So glad the sun is out, the rain has stopped and the warmth returned.
Each time I’ve walked downtown in the last two weeks, I’ve seen a goat wandering the fancy landscaping planters of small businesses across from the ferry terminal.
Tourists must wonder if this small town picture opportunity is staged.
The girls in their laughing pleas to stay inside, in pajamas and within their room All day, Mama!
Lots of fairy houses to build, books to nose up to.
Four days in the dreary, damp campsite of a neighboring island has left me loving shower’s warmth, toaster’s buttery convenience and bed’s flannel hug.
Today, eight years ago, celebrating our rehearsal dinner with friends and family in Pray, Montana.
Imagining a life as a mama, a teacher on an island or boat somewhere by sea, by mountains.
Amazed at how it’s all turned out, how it has all come true.
The Paradise Valley at Yellowstone’s west gate would be pretty great right now. Chico Hot Springs, I miss you.
Washing machine’s constant hum, dryer’s rumble tell me I’m knee deep in piles to put away, knee deep in damp camp-y clothes to de-mud and cycle through our see-thru machines.
It’s been eleven years since I’ve been away by myself, without my sweet hubby or my lovely babes. Can’t believe I’m about to share a suite in a glitzy city with mama-pals, a pile of high heels and poolside bikinis.
If patience will fill the pockets of my travels and allow me to return full and ready for the tantrums and trials of life with three small children, then it’s all worth it.
If kisses will blow far enough in the wind to reach my loves when tucked in from day’s adventures, then it’s all worth it.
I’m going to be homesick on my mamas-only trip.
Sometimes nap time and laundry days are a bit like house arrest.
Our handlebars missed us while we were in the woods, so this evening we’ll have to pedal around neighborhood’s side streets.