1 Comment

goodbye summer 2015

Last night we waved goodbye to our summer sun. Our little family was at Lake Salem in Derby, VT. 

Earlier we had made an offering to the lake gods, which included clam shells, tiny daisies, itty bity snails, and pink and green flowers. We swam and splashed around and ate a delicious meal cooked on the grill. 

The air started to have a slight chill to it; and as the children ran around giggling, soaking up the quick seconds of gold remaining, the sun set and the warmth left us and the sky turned gray and the water a darker blue.

And then, we said hello to Autumn and a beautiful evening.

“The world is round and the place which may seem like the end, may also be the beginning.” – Ivy Baker Priest 



momma’s birthday

today (July 2nd) was my birthday!

it was nothing special, and everything special. 

my children were running circles around me. bickering. loving. giggling. all the good stuff. 

had breakfast with my mom, Cream of Wheat was what I requested; an odd favorite. coffee was delicious. 

ice cream for the kids at lunch. 

surprise massage (gifted to me by my husband) in the afternoon!

spontaneous dinner with friends in the evening. 


all simple yet amazing. 

I just want to remember. ✨💚🎈



summer memories 

ah, bliss. 

      summer is really shaping up to be quite extraordinary, so far! 

we seem to be super busy, nearly everyday. I’m not one to care for busy days, particularly…but I’m trying to just roll with it. 

swimming, exploring, piano lessons, birthday parties, bridal showers, barbecues, long car rides to cool places, sleeping in, hot nights, gardening: SUMMER!

my nephew, Forrest, was here (with my brother and his momma) over Father’s Day weekend. that was such a joy. he is edible. and it’s always good to reconnect with my brother and Mary. it feels like a restart. 

we built a dam in my parents brook, which is something my family always does together. a chance to talk, cool off, build something neat; and all the while know that the dam will be destroyed with the next storm. impermanence and beauty right before our eyes. 

  Matt ended up getting free Red Sox tickets from his boss. we were NOT going to take the kids, but we couldn’t find a babysitter…so we just said, “let’s do it!” the best decision ever. the kids were SO happy and we were able to see Boston thru their eyes. happy little eyes. the seats were basically ON the field, third base line, by the Orioles dugout. so very blessed. 
      it was 90 degrees and like 100% humidity and there was a tornado warning in effect! but nothing happened (because we brought an umbrella) ! 😊

and because we were living it up and having so much fun, we let the kids go crazy at the end of the night in a pressurized water park. it was magical. ✨

anyway, just a few pieces of our life to record here.  

until the next adventure-thanks for reading. X


made from the stars

he asked me why you had to die, and all i knew what to say was this:
we each have magic inside us, and that we are made from wishes upon stars, and, in fact, from stars. and when we die, that very magic gets sent back out into the universe…and with any luck, we may feel his magic once again.
i’m not sure this answer helped our 6 year old son. he’s frustrated at the sentiment, ‘death is a part of life’, and to be honest, so am i. this loss feels hard and cold and unfair. the day he died it was one of the coldest of this winter, and that seems fitting.

we will genuinely miss you, John. you loved us (and we felt it), you loved the smell of babies, and cried when you first saw our daughter. a stay-at-home-dad, you loved the Red Sox, the woods in the forest, the Grateful Dead, and not having to pretend.
the last time you cooked for us it was steak and tuna because you knew the kids would eat it. always aware, always kind. when we’d visit, you’d always greet us at our car and always walked us back to it when we left.
you were a bit sarcastic, you loved reading, kept a good fire going, and you could tell a great story.
this past summer you completed building a craft room for your wife that was just gorgeous. and to top it off, you found a heart shaped stump in the woods, brought it home, polished it, and set it on her new felting table. looking back, it’s almost like you knew. that she’d need this place. this room to reflect, to cry, to love, to scream.

finally, when i went to visit you in the hospital and you were lying there, yellow with jaundice and older looking, yet curled like a baby, we talked. i wasn’t sure i should be there, (i’d never seen a cancer patient in that kind of shape) but you told me you wanted me to stay. looking back, i was so confident and ‘peppy’. as i quietly watched the reiki performed on your swollen feet, you closed your eyes and told me you couldn’t wait to swim in the cool water with your newly shaven head, but some things aren’t meant to be…
you leave behind two gorgeous, independent and confident boys: ten and thirteen, and your magical wife.
we will carry you in our hearts. always.




We entered the woods at dusk.

Our six year old son was hiking along side us, our two year old daughter was in the backpack.

Tomorrow is the opening day of hunting season here in Vermont, therefore we were all wearing our brightest colors for safety and our warmest layers for comfort.

We made it to the first incline and noticed that our daughter had promptly fallen asleep . During this excursion she would never rouse.

Pushing on, we passed birch trees, naked maples and massive oaks. The ground was dry yet covered completely with crunchy, slippery leaves. The air was cold. The sky spitting snow. We had just about reached our destination when my mother stopped us all and said, “Listen, carefully.” We waited, eyes and ears peeled, and then we heard it: an owl call. This is the way we communicate in the forest with our uncle.

We’d made it to hunting camp.


It was dark, we’d already turned on our headlamps.

My mother had been to the makeshift camp many times, but for our tiny family of four, it was a first.

The camp itself is built into the mountain. Two sides of the interior are stone that was placed there ever so perfectly by glacier movement, millions of years ago. There is a green tarp draped over the top and secured by wood planks and some plywood which was hauled up the mountain.  There were camp lights burning inside which we could tell from the light reflecting out through a tiny window. That light turned a magic green because of the tarp, and the light drew me in.

As I walked over to the slightly ajar door I remember thinking, “This is the most humble home I have ever entered”. And I could not wait to see what was inside.


A wood fire was burning; a delightful smell.

My uncle was standing there and greeted me with a bear hug.

His smile was the reward for our chilly night hike with children in tow.

I quickly glanced around the room and noticed there was a coffee peculator, a small pile of wood under a table with a propane grill on top for camp feasts, two beds in bunk style and a bucket seat. There was also silverware, plates, mugs, and pots and pans laying flat on another simple shelf. A guitar was in the corner.

The floor was rock and dirt.

Nothing more was needed, nothing less.


We proceeded to take our sleeping daughter out of the backpack and lay her down on the lower bunk bed. Our son was amazed to be there, having just hiked in the dark to this magic spot on the mountain. Two other men were there that have been long time family friends, and boy were they impressed that we made it; our crew must have been a sight to see.

Between the hot cocoa and laughs we all shared and the songs we sang while the guitar strummed, a couple hours had gone by in a heartbeat.

My husband and I agreed it was time to head back down the mountain as the temperature was dropping and the snow still falling. And the children needed their beds.

We made it down, safe and sound. The children were half asleep and buckled in, ready to go home. The outline of the surrounding mountains and distant house lights, coupled with the fresh air of November and the time spent with family and friends made me truly appreciate my life for what it is.


Song lyrics popped into my head:

“Have you ever wandered lonely through the woods?

And everything there feels just as it should?

You’re part of the life there, you’re part of something good.

If you’ve ever wandered lonely through the woods.’

(Phillip John Hanseroth)


And I shall sleep soundly tonight.