on the farm.
for the perfect pumpkin
He is home now,
They are growing up.
These — the first two cousins —
as they pass gracefully through the threshold of childhood . . .
there are seven little ones younger than the two of them,
Oh, just making tea for anyone who is willing to drink squishy over-ripe tomato water.
Juniper hugs Wallace — spontaneously — throughout the day. Watching these two tiny boys hug is a sweet, sweet thing indeed.
He will read the same books over and over again. He is so patient. He is so present. Wallace adores him.
this afternoon at the table —
the table around which so much centers:
family meals, conversations,
stories, questions, projects, colors, abundance . . .
Our couch may be tattered
and our table may be worn,
but we are here living together
with our hearts open
and our eyes filled with wonder.
I was pretty nervous about being on a boat for four hours with Wallace. Tight quarters + a toddler didn’t sound like a good idea to me . . . but after a rough start he loved the adventure, and watching cousins and uncles on the tube made all the baby antics worth the trip.
We took a wrong turn on the way to the blueberry farm. The blueberries were mushy. Mosquitos swarmed us, especially little Wallace with his milky baby blood. I had dressed for an overcast morning not for full sun at noon. Our lunch was soggy and Wallace wet his pants.
But we were with Grandfather. And being with Grandfather makes everything better. Conversations with him during the long car ride there and back again made it all worthwhile.
(I still wish we had come home with a basket of better blueberries. . . )
It’s a yearly tradition to pile the cousins in a sort of sandwich! But it’s getting harder to pile them all up . . . especially on a paddle board!