What I’m listening to 6/22

Because I know you so care.  But, hey, it’s a post, right?

The Ends

Blitzen Trapper

Hold Steady

Definitely in the “tender little love songs” genre.  Or not.

another kind of rain

OK… and then there is the other kind of rain, the kind that just sticks around, being quiet and lasting forever long, making me feel kind of mopey. It’s a great kind of rain for when you’re at home by yourself and you can make a cup of tea and curl up on the sofa with a good book, and perhaps a cookie or two. Or when you have a sleepy babe and you get to wrap yourself around his or her warm little body and nap. It’s not-so-great when you have one such babe and then a preschooler who wants desperately to do anything but nap and is literally bouncing on the bed and spinning round and round.

Is this the voice of experience? Oh, yes, it is. So, after a long morning of Owen contending with two sleepy kinfolk and one really long, gentle rain, I figured I owed it to him for a little puddle-stomping. So, out we went, with Willow in a high back carry in the Kozy and an umbrella overhead.

The snails were out in full force, and Owen found a good collection to take along for the walk. He eagerly showed them to several neighborhood girls, who were quite good-natured about ooh-ing and ah-ing over them. I was a little worried these particular snails were doomed to live out the remainder of their days in Owen’s bug box, along with the pill bug remains from last week (oops), but no, O found a good spot next to the deepest puddle on the street and set them all free, even the one he dubbed ‘the tiniest ever’, who really was amazingly small.

We ended up at the neighborhood plant store, where O got to feel the water in all the fountains (and Willow only got to wish she could) and then to visit his favorite stone kitty cat. This is something he dearly loves to do. Wherever we go, if there is some inanimate creature, Owen will take a fancy to it and want to carry it all around, caring for it as if it were alive. (Remember the lame Halloween duck??) It’s an endearing quality, and it shows his more empathetic side, which I try to remember when he starts chasing the real cat around at home. Speaking of, we wound our way back home just in time, before crashing blood sugar and dire thirst made the walk unbearable.

This leisurely trek was just what we needed to restore everyone’s good spirits. I’m thankful that’s all it takes, sometimes.

our screened porch

I love our screened porch. It is more of a sneak preview of a screened porch than the bona fide deal. But I love it anyway.

There is something so relaxing and right about sitting in it. Ever since Geoff rigged it up last weekend, we have eaten every single meal out there. Every single one. That should tell you something.

The other day, Owen and Willow and I sat outside, protected by the shelter of the porch and the screens, and watched a big storm roll in. My mom and I used to do the same thing from her porch, only it was the front of her house, not the back, and it was minus the screens. I imagine people having watched storms for eons… from the shelter of caves and other structures. It resonates with my soul, and I love that I can pass this small joy on to my children (I hope).

For the past several years, Owen has been afraid of storms, wanting to be inside, away from the crashes, but for a long while I have deeply wanted him to feel the energy of a good thunderstorm. I knew he would be hooked if he did. And now, I think he does. He sat on my lap, next to Willow, and we just watched and waited, feeling the wind kick up and watching the trees sway.

During the very first storm after Geoff and I moved to this house, I noted that the experience of storms is different here than at my childhood home. Here, because of all the tall trees, we’re really in the middle of it all. At my mom’s, on a high hill, one feels more detached. It’s still a moving experience, but it is definitely different. Different caves, different perspectives.

It is interesting to imagine what Owen and Willow will take from having grown up here in this house… the smells, the light, the swaying trees, and now the porch in a storm.


One night, in the not-too-distant past, Owen roared in his sleep.