62 • Flair

As fall is coming to a close and winter huffs and puffs in the wings, the startling colors of a handful of trees have really caught my attention. As I look down the street, all the trees are doing what they've got to do -- change color and shed leaves. But some of the trees do it with flair. At the end of the day (er, season), all the leaves end up in the same pile, but gosh what a treat to witness such vivacity. That tree is on fire. It is belting out its last aria with every ounce of strength it's got. Not everyone is "good" at flair, and I don't know, could every tree be so amazing? Would it be amazing if every tree looked like that before it dropped its leaves? I actually think it would. 

61 • Dark days

Some people I love very much have gotten some very sad news recently. I dug into my archives to find this photo of the fog rolling in near San Francisco. I remember clearly how astounding it was that a perfectly beautiful day could suddenly be overtaken by this monstrous cloud that settled on the earth. Tiny water droplets, so insignificant by themselves, conspired together to hide the blue sky, overshadow the Sun, obscure the very road before us. I pray my dear ones trust that the fog is not limitless, that there is a time and a place not engulfed in its darkness. That they remain certain of the Son, whose light may be now dimmed from view, but is not itself dimmed in any way. Whose light, in the end, will dissipate the fog, will burn it from its weak existence, and will shine on them warmly again. See this picture. Know it is a temporary darkness.

60 • Daytime playtime

Ten minutes on the floor with little lamb is just about enough to get me through the rest of my day. All he needs are some smiles to mirror and some laughs to echo -- a simple, enviable life. We rolled and reached and cut our first tooth to celebrate his half-birthday today. Whenever I am feeling like a failure of a college-educated-employed-person-turned-mediocre-maid-at-home, I steer myself to the rug with little lamb as an easy reminder of why I'm here. Drinking him in is that spoon full of sugar for the medicine of responsibility, and I am grateful for it, for sure.

59 • Hilarious

Uncle Bill has this wonderful way of saying the word "hilarious." It rolls out of his mouth like a chuckle, bouncing jovially to your ears. His laughter is spring-loaded, delightful even – in a manly sort of way of course. As good-natured and generally jolly as Uncle Bill his, it isn't often we see him quite like this. We were glad he was taking this milestone birthday so well.

This was the card that inspired the gut-busting episode pictured above:

58 • Fall pond

Fall Pond

I loved this drippy image from today's outing to the park nearby. It's as if the last remnants of this year's green foliage are melting away.  These bittersweet warm-in-the-sun crisp days are already leaving me almost as glad to come into the warmth as I was to be outside. I know I'll be enjoying the holidays once we're in the midst of them, but I can't help but look forward to bare-armed days outdoors on the other side of winter. For now, though, I'll drink in what is still warm: the amazing palate of color, aflame and scattering downward with every gust of autumn air.

* You may not know: you can click on the photograph to see a larger version. If you'd like to then go back to the blog, click on the small "x" in the upper right corner. 

57 • Big sister

Big sister

Four is the perfect age to be a big sister, I think. Perfectly capable of holding the baby in your lap, getting mommy a clean diaper, and helping with other chores around the house. But the most importantly, a four year old girl loves a little one. She adores his innocence. She understand his helplessness and wants to protect him. She is too young to be responsible for him, so she can flit in and out of his presence as she wishes, soaking in just enough baby sweetness to satisfy her.