Wednesday, June 18, 2014

And they danced

The girls finished nine months of six-day-a-week dance classes with this thing called a recital.
I cried through nearly the entire thing.
From the second row the click of the Nikon shutter
punctuated their steps.

Madeleine was in ten different pieces.
Sarah and Maddy both had their first pointe performance.
Hip hop was a surprise favorite.
Tap was a crowd pleaser.
I love this stuff.
And I try not to count the recitals we have left
stretching before us in beauty.

(When classically trained ballet dancers
go hip hop it will surprise you.)

 Grace was a bookish ballerina.
Considering carefully a year of quiet work.
Laura was a ballet diamond in the cutest deck of cards.
And a teddy bear tap dancer.
Grace also got jazzy.
We have a vocal recital before summer starts in earnest.
Then a few dance intensives and a couple of theatre camps
and a lot of backyard camping.
A wedding.
Swimming in the creek.
Playing with the ponies.

Thursday, June 5, 2014

It's a coffee table book

Today I felt that need to look for beauty -- does that happen to you? --
and where better to turn than my photo files of this past month? 
(Well. I could have gone outside, but weeds are lurking there, creeping ever closer to farm domination.)
And one of my other favorite diversions is to drive over that-there bridge on my way to town and back.
Alas it is under construction until September.

So photo journal it is.
 The barnyard is stomped-down packed mud, the hay field is sodden but gloriously tall and green. 
The pond is finally fenced off from horse and/or sheep invasion and just a little prettier already.
Mr. Suite planted some trees.
The skunk cabbage and cattails (such lovely names!) grow unmolested.
A grey heron rests there between fishing trips to the river. 
A pair of Mallard ducks made a nest immediately after the fence went up but are gone now.
I hope they come back.
Frogs and toads of the green and noisy variety make music we can hear all the way to the house.
The flowerbeds and garden beds are overrun with chickweed, crabgrass and clover. 
I'm going with it on the theory that nature knows what to do with itself.
We pick lettuce and peas from the beds and a little grass sneaks its way in the salad.
Most is edible.
 Fiddler on the Roof, a sold-out run. 
Maddy had "Fiddler prom" backstage with friends
while other high school friends rode in a limousine
to dance that was decidedly not Russian nor Jewish.
Sarah sang Matchmaker.
And Anatevka was weepingly beautiful.
 Pinocchio, a sold-out run.
Grace was the prettiest puppet I have ever seen. Or sewn.
Sarah wore blue hair and a beautiful gown to convince Pinocchio
becoming a real boy takes bravery and honesty.
 On top of the hill, a neighbor's barn less used than ours, with a view to Blue Mountain.
I would let you think I hiked up there but it is very, very high. So I drove.
 Salvador got his hair cut after Easter.
The barber was smoking a cigarette so we went to the salon.
I explained the haircut preferences:
scissor cut, whitewall around the ears, side part, 
you know, LEAVE THE CURLS.
And the stylist pulled out her clippers and buzzed his hair right off faster than I could gasp.
"This is better," she declared.
 The forest wants to take over my back yard. See those weeds of which I speak?
When we bought this place I loved the back yard's "shabby" fence
and asked Mr. Suite to leave it a while.
Its time has probably come.
The creek flows through the trees back there
and it is good to have a little barrier
so we don't worry about Charlie swimming away.

 Fencing off the pond was a family affair.
Mr. Suite has been engineering a lot of hours.
The development and building trade is picking back up.
We are catching up.
 Madeleine was given a lovely vintage dotted swiss dress.
Great-grandma remarked "it looks just like a dress from the 1940s."
It is!
The lawnmower was broken. 
Too many trips to the river pulling inner tubes and children in its trailer perhaps.
We replaced it but not before the horses had lawn duty.
 What can a girl say about columbines? They self sow and are a favorite.

 I only took a dozen pictures at Easter and each one is a testament to ...
something about the difficulty of herding cats.
And every time I see one of these posed sillinesses
I hear the Beatles singing "All Together Now"
and that makes me giggle.
If I were not the parent of teens now I'd say
I'm just grateful no one is picking his or her nose.

You can, however, see a bit of Salvador's hair pre-buzz-cut.
So there's that.

I feel better after that chatty update. 
Is it just me or do you too sometimes need to
focus on your beauty to press a reset button on gratitude?

I'm also participating in #100happydays. Don't let the hashtag stop you.
I don't understand hashtags either!
But I do understand happy.

Blessings from farmsuite.
I hope you are surrounded and lifted up by joy.