Isaac and Josiah's Turtle Rescue Service . . . how may we help you?

This post is dedicated to my cousin, Nicole.
Last week was the last week of school!!
We had our last chapel on Tuesday, and each of the homeroom teachers got up and talked about their classes in general and about each child in particular, what they see in them and what it was like to have them as students.
It was very impactive for me, so I can only imagine how it was for our little people to hear their teacher's heart on the subject of them.

Mrs. Harrison, Jo's Kindergarten teacher, started out. Josiah is so tender that he cried the whole time she spoke. When she got to him, she said that he is a leader, and the kind of leader that will lead by doing and showing, by coming along-side and doing a thing with those he leads, not just telling what to do. He is willing to get in there and do a thing first.

Isaac's teacher, Mrs. SooHoo, said that he is a very tender young man, and that he is an easy student but is quick to repent when he needs to and is broken if he is in the wrong.
It was so good to hear words of encouragement and life being spoken over our children, and to see their faces beaming and their smiles overtaking their faces when it was their turn to find out what their teachers thought of them.
That day, on the way to grandpa's after school, we saw a turtle in the road who would surely be crushed by tires if he kept creeping across the road at his pace. He was just on the other side of a sharp curve, and there was no way traffic coming on his side of the street would see him.
"Oh no. He's gonna die!" Jo said, peering out the window at the doomed amphibian.
Isaac looked at me with wide eyes.
"Do you want to get him?" I asked.
"Get him? Like out of the road?" Isaac quizzed me.
"Yeah," I said.
We were heading in the other direction.
"How are we gonna do that?" Josiah asked.
"We"ll turn around and get him out of the road." I answered.
"Can we bring him to grandpa's and let him go in the pond?"
"I think we can do that."
And operation Save The Turtle began.
I turned around behind a semi that was heading right for the turtle!
"Oh no!" Isaac said.
"He's just gonna be dead, I know it!" Josiah shrieked.
We slowly rounded the curve and began searching. Up ahead we could see a lump on the road.
"Is he crushed?" I whispered to Isaac.
"I don't know. I can't tell from here." he said solemnly.
We got closer . . . and there he was, head tucked in and in tact.
We pulled into a driveway, I looked both ways and darted out to rescue the turtle. We put him on the floorboard in the back.
"He's scared; he's in there good! All I can see are his nose holes" Isaac commented on our new friends lack of greeting.
"And his long fingernails. He needs to get them cut!!" Josiah pointed out.
He took the short ride with us to grandpa's in the seclusion of his shell, which was a thing of beauty in it's perfectness.
When we got there, we made quick work of finding a nice spot to place him down by the water's edge (after a photo op, that is).
In a few minutes, he popped his head out and swam way into the murky shallows of grandpa's pond.
It was quite a little adventure for us all.

Happy Mother's Day . . . or "There's gold in them there boys!"

Today was Mother's Day.
It is nice to be recognized and lauded for a day and showered with handmade gifts from your children.
It is sweet when they look into your eyes and say, "Happy Mother's Day, mom."
It is precious when they give you a kiss and a hug that lasts just a few moments longer than it did the day before.
The excitement and pride in their eyes when you open a custom made treasure, crafted by their child fingers, made with all the love in their child hearts, just for you -- to show you how much they love you -- is enough to undo you for a long time.
And really, all they would have had to do is just to be as sweet and precious and loving as they already are.
All they have to do is be yours.
And they are.
This year, Josiah made me a frame with a picture of himself, holding Bella (Mrs. Harrison's dog). Adorable!
And Isaac hand-painted a candle holder.
Gorgeous!
I also got a whirlpool foot bath and massager. We all took turns using it tonight. All I can say about it is ahhhhhhh . . .
Awesome gifts! Thanks again, boys.

