Heat. Hot sweat. Dripping. Melting cheese on sidewalks. Swimming in blue pool. Rain. Hula hooping. Sugar Creek Arts Festival. Shakespeare Festival. Day trip to Springfield. Orange juice. Kombucha. Hamster. Green Scouts. Concert on the quad. Duncan will be nine in three weeks. He's obsessed with Jazz, trumpets, and drawing. Homeschooling. Nitely will be five before we know it. She loves dressing up and dresses and painting her nails, having her hair done. She's beautiful...and she loves to be beautiful. Hottest summer on record; seriously. Purple hair. Painting. Lyric is two. She is a very curious, sweet, adventurous baby. She has CURLY hair. It generally puffs in the humidity. She's such a nice baby. She loves baby dolls, strollers, and purses. She loves Strawberry Shortcake and Sesame Street. Gardening. Tomatoes. Summer, summer, summer!!!

Your words fall,
like leaves to the ground.
Fluttering never making a sound.

The strangest way you seem sad when you're angry,
your breath becomes apathy,
you'd be better off not breathing at all.

What is worth knowing?
What is worth doing?
What kind of person is worth becoming?

The Losing of You

I….begged for a breath,
I begged u to let….
Me breathe.

I screamed silent screams,
Through desperate dreams,
Please let me be


Midnight summer winds,
Breaking the losing before the win
Manic delirium to find the end.

But here you are around the bend, again

There always seems to be a fall,
When there was only never at all…
The choices we make, when the chance to choose has been taken away.

My eyes wide awake.
Unhinged from the raising the stakes…
The losing of you,
Rings loud and blue.

The aching is true…

The losing of you…

The losing of you.

And they celebrated the anniversary of their independence...

On this, the day we celebrate our independence, while the world is still at war; There was peace here and friends to laugh with, corn to munch, games to play, silliness to have. I am thankful for the freedoms we do have. I am grateful for the opportunities to know better...to be better.

Tiny maple tree. I hold my hand to thee. From the sky you fall. And make your home here with us, all.

This spring as the ground warmed, small-ish trees appeared again. Many made our garden home. Ask anyone, I'd plant a billion trees if I could. We'll have to settle for three. My dear husband planted our tiny trees for us, one for each of our beautiful children. Love trees, all things. ♥

calling

"I've come here to this place to speak truths. Because, we vigil for a great war; a war many of us rarely know we are fighting.
It's the front lines, here, in our souls; our hearts. And it is apparent, every time you look to a face and see a person as your fellow human, your twin warrior...without the notice of color, the query of legality, the question of nationality, or the examination of sexuality. You fight this war with every awkward glance to your exposed nursing breast. It is apparent, with every carefully researched cloth diaper you lovingly diaper your baby with and every orange-like-the-sun yolked farm-raised egg you fry; you are on the front lines.
Here, amidst a seemingly lovely community, we are close enough to freedom to choose our own choices. We are still free enough here to make the difference and initiate the revolution.
Our time is significant. Our days and years are numbered. The freedoms will dissipate one by one.
So, I call on you today, to promote peace, yes, and to be intolerant of hatreds. I call on you to remain protectors of our lovely planet and remain conscience and responsible parents to our future. But more, I call on you to become active. I call on you to organize. I call on you to initiate. You must be RADICAL! The time to live in comfort has passed us, and with that passing we have been left with a crumbling world, a revolting planet, corrupted governments, and a society blinded.