September and October are hands down my favorite months of the year. The harvest in my garden is still going strong. I can start to wear sweaters and knee high boots. The weather is cooler and it doesn’t rain everyday (yet). Something in my primitive brain kicks in and I start cooking and knitting and nesting like a maniac. And guess what? This blog is the thing that suffers. So, sorry, I guess. But I’m having such fun.
In the past few weeks, I’ve finished a sweater for Nora, finished a mitten and started the second for an undisclosed holiday recipient, spun some of the glorious fiber I got at the Oregon Flock and Fiber Festival, painted my inglorious mudroom, and started cooking my way, recipe by recipe, through Mark Bitmann’s Food Matters Cookbook. And I’ve been making about two loaves of zucchini bread a week. And going to yoga. And taking care of baby chicks. And working on freelance articles. And playing Uno and Old Maid with Nora and watching countless dance performances in my living room. And working my full-time day job. Oh, and I read a whole book! (I love reading, but it also gets back-burnered most of the time time, as Nora makes it her personal mission to stop me, “Mommy, I’m closing this book and putting it over here and you may have it in the morning.”)
And the whole time? I’ve been blogging in my head and not getting it down in my favorite digital format: WordPress. Mainly because it’s all been snippets:
Nora releasing my hand in the hardware store and running a quick step ahead to clutch Ben’s hand instead. He was leading the way to fresh popcorn.
The delight of seeing Nora in blue jeans, which she never wears, while she helps Ben change the oil on the car. She charges into the house, “Mommy, I need daddy’s keys, we’re ready to fire it up!”
I’m in the shower and Nora is sitting on the toilet with the seat down, keeping me company. She says, “Mommy, you’ll probably die before me, because when you were a kid, I wasn’t even around yet. Right?”
And I miss reading all of your lovely blogs. The stories of your beautiful lives.
I know from experience this is cyclical. This is where I am right now — and I love it — and soon I’ll be in another place; a very rainy place, with a Macbook on my lap.