There is very little in life with which I may compare the feeling I get listening to the sounds my plants make after I water them on a Saturday morning.
I remember thinking I should write more last New Year’s Day, as I curled up on my couch to write a little post. And then the next day happened, and the next and the next until I knew I had to keep going for all of the days in 2022. I’m glad I did. There is beauty and freedom and growth found in the simple disciplines of life. I’m grateful 2022 happened, and I’m excited for what 2023 will bring. Happy New Year.
When a friend asked for a craft night sleepover with my kids, and Ravn emailed me notification of pending flight expiration, I acted on a whim. I booked a night for Chris & I here, complete with massage appointments and a fancy dinner this evening. We’ll be home in less than 24 hours. Happy Anniversary, Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year to us.
This week is always the weirdest. Foggy, disorienting, cozy, lovely. I can’t decide if I need to travel next year or take the week off from work or repeat this year’s events… I floated through halls and offices, visiting with coworkers, taking extra time with patient care, and then slipped out early most days to hang with my family before the sun set.
It wasn’t until my baby crawled into bed with me this morning that I realized she hasn’t done it in a long, long time. As she fell back asleep, limbs askew and draped over me in the most inconvenient of ways, I vowed to touch my kids more in the coming year — more snuggles, more often. I don’t want them to grow up and away from me in these tween-and-teen years without it.
Tonight, I made a stew with halibut and clams that we caught in our bay. I followed a recipe from a local homesteader/restaurateur’s cookbook. I cooked with a white wine from the winery down the street. I don’t think a day goes by without me saying, I love where we live. Chris usually replies with, Say it again.
Tonight, I made a stew with halibut and clams that we caught in our bay. I followed a recipe from a local homesteader/restaurateur’s cookbook. I cooked with a white wine from the winery down the street. I don’t think a day goes by without me saying, I love where we live. Chris usually replies with, Say it again.