D, with bow and arrow, and quiver G and he designed together
Trying out my new (to me) spinning wheel(!), found second hand for a remarkably good deal...
...and my own yarn(!) spun in the quiet of the evening house in front of the fire (the only requirement is that I keep it "wrapped" until Christmas...thankfully the wrapping was minimal.).
It was a long, often trying week, heading into the thick of a month that is more often than not inordinately stressful, due to my wildly over-ambitious plans and expectations of myself, and all the goodness there is to be enjoyed here and there. Each year I am determined that it will be different. Maybe this will be the year.
Yesterday, after some quiet while the boys worked on some sort of secret project at Grandma's, after receiving (and neglecting dinner to play with) my spinning wheel, and after a good and surprisingly peaceful dinner at a cleared-off table in the dim light with our first Advent candle burning in the center... I had a flicker of hope that maybe it can be different this year.
Today was full and busy, but I had the thought, that maybe if I could remember to notice the little things each day, maybe that would help to slow down the coming and present busyness, at least in perception, and be enough to carry a bit of that dim, candle-lit, togetherness feeling through the full calendar and fuller days.
I don't know. And knowing myself, I will likely forget many days between now and Christmas. But hey, if nothing else, one day is better than none.
Today it was...
the wonderful warm weight of the blankets when I looked at the clock and remembered it was Saturday and I did not have to get up just then
the way the sun blurred through the frosty grey sky above the tree tops, glowing over the golden grasses and snow
listening to G and D engaged in creating together, with their whole beings
the way the corn field stubble stuck out in designs of black slashes above and against the white snow as we drove
the way the soon to be setting sun cut through the clouds to shine a spotlight on the bank of the creek we drove over
the way the boys played with their friend so happily as we helped them pack their final boxes for their move down state, and how she and I talked as we worked
the way all fights and picking on each other ended the moment we suggested reading further in our current bedtime book (The Wizard of Oz)
the way it is so wonderfully addictive, and wonderfully some feeling that I just can't put a word to, to sit at the wheel, feel the fiber slipping and pulling through my fingers and see the yarn appearing on the bobbin
the way I am so thankful for this quiet house this evening, and the fire burning away in the wood stove at my side.