We had a quiet day today. It was our first Mother's day without grandma. That was pretty hard, and I thought about her a lot today. I miss her. There are so many things about her that I miss, really, but today, the thing I miss the most is her hands.
Often, she would reach out and grab my hand, just to hold it.
Or she would touch my arm or my back as she would pass. Just little touches that let me know she knew I was there.
Her hands were smooth, but knuckle-y.
They were working hands.
They were loving hands.
They were strong.
Happy Mother's Day, gram.


The favorite part of my day was this afternoon, when Daniel was napping peacefully and the boys were playing outside, down by the pond.
At one point they came into the house asking for tin pans.
Curious, I grabbed my camera as Aunt Kathy obliged them and found them the pans they were seeking, and I followed them down by the water.
There they stood, sun at their back, up to their knees in rubber boots and water, digging their pans into the murk.
As they pulled up pan-fulls of silt, they would sift through it, searching.
"What are you panning for?" I asked.
"Gold." Isaac said, matter-of-fact-ly.
I didn't answer him; I was trying to get a shot of the mother goose and her two goslings across the pond.
"It's a silly thing to do, isn't it . . ." Isaac trailed off as he sifted through a fresh batch of silt.
"No. It's not silly. It's not silly at all." I said.
"Who knows what treasure you may find!"
He looked up at me and smiled.
I could have said so much more at that moment.
I could have told him that sometimes treasure is in the most unexpected places; that he should always dig for it, look for it, in everything, and to never give up searching for it, that he would surely find it -- find gold.
I could have.
But I didn't.
I just stood there and let the silence fall between us.
I stood, and watched them.
I was admiring my treasures!

The bookclub diaries

I had a bookclub meeting this evening for the first time since February.
We read Red River by Lalita Tademy, and met to discuss it.
Everyone gathered at Camille's house.
There was a new reader there, Lou, and we welcomed her. She jumped right into the discussion, and I believe she will add a lot to the group.
It was so good to see everyone again. It had been a while.
Karen broke her leg, and was on crutches.
Camille's dad is not doing well these days. My prayers are with her and her family.
Everyone's been busy, but we finally took time to sit together and talk about literature. What could be better?
I really liked this book because it is about, ultimately, the courageous human spirit, the importance of education, and the survival and success of one determined family in the face of overwhelming hate and constant discouragement.
The following excerpt and synopsis, taken from the book's jacket, gives a glimpse into this important novel. I recommend it.

Come closer. This is not a story to go down easy, and the backwash still got hold of us today. The history of a family. The history of a country. From bondage to the joy of freedom…and then back into darkness, so fearsome that don't nobody want to talk about the scary time. 1873. Wasn't no riot like they say. It was a massacre... -From Red River. Hailed as "powerful," "accomplished," and "spellbinding," Lalita Tademy's first novel Cane River was a New York Times bestseller and the 2001 Oprah Book Club Summer Selection. Now with her evocative, luminous style and painstaking research, she takes her family's story even further, back to a little-chronicled, deliberately-forgotten time...and the struggle of three extraordinary generations of African-American men to forge brutal injustice and shattered promise into a limitless future for their children... Red River. For the newly-freed black residents of Colfax, Louisiana, the beginning of Reconstruction promised them the right to vote, own property-and at last control their own lives. Tademy saw a chance to start a school for his children and neighbors. His friend Israel Smith was determined to start a community business and gain economic freedom. But in the space of a day, marauding whites would "take back" Colfax in one of the deadliest cases of racial violence in the South. In the bitter aftermath, Sam and Israel's fight to recover and build their dreams will draw on the best they and their families have to give - and the worst they couldn't have foreseen. Sam's hidden resilience will make him an unexpected leader, even as it puts his conscience and life on the line. Israel finds ironic success - and the bitterest of betrayals. And their greatest challenge will be to pass on to their sons and grandsons a proud heritage never forgotten - and the strength to meet the demands of the past and future in their own unique ways. An unforgettable achievement, a history brought to vibrant life through one of the most memorable families in fiction, Red River is about fathers and sons, husbands and wives-and the hopeful, heartbreaking choices we all must make to claim the legacy that is ours.

