Lately.

Lately I'm loving gorgeous spring days, playtime with friends, scheming fun surprises for friends, good music, summer planning, and the smell of flowering trees.

River adventures. Leave it to us to show up wearing identical outfits to our best friends. 

Mother's Day Lunch.

Lu supervises the first mow.

Dad. Anchor = Heart.

More friz please!

Sunday Brunch with a view.

My Grandparents' Generation by Faith Shearin

"They are taking so many things with them:
their sewing machines and fine china,

their ability to fold a newspaper
with one hand and swat a fly.

They are taking their rotary telephones,
and fat televisions, and knitting needles,

their cast iron frying pans, and Tupperware.
They are packing away the picnics

and perambulators, the wagons
and church socials. They are wrapped in

lipstick and big band music, dressed
in recipes. Buried with them: bathtubs 

with feet, front porches, dogs without leashes.
These are the people who raised me

and now I am left behind in
a world without paper letters,

a place where the phone 
has grown as eager as a weed.

I am going to miss their attics,
their ordinary coffee, their chicken

fried in lard. I would give anything
to be ten again, up late with them

in that cottage by the river, buying
Marvin Gardens and passing go,

collecting two hundred dollars."

From the Writers Almanac.

Morning in May by Rosalind Brackenbury

"Grass grows in the night
and early the mockingbirds begin
their fleet courtships over puddles,
upon wires, in the new green
of the Spanish limes.

Their white-striped wings flash
as they flirt and dive.
Wind in the chimes pulls music
from the air, the sky's cleared
of its vast complications. 

In the pause before summer,
the wild sprouting of absolutely
everything: hair, nails, the mango's
pale rose pennants, tongues of birds
singing daylong.

Words, even, and sudden embraces,
surprising dreams and things I'd never
imagined, in all these years of living,
one more astonished awakening."

From the Writer's Almanac.