Let’s not talk about all the plans I had for this summer. Let’s not mention the weekly beach trips that haven’t happened, the perennial beds that haven’t been mulched, all those fun programs at the library that we haven’t attended. And let’s just ignore those hopes and plans I still have for the remaining summer season, which may or may not play out as I want.
Let’s just focus on this: the summer that is.
These girls. I can hardly contain my love for these growing-up girls. I can’t give them the attention they deserve right now (their brother demands more than his fair share). But I hope they know that they are loved beyond measure.
We almost had a handful of raspberries this year (here’s the photographic evidence), but something else ate them before we got a chance.
It’s been a rainy summer, and for a while we had a big pile of dirt just hanging out in our yard, waiting to fill the raised beds and be made into a garden. In the interim it was a wonderful, dirty, muddy place for all the neighborhood kids to play. Mud has played a big part in this summer.
This girl. She’s a bookworm.
Look at all that hair! Will has been losing his hair; he temporarily sported a faux hawk but now is mostly bald. Bea loves to snuggle him.
I’ve been having some mental anguish about all the stuff that’s not getting done. It has been an exercise in letting go, in admitting that I can’t control everything: each time I walk through the gardens while holding the baby, staring at all those weeds that I can’t pull or the eggplant I’ll have to come out and pick later because I can’t reach it now, or seeing how badly the floors need sweeping when I’m holding a sleeping baby and feeling so powerless to do anything (because as soon as I set that baby down he will wake up and I won’t be able to sweep the floor anyway).
Then in scrolling through the archives of this blog looking for baby pictures of the girls, I came across this post and remembered: Oh yeah, I’ve been through this before. It’ll change soon enough.
And I’m often reminded of a conversation I had with our elderly neighbor at the last home we lived in. She had a flower garden that, while still boasting a magnificent array of blooms, was also fairly choked with weeds. And she told me how frustrated she felt that she was no longer able to do the work that garden required; she was dependent on someone else who didn’t do the job quite as well as she would have liked. At that time Bea was an infant, and I remember thinking that I knew just how she felt, to be dependent on others when you can’t do the jobs you want to do — but in my case it wasn’t that I was physically incapable of doing the work, just that my time was taken up by this tiny person who depended on me for everything.
We will have tomatoes!!
In the early days of summer, the girls spent a lot of time preparing “salads” from the garden — lettuce, spinach, mint, dill, and other herbs, carefully arranged on a frisbee plate or bicycle helmet bowl.
Hula hooping. It’s Adeline’s thing. We even made our own (though they were possibly the most expensive hula hoops in existence, the supplies having come from our friendly local [read: no competitors in town to keep prices down] hardware store).Yup. Harry Potter.
We’re using the square foot gardening method this year for everything but tomatoes.
We finally found a piano! Not just a piano, but also a piano bench filled with vintage lesson books, just the right level for Adeline. She’s been over the moon about it.
We’ve got a lot of space in our backyard, but it wasn’t a happy place. Not a place we liked to spend time in. We’re slowly transforming it, with a patio expansion, a clothesline, a lattice fence for the hops to grow on (and perhaps some clematis as well). It’s working: we spend more time out there already.