After the week we had, a long afternoon walk at Stone Barns was the perfect antidote on Sunday. We went with friends, and let the kids go where they wanted to go. Followed them down the path to the pigs, over to the compost windrows (had to work that beautiful word in), where they played tag (compost tag? will it be the next rage?), back up to the chicken coops, where they played catch and release, until it seemed a reasonable hour to go home and start eating and drinking.

We called Callie over in the middle of their game, and asked what she would have said if I had told her they were going to spend the afternoon playing on the compost pile. She said she would have worn a different shirt. This made us laugh.

Earlier in the day, Callie had prepared single-handedly (well, she used both of her hands, but she did it alone, I mean to say) ten pounds of brisket for our pot-luck dinner that night. I think this was a turning point for both of us. I need help. The kids can do all sorts of things, given some guidance, time, and encouragement. (In this case, encouragement is not a euphemism for money. Although in the case of cleaning out the basement, perhaps so.)

Sometimes when I have my camera with me, I feel it gets in the way. I don't actually see what is going on around me, I only see what is caught in my lens. This has been a problem in some instances, where I sort of shut myself off, and disappear behind the camera.

Sometimes, the opposite occurs. On a long walk in the woods, for instance, it helps me to stop and focus on things I may have missed. Walking along, I of course notice the sky and the changing trees, but then through the lens I see how they look in relation to the chicken coops. And I think the shadows of the branches behind the walls of the pigsty are even more beautiful than just the branches, themselves.

And in every picture I took of the kids and our friends yesterday, the light seemed to softly glow around them.

That's just the way I'm going to remember the day.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.
tt

Monday Morning

Hi. It's a good morning.

The weekend was so full, in the best of ways: of friends and family, girls and boys, lots of food and presents and nice, long walks (with enough berries poachedgathered for cobbler). My newly-minted teenager has been sleeping past noon. I figure, that's ok for now. For August. School days will come soon enough.

::

I am off tomorrow on a little adventure with my girls. My tech-director is trying to fix me up with the proper equipment to stay in touch while I'm away, but it might be a little quiet around here for a while. As excited as I am to get up to Maine and start taking pictures, and as much as I know I'll want to share about being there, meeting friends, spending time with my family in a different place, all the things we'll do and see: I'm also looking for a little space from the screen and keyboard. I've been finding that it looms larger than its fifteen inches when I'm at home, and longing for a distraction from chores.

I don't think I'll be longing for any distraction from the now, this week.

::

From here on in, we're in the thick of the things that we wait for all year. Our August of being together, somewhere other than home, is literally what I day-dream about all year long. I know- because it is true every year- that it is different up there. That we are different. A little more relaxed, a little slower, simpler. Dare I say (kids?), a little quieter. More connected.

And every year I vow that I will take a little bit of that back home, and make it stick.

I think, that this past year, I did that more than ever. And I'm looking forward to this August, and what comes after, and hoping I keep even more of the state I'm in, when I'm in Maine, when I come back home.

I wish that you all bring a little bit of your vacation-selves home, too, to hold you over until the next time.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.

tt

ps::my tech-guy says that I'll have e-mail up there, for those of you who need to get in touch with me. I might even check it now and then. And I'll be back home for a few days next week. 'Til then!