The splendor or ordinary days:
In the middle of the night when Kelton gets up to go potty, he walks over and lays his hands on me as he heads back to bed, leans over, presses his cheek up against me and says, "I love you Mama." It's one of my favorite parts of every day.
Watching Madigan initiate and go through multiplication and division problems with his younger brothers is amazing. He is a patient coach and they are not resistant to his training, most of the time.
The sun slowly creeps up turning our Peaks a beautiful rose color in the morning, then gradually brightens into a light that is crisp and clean and makes all of the world feel fresh and new.
The imaginations of these boys is delightful. Here: court is in session.
My Aussie sees me sitting alone on the couch and she climbs up and curls herself into my lap, fitting perfectly like she was made for this.
Lochlan subtly engages each of his brothers, individually, and gets them to chase him throughout the house.
When we drive around town running errands, there's an almost constant banter of voices telling stories, explaining their latest passions, living out make believe interactions, or telling me their hopes and dreams. Sometimes, my brain is tired because my body is weary from all the work, but even in those times I fight to stay engaged because these moments are treasured in my heart.
As we were hiking up my hill at sunset two nights ago, I saw ink graffiti on Madigan's arm. I read it and my heart melted. I know he is edging up to the transition in his brain when manhood will overcome boyhood and the things he treasures will be changed. I also know my respect for him as a human, as a boy, and as a man will only increase. :-)
It was nearly dark when I came home from finishing up a rock wall for a neighbor last night. I was stressed about getting dinner prepared. Declan greeted me at the door and said, "Mom, I have a surprise for you." He had made rice to go with the crock pot roast I had put on that morning, made a huge salad, cleaned up the kitchen and the rest of the house. He said, "I knew you would be tired and I didn't want you to feel like you had more to do when you got home." The kindness of this man...
The precocious red horse in the field outside nickers at me every time I walk out the door, even if she has food in front of her. She loves to talk. She has whole conversations with me. Sometimes, when I pull up in the driveway, she'll whinny a soft whinny. I'll roll down my window and talk to her. Then, she whinnies again, more about her day. I'll respond with more sweet nothings and then she responds with even more about the challenges she faces as a starving horse needing love, attention and a lot more food.
There is a bobcat that keeps dashing across the forest road as I'm headed out to my hill. He's big and beautiful and I love him already.
We are discovering treasures from the burned forest floor; things which survived the blazing inferno with scars only to be washed down to us with the prodigious waters.
When we walk into Matador to grab a coffee, the baristas hand us our favorite beverages with sweet personal notes of encouragement written on the outside of the cups. I do not take this for granted.
There is snow on the highest peaks... in October. We have fall leaves on the trees and snow on the mountaintops. Pretty perfect!
The quiet mornings when all the boys are sleeping in their bunks in the living room, the dogs are scattered about, the teapot is heating water for tea and everything else is still. I sit, ponder, wonder, pray and consider the comings of today and the happenings of yesterday. I hope for what might be and try to prepare for what could be.