New Moon Eve on a Monday

In college, my one friend Kelly in particular and I would go early to secure the spot at the bar in front of the touchscreen game. It was a big black box that usually sat at the corner and for a couple of quarters, you could play a semi long game (depending on skill level) while sipping on a long island or gin and tonic.

Her game of choice was Photo Hunt and mine was Monster Madness. I would try Photo Hunt from time to time and it was fine, but the strategy of Monster Madness was where it was at for me. All that being said, I played my fair share of the former which compared two somewhat identical pictures and you had to find the differences: tapping the screen, circling out of place mis matches and then seeing if you got them all at the end.

I am currently sitting at our dining hall table and looking across the room at the moment….

On the piano are five clear plastic boxes with a name and marvel character on each one. A cajon is where the piano bench would be if we had one and there is a pickle jar lid on the floor to the right of the bottom of the right side of the piano: nearest to the leg that has a decent chunk chipped out of the wood. Next to the piano is a party cart where three board games, a dominos case and a bingo roller are stored at the bottom, bowls and wine bottles stored in the middle and where the coffee and tea kettle sit on top. On top of the piano? Glad you asked… the tea jar, whose lid is off, next to a honey pot that looks like a beehive, in front of the cubby where the Starbucks “Been There” mugs go, a basket of household reference books and cookbooks, a few wooden bowls and serving platters…

Above that… a portrait of the St Louis sky… a photo of a morning coffee mug… mounted silver tray… and hanging basket

To the farthest right… our family plates on top of the antique record player cabinet. And just tucked behind the plates – noticeable yet irrelevant – a whisk; the mothers day gift given to me from Ellen.

What I just described is not only my true front and center – the snap shot of my reality – but it is also the quintessential Photo Hunt photo with so many things that could be different, missing or shifted.

Today? A day to reallocate, sort and organize. Weekend cleaning and set up moved a lot around, indirectly effecting every room of the house to where all rooms are directly effected. Laundry piled in the kitchen, odds and ends for filing and tucking, clean laundry for closets and happy plants. The house is not messy. It is bustling.

The main thing I am thinking about is how to collectively pool all we have – all these wonderful good, nice things we have – to make the best place to work, the best place to sit, the best places to rest, the best places to play, the best places to eat. One of the tricks to big family / small house living is resisting the urge and shaping the expectations to give everybody their own everything. Consolidating and maximizing are big words for me and today is thimble and thumb stitch pulling so that tomorrow (which coincidentally is a new moon) can be focused on threading it all through and pulling it together.

It’s a big week for me creatively and I plan to make the most of it. The kids and the dogs are good. The house is good. The rain is fine and the grey is whatever but life is good. The naps are good. Yoga Nidra is good. The sound of running water is good.

With that, I suppose I do need to shift gears to moving around again. Putting some music on and getting an hour of work into the next go round before school pick up.

My husband is a “fly on the wall” lover of coding who is being used in some leadership roles as tech oversight. I am in the room next to him, a former analyst, and totally in love with my life co worker. <swoon>

Ok. Bye for now. :)

Send wine

realistic expectations @ on a little ledge by my ferns – stl.

oh hey – long time, no talk. or – no write. what’s up?

to those i know in real life, in person: here we go. a life update of intricate sorts.

to those i read and who read me online: a deeper thought, a perspective.

since the last time i recall writing, the seasons have changed and two puppies have joined the mix. my oldest turns 16 on wednesday, the middle blended daughter turns 12 on tuesday – amazon delivered a couple of *i really want to tell you* today and the sun is shining. it has been a wet couple of days but, today? it’s glorious. sunny, cool in shade, warm in patches of daylight.

my heart has been leaping all morning at our dream and our vision. two adult dogs walking on taylor dock in bellingham, when we finally get to a milky chance concert, the next time we buy fresh flowers at pike’s, the sound of seattle… the coffee.. my mountain view.

my greenhouse. my rosebush. my rosemary. the deer. the neighborhood. the inspiring corner kitchen garden and the desire to be family friends with the people with banana trees and tire swings.

birch bay. foggy mornings. (did i say coffee) and the kayaks. enter back the dogs. the moss. the green. the ferns.

which brings me back to where i started (in my title) – by my ferns here in stl.

the ferns are getting there. (the puppies have not been especially helpful in this regard, but we are learning and i am praying my hostas’ safety and well being each day. MAN they like to rumble and wrestle in them leaves!) the greens of the green thanks to the rain are like fairy dust in this midwest spring. pnw vibes all the way and it’s like being plugged into a little electric socket.

on the homefront: it is a switch day which means i wind down my me time and personal growth and match it up to the needs of the collective, the behavior i want to see more of from my daughters and the way the house needs to run for my sanity and everybody’s health and comforts to be somewhat met.

regarding the publishing project: it has hatched and is a duckling sitting in a sweet little egg. designers are working on statement of work. village books and i are in a pending contract. and my list of people to send invitations to this summer is coming up daily along with the right hue of yarrow golden yellow for the stationary. sigh. my creative baby infant child. my first published work. an apple off my apple tree. <pulse>

oh, how much more i could write right now.

ideas for the future. on my love for my children.

my gratitude. my husband.

// a song we wrote. //

what i have learned in the past two days, what i really truly feel deeply now and my active intentions for the next twenty four hours…

for the next week.

the house.

The summer.

It all.

But, realistically? It is all so actively underway that it simply can only be expected that we all just live it out and report in on the big stuff.

Love live and in living color.

Ok. Peppers. Gear change. Till next time…. erin

About Easter

The more I have come to live, the more I have come to realize that in waves of doubt or despair – literally equal in that moment – are hope and celebration.

The church has failed so many people and Easter really is simply undoubtedly a celebration of spring, light after darkness, new life and the mystery of creation… the joy you feel when the green of your hostas or ferns, the yellow of your tulips or lillies straight up usher in the first real day of winter being over.

These are undebatable truths. These can be communally celebrated, witnessed and experienced.

But about Easter.

I am an Easter person. And it’s not because I was raised on lyrics like “veiled in flesh the Godhead see” or “Christ the Lord has RISEN TODAY – ALLELUIA”. Which built an understanding of a savior and my need to be saved.

And though I am suspicious to believe I am Easter person because I have experienced ruach – spirit – pranayama in the humbly low brass tones of // crown him with many crowns – the lamb upon the throne // and how (even in this very moment) I am moved to tears thinking of how love is bigger than me, love requires faith, and so LOVE must be DIVINE. Holy. Recognition worthy. Eyes closed feel it worthy, divine. I know it’s not just that.

No. I think deep in my bones I am an Easter person because I know moments in my life where I have experienced a different, more peaceful or positive, emotion after a terribly anxious, fearful one have been moments where I have sacrificed, let the bad guys have their way while keeping my belief, or where I held the hand of a dying woman to then witness the peace of her dead body; her spirit obviously not there.

Maybe religious Easter coincided with seeing Christ energy in the sun, the green, the grass. Or feeling the open hearts of those experiencing beautify after thunder, darkness and silence. Maybe we should all scale it back out of headlined beliefs and generational religion and feel what we know to be true: the natural cycle of new life coming after death.

I am an Easter person. A finder and lover of the silver lining. A collector of rocks, an exchanger of peace, an encourager of hope.

A lover of green ferns.

A celebrator of the faithfulness of the rising sun and moon.