your hand.  Being tired from sunshine and wind is the best kind of tired.  I always feel something after a day outside; there's not a certain way to describe it...it's just something. 

 

Easter Sunday was so right and so good. 

 

On a serious note, take video of your loved ones and keep it safe for future eyes.  It's beyond precious to have, to see family and friends in action is much different than a still shot.  It will make your heart happy and your heart hurt all at the same time and it's a keeper of a different kind of memory.     

 



Not Jealous at All

I could get irritated that it is easier for her.  Yes, it could give me some green envy.  That she can just pick up yarn and look at directions and make anything.  Flowers for your hair!  Winter headbands!  Coffee cozies!  Cowls!  Beanie hats!  Chevron blankets!  

While I have to do one project over and over again until I basically memorize it, for written directions are like a maze to this brain of mine.  Here's where I will admit I still can not to this day, hook up a DVD player or a computer or anything which requires that form of thinking.    

But I don't.  I don't get irritated and I'm not green with envy.  Rather I just keep asking her for help instead.  Grateful for the time with my little sister on the morning after Chrismas.  Still wearing our kind of jammies and sitting on opposite ends of the couch chatting about life in between my pleas of, "Okay now what does a double crochet stitch mean again?  Like tell me in loop and pull or loop and pull through two or what?"  

Maybe if we were closer in age, there would be more sister competition and general pissed off-ness at her ability to pick all things up so easily.  But because I'm an entire decade older, I simply feel proud of that nugget.  She is smart.  She is kind.  And she is one mean little crocheter.  

However, I'm not sure if she has surpassed this one yet.  Momma Debi has it going on when it comes to anything involving thread or yarn and stitches.  

I'll always be in last place in this category, but I'm entirely at peace with it.  I really am.  Meager memorizing crocheting is my style.  

It's not like to get some revenge, I'd share a really unattractive picture of us in the morning having a laugh over her random blurt, "The train.  I heard the train in Hartland."  A really unattractive picture of the two of us.  No, I would never do that.