My favorite parts of the book?
One is when the men of Colfax are holding the courthouse, standing for what they know is right though their lives are on the line for it, holding out hope that this time Justice will prevail. They are tired and dirty and scared. They are beginning to realize that they have dug their own graves by daring to take action against the white men. One of the weary men asks, "What are we doing here?" and another answers, "We are here so our sons will not have to be."
Yes.
Also, I loved all the passages about how precious books were to this family, and about how they learned to read.
Next up: The Zoo Keeper's Wife by Diane Ackerman
June 14 @ 7 p.m.
Lou's house.
In the future: Bridge of Sighs by Richard Russo

On another note, it is soooo windy right now, I fear we will all lift off and be carried into the sky. I can hear the wind blowing through the trees, but it is not a gentle rustle. It is a violent, rushing sound, like many waters converging from all directions at one time.
That's some wind!

Getting back to normal . . . whatever that is!

It's been raining . . . and raining, and raining.
Yesterday, as we were leaving for school, slogging through the wet grass, Josiah said, "We won't get to go outside today for recess, I can feel it in my gut! I can really feel it" and with that, he tapped his stomach with his clenched fist several times.
Where do they come from?
Daniel will be one in a few weeks. Is that possible? He is climbing stairs like a pro, and even taught himself how to crawl down them backwards. He just has to work on realizing how many stairs there are to go down.

Isaac is ready for school to be out, as are we all, I think. One week to go.
Last week was wacky week, though, so at least it was fun.
Monday was spirit day. The kids had to wear white, black or red shirts to show support to our school.
Tuesday was dress up day. Isaac was a New York Yankee and Josiah was a Knight.

Wednesday was wacky day . . . the wackier the better!
Thursday was pajama day. Everyone walked around in a stupor all day, wanting to take a nap. Good thing we don't wear pjs on a regular basis. Everyone would be tired all the time.

Today was just good old non-uniform day.
Next week is full of fun days and end of the year parties, etc.
Of course, summer break, for us, means settling into the new house, which is still "under construction." Some minor repairs and remodels have turned into some major projects, so we are still waiting it out at mom's and working on the house when we can.
I keep driving to the old house when it is time to "go home." Creature of habit, I guess.
Today was a beautiful day, a respite from the rain and gloominess that can come with it.
The skies were a beautiful blue, the clouds were so white and full and majestic, looming over the landscape, almost touching earth, it seemed. It's like all the rain was a spring cleaning for the sky, and today it gleamed.
Joe worked odd hours today, and the boys and I ate at grandpa's this evening.
The boys took the opportunity to play in the swollen pond. They looked so "Christopher Robin-ish" in their boots.

Gramp is doing well, recovering from the bypass and all the other ordeals.
It is so good to walk into the room where he is sitting in his recliner, to see him there and to hear his voice talking about anything.
A couple of years ago, I wrote the following in a journal, and today, as I passed him in his chair where he was reading the mail, I thought about this passage:

Have you ever been in a moment, and recognized, suddenly, that it is a moment you will remember forever. That it will later, maybe even years later, play back in your mind like a mini movie, and you will see clearly the patchy sunlight falling through the window, across your grandfather, sleeping in his chair. You will smell the early spring. You will see the candle flicker on the dresser. You will again feel the stab of love and sadness at seeing him there, sleeping in the daylight. And you know this, that it will play over again on days when the chair is empty; on days when it will no more hold the napping form of your grandfather.
This happens to me a lot lately. In these moments, time seems to move in slow motion, and there is a certain cognizance that the very moment I am in is becoming an indelible part of who I am. There is a clarity that escapes mere existence in these moments – a sharpness of senses that makes the scene surreal, almost. Dreamlike, except for the fact that I am acutely aware that I am, indeed, awake.
I have come to love these moments, even when they capture unpleasantness, for they make me aware I am alive. I hear the heart beating in my chest. I feel the blood running through my veins, my breathing rings in my ears, and I know, this – this very minute, and every minute like it -- is what it means to be alive.
Spring. Early spring is here, indeed, and we are in it, and I love the way the air smells. Promise. It smells like promise.

Moving on

Well, the house is all packed up, and the cottage we have lived in for the past two years will belong to someone else tomorrow.
I walked from room to room today, making sure we had everything, watching the way the sunlight sprawled on the floor in each room, breathing in the smell of the empty house, remembering.

Lots of things have happened in the short time we have lived there.
Lots of memories.
And leaving it will be one more.
I am sad about it, today. Not forlorn, but there was a pang in my heart as I passed through the rooms, seeing the forms of my children running through the house, hearing their voices calling through the rooms, recalling all the dinners with friends, all the cups of coffee, mourning dad, bringing Daniel home, mourning grandma, all in that house.
It was a good house.
It was our home.
Soon, we will continue the journey of our lives in a new house.
Now, we are in the process of making it a nice house.
When we are finally there, we will make it our home.
In other news . . .
Grandpa is home, and looks quite well! It is good to have him back and recovering.
He gave us a scare.
Our good friend David Grey is visiting, easing our transition from our home to this in-between state at mom's.
We are easing a transition for him too, I'd like to think, as he moves from Omaha, his home of many years, to Oklahoma and then . . .
Through it all, grandpa's illness, the move, and everything in between, there have been friends who have stuck by us, who have saved our skins more than once, and who continue to give of themselves though they must be tired, worn out and frankly, sick of us by now.
To them I say thank you, thank you, thank you, and may God bless your lives richly and lavishly and generously, the way you have blessed us!

Proverbs 18:24 "There is a friend who sticks closer than a brother."

John 15:13 "Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down His life for his friends."

Just because April's over . . .

. . . and National Poetry Month has come and gone, this is no reason to forget about poetry! Make it a part of your life by reading a poem a day with your children. Their life, and yours, will be so much richer for the time spent with each other and with wonderful words!!
Here's one I came across the other day, when our beautiful Spring weather turned bitter cold, and I like it a lot.
Hope you enjoy!
Also, check out my new post following this one. It's been a while, but I'm back!

In cold spring air by Reginald Gibbons In cold spring air the white wisp- visible breath of a blackbird singing— we don’t know to un- wrap these blind- folds we keep thinking we are seeing through

Just one of those seasons

It's been busy. Very busy.

Life is marching on fast and furious. It is at times like this that I most want to stop – catch my breath – understand what it is all about and keep perspective. It is times like this that I am swept into the swirling eddies that are life.
After various complications, Grandpa is back in the hospital, but may be able to come home tomorrow. There are still some factors that are being closely watched, so we will see how that goes. If he gets the "all clear," it will be so good to have him home again.
We have been packing and fixing up the new house, though it will not be done enough to move right into when we close on Monday.
We will stay at mom's while she is staying with grandpa. Hopefully, it will not take too long to move into the house and settle in.
Most days, I feel like I am running so hard and so fast that I almost forget to breathe.
The boys have taken everything in stride.
I keep praying for them; praying that they are made stronger for all the craziness in their little lives. Praying that they see the face of Jesus in my face, Joe's face, no matter how tired or busy or crazy we are.
There are so many things I want to write about, but I need time for that, and time is something I don't have much of right now.
I will be trying to keep it more regular though, so come back soon, and see what's new; it's always something with me!

So, I haven't blogged for a few days.
I have a good reason for this.
I have been spending much of my time at St. John's with grandpa as he recovers from a much unplanned for major surgery.
Gramp has been having some discomfort in his chest and some numbness in his toes and shortness of breath the past several weeks.
A trip on Wednesday to the doctor's office and some tests revealed that he has several major blockages in his heart and blockages in his carotid arteries.
The doctor here in town acted quickly, transferring him to the St. John's CVICU where he was preped for open heart surgery, which he underwent yesterday.
What we were told would be a triple bypass turned into quintuple bypass.
Today, gramp is in pain, no doubt about it; but he is also talking and sitting up and even joking.
No wonder he's my hero.
Tomorrow he may "step down" from an ICU unit to a regular room on the cardiac floor.
If all goes well, he'll be home in 5 to 7 days.
I do not know yet how to express my feelings about the past several days.
I can tell you that at this point, I am thankful that God brought him through the surgery.
I am praying that God would heal his carotid arteries.
When we were in the hospital waiting for grandpa to get through surgery on Thursday, mom pointed out that exactly one and a half years ago to the day, we were in the same waiting room, losing dad.
I'm not sure what else to say about that.
What I can say is God is good.
We cry, we grieve, we feel, we cling to the arms of the Father.
But we know that God is good, that ultimately, we win, no matter what, and that everything will be okay if we trust and believe.
I am worn out emotionally and physically, but I am clinging for dear life to the arms of the Father, and He is holding me fast.
I know He is holding grandpa, too. As hard as it is to imagine, He loves gramp even more than I do, and He is with him when I can not be.
I thank Him for that. I rest in knowing that He is in control.
And again I find myself saying, He gives and takes away, blessed be His name.

A poem for today

CHANGE
~ Raymond Knister

I shall not wonder more, then,
But I shall know.

Leaves change, and birds, flowers,
And after years are still the same.

The sea's breast heaves in sighs to the moon,
But they are moon and sea forever.

As in other times the trees stand tense and lonely,
And spread a hollow moan of other times.

You will be you yourself,
I'll find you more, not else,
For vintage of the woeful years.

The sea breathes, or broods, or loudens,
Is bright or is mist and the end of the world;
And the sea is constant to change.

I shall not wonder more, then,
But I shall know.

Flying by

In case you haven't guessed from the recent lack of posting, it has been quite hectic here the past few days.
We are pretty "birthday-ed" out at this point, though Jo's "kid" party on Saturday was a lot of fun for him and for me.

Mom helped out with the games and decorations, drawing a pretty good rendering of a heifer for a game we called "brand the heifer on the hinder." Kind of like pin the tail.
It was a cowboy themed party, and guests were given cowboy hats, bandannas and sheriff badges when they arrived.
Daniel played the part of the Indian.

They also had to "guess how many cowboys and Indians are in the mug?" when they came in the door.
We started off with some cowboy grub: franks and beans and chips and watermelon.

After lunch, it was time for the games.
Mom rounded the kids up, and first they had a scavenger hunt. We had hidden cowboys, Indians and horses all over the house and the kids broke into two groups (the outlaws and the posse) and went a-hunting.
The team with the most acquisitions at the end won.
There was "snake bite", like hot potato, but with a rubber snake. Whoever was left with it in their hands when the music stopped "got bit" and "died" in a heap on the floor. I think "dying" was more fun than winning in this one, (except for those few boys who just hate to lose).
"There's a snake in my boot" was a game in which the boys had to stand behind a line and toss small toy snakes into a pair of cowboy boots.
And there was a horseshoe toss. The kids got two tries to get the horseshoe into a hat.
Last was the "brand the heifer" game.

It was pretty cold on Saturday, so all the games were indoors, which was not what we were planning on, but it worked well.
After games, Jo opened gifts, and then we had cakes in a jar and root beer floats in cowboy boot shaped mugs.
It was tiring and a lot of work, but so worth it to see Josiah all lit up with excitement. We have never done a big party like that for him, so it was about time.
We also got the key to our new house on Saturday, so Mom, the boys and I took a ride out there in the dusky evening and let ourselves in and looked around without a realtor.
We just sat on the floor and let the kids run all around the empty space.
It is so peaceful there, and whenever I am there, I love it more and more.
Sunday was a beautiful day.
Daniel seems to be taking to the pasta tradition with relish! (Not pasta with relish. That would be gross!)

Had friends over and went to look at the new house with them after dinner.
After that it was home to homework and baths and family time.
Yesterday, we started ripping carpet out and peeling wallpaper off at the new house. My deepest thanks to our good friend Mike, who