The Apple Tree

259 :: Growing Together

I let my hands travel
over the layered trunk in winter
and stood breathless
under her blooms in spring.

Carried home a handful,
wrote in their company,
returned in the rain.

I cried hot and bedraggled
tears falling to join a carpet of petals,
the blush of pink at my feet.

Flowers lost forever.

Weeks later, she called me back
in an early morning mist.

Overwhelmed in my wet, green boots,
taken with her swelling,
witnessed only by the forest edge,
I asked a lonely question —

273 :: My Apple Tree

she answered in fruit.

310 :: In Her Hands

Candle Wreaths

316 :: Candle Wreaths

It’s so wintery outside today — the girls and I were inspired to go out and gather little bits of red and green to make candle wreaths for the dinner table. I love to watch the enthusiasm they bring to these little projects that we’ve been doing together since they were tiny and it was mostly me doing the crafting. Now, it is mostly them. And I’m just the photographer.

Saying Goodbye

284 :: Nasturtims

We are saying goodbye to the garden for the next two weeks. I love this time of year so much, and it is hard to leave, knowing that these nasturtiums will likely not be standing tall when we return.

They’ve given us their spicy sweet all summer long. Wandering around the garden, I gather one last bouquet and inhale deeply before we adventure off across the Atlantic Ocean.

A New Landscape Every Morning

281 :: This Color

The colors seem especially brilliant this year with all the rain and overcast skies.

279 :: Sisters on the Farm

281 :: Purple Mushrooms

More so than any season, in October I feel I’m like going out into a new landscape every morning.

280 :: Off We Go

278 :: Cosmos at Sunset

282 :: Boy Making Roads

I find that I want to spend as much time as I can outside, even in the rain.

278 :: Finding Asparagus

And
I want to tell you about reaching up
into the apple tree
to pick a wild apple,
when a shower came down from the leaves
and a drop fell on the corner of my right eye
and rolled down my face —
a single tear.

282 :: Apple Tears

Sage

277 :: Sage

Kneeling down
in the sage
after nighttime revelations,
headaches and sick toddlers,
rain for days,
cold and wet and lovely
and always
so many gifts outside
beckoning us to come
and gather.

“You make it too easy”
he said.

Too easy?
Should I reject “too easy,” I ask;
should I stay inside, withholding,
rather than walk into the wet, wild world
calling with rain?

Hiding

275 :: Obscured

One of my children doesn’t love to be photographed right now, and I am trying my best to respect that but sometimes I just can’t help myself.

263 :: Painting Ellen's Hands

262 :: Setting the Table

277 :: Tennis Lesson