This Is Just To Say

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

by William Carlos Williams

This was an actually note that William wrote to his wife. William had fun ideas about poetry. He thought that no superfluous word should be included and that it should be American. I like those ideas but I am partial to good rhyme.
I loved what Kelly said about this poem while laughing "It is an apology, but not really."

Gleaning Potatoes

We made a quick dash out to Corey and Eileen's to pick up some Po-ta-toes, boil 'em, mash 'em, stick 'em in a stew. It gave the children a chance to get dirty and ride on the tail-gate. Margaret had a good time trying to eat them. Last year she mostly cried. Next year I anticipate her picking with the best of them. The only unfortunate thing was that I lost my lens cap. Both Jamie and I came back with more then we needed and a bucket of plums.   

Planting Bulbs

This is my first time and I am already so excited to see them pop out.
This is a link to my other wagon photos.

 She has a sweet little face and is becoming more capable every day.

 It reminds me of the outer space.

Many of John's socks are starting to look like this. It reminds me of Clara's pajamas in this post.

The Childrens Hour

Between the dark and the daylight,
When the night is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the day's occupations,
That is known as the Children's Hour.

I hear in the chamber above me
The patter of little feet,
The sound of a door that is opened,
And voices soft and sweet.

From my study I see in the lamplight,
Descending the broad hall stair,
Grave Alice, and laughing Allegra,
And Edith with golden hair.

A whisper, and then a silence:
Yet I know by their merry eyes
They are plotting and planning together
To take me by surprise.

A sudden rush from the stairway,
A sudden raid from the hall!
By three doors left unguarded
They enter my castle wall!

They climb up into my turret
O'er the arms and back of my chair;
If I try to escape, they surround me;
They seem to be everywhere.

They almost devour me with kisses,
Their arms about me entwine,
Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen
In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine!

Do you think, o blue-eyed banditi,
Because you have scaled the wall,
Such an old mustache as I am
Is not a match for you all!

I have you fast in my fortress,
And will not let you depart,
But put you down into the dungeon
In the round-tower of my heart.

And there will I keep you forever,
Yes, forever and a day,
Till the walls shall crumble to ruin,
And moulder in dust away!

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

This is our "children's hour." We write in journals, read scriptures, read books, say prayers, and lastly sing songs. It is an event, but I love every bit of it.
Once when we were at the mall, and the children were playing in the play area, an elderly man stopped, looked at us and told me, "This is the best time of your life and you don't know it." At church last Sunday I overheard another elderly gentleman say to a mother with small children, "Make the most of the time you have."  These men are dear, and their message IS a recurring theme in my mind.  I am honestly enjoying myself as a mother and I feel like this is the happiest time of my life. I think of that often and I do believe I have an small idea of how truly good it is.  My children go to sleep in their own beds. We can cuddle and kiss them to bits. They want to please us and they do. They love Kelly and me. And Oh! How we love them! I will keep them in my fortress of pixels, paper and love.

September

The golden-rod is yellow;

The corn is turning brown;

The trees in apple orchards

With fruit are bending down.

 

The gentian's bluest fringes

Are curling in the sun;

In dusty pods the milkweed

Its hidden silk has spun.

 

The sedges flaunt their harvest,

In every meadow nook;

And asters by the brook-side

Make asters in the brook.

 

From dewy lanes at morning

The grapes' sweet odors rise;

At noon the roads all flutter

With yellow butterflies.

 

By all these lovely tokens

September days are here,

With summer's best of weather,

And autumn's best of cheer.

 By Helen Hunt Jackson

Produce from our garden. Exclude the pears, they were bought at the store. And the pepper, it was from my parents garden.

What John has been up to!

Stunt Man doing Pretty Salma.
Using my make-up applicators to build roller coasters and rockets
Making snakes with model dough.

Lemon Bar and Peach Flip

I asked John to clear the dishes.

Instruments and Music

Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy.

O, Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love; For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

-Saint Francis

There's music in a hammer,
There's music in  a nail,
There's music in a pussy cat,
When you step upon her tail.

-Anonymous

In our house we get a little bit of both, if you get my meaning.

Wood Studies

Underwater City

Back in the 1920's the city of American Falls was moved to make way for the American Falls reservoir. Today the reservoir is close to 4% capacity so much what is left of the former city is exposed. We all got a thrill out of walking on sidewalks have been covered by water and seeing tree stumps lined up.  The mud was gooey and fun for the children to walk on and jump in. At times I felt like I was maybe exploring a crumbling Scottish castle or the Roman forum. But I have never been to either of those places so I could be way off base. But, it was awesome!  The Mayos are so fun to be with. Thanks for the great outing.

Decor

I put some décor up in Margaret's room. The pin wheel mobile Trish helped me make, photos I took and a painting done by Jesse Wilcox Smith of a little girl washing doll cloths. We call her Nicole. The room looks more comfortable and inviting for my sleepy darling. 

BW Ferns

Deleta

It was her first time skating and she was on the same level as all the other cute little first graders.
I remember roller skating all the time on our drive way. Heather and I would pretend we were Tonya Harding and Nancy Karrigan. That stopped when the metal baton incident happened. Remember that?!