140 :: 365


The Newt Family celebrated their anniversary with a beef dinner.  The baby’s name is Albert.  Mrs. Newt has a blue purse.  Mr. Newt has a blue tie.

Ellen needs to get lost in her world of play every single day.  Play is nourishment for her.  Amabel too; but Ellen especially.  This is one of the biggest reasons why I still struggle to feel good about sending my girls to school.  More school = less play.

I’m constantly meditating on the balance.


139 :: 365


I woke up thinking about lavender.  Our lavender plants need cleaning and cutting back.  Every spring I pull back the grass and thyme that likes to creep close to the lavender, cut off last year’s growth, and remove dead branches.  I love this job.  I get to sit in a carpet of thyme, look out at this view, and smell lavender.  It will take me longer than usual this year, with Wallace sitting in my lap.  All the better, right?

But lest you think I am over-romantisizing my garden chores, we are way behind this year.  Grass is growing everywhere; all our garden beds have more than ever before.  And the weeds seem to be taking over.  Oh, why?  Are we lazy gardeners?  Was it the horse manure we used last summer?

I’m slowly making my way though perennial beds, clearing out debris.  The thyme (our whole yard is thyme) still needs to be raked.  Fruit trees were not pruned this spring.  And we’ve usually planted a early bed of greens and peas by this time, but not yet this year.

I have high hopes for this weekend.  The weather looks promising and Jeffrey will have finished a large work project.  We have nothing on our calendar except the garden.  The garden is a glorious place to be.

137 :: 365


I’m cleaning up the kitchen after dinner when I realize that I haven’t taken any photos yet today.

Need a daily photo?  Just look around.  There’s never a dull moment at our house!


134 :: 365


I am cleaning up a garden bed that I would have cleaned out last fall . . . but Wallace was a newborn then.  I remember resting inside during the final glorious week of autumn — perfect days for putting the gardens to sleep for winter.  The warmth and sunshine were streaming in through the windows, and yet I did not want to be anywhere else but curled up with my tiny, tiny boy.

Today the girls are exploring one of their favorite corners of the garden, where they have a fairy house and a stone path.  Last weekend they each picked out a new succulent at the greenhouse, and now they are deciding where to plant them.  They call me over.  How big will this one grow?  How much space will it need?  Is this a good spot?

Overnight, it seems, the world has turned green.  It feels wonderful to be outside with our hands in the earth, in the midst of spring.

132 :: 365


I’m folding laundry and listening to these words spoken by John O’Donohue —

“I think one of the major mistakes we make with time is that we equate it with space — when in actual fact, time is unshaped.  Expectation creates the future.  The imagination that you bring to the dawn will surprise you and bless you with new things.  And sometimes the actual depth of your approach to a thing will be what coaxes the thing to honor that depth and yield more to you.”   (This is from another On Being interview.)

Recently I had a conversation with a friend in which we talked about expectation and imagination — particularly the role of imagination in relationships.  We talked about how sometimes we rely on our imagination to carry us through as we shape a new space or understanding.  With a child.  With a sibling.  With a friend.  Imagination can be a powerful force for beauty and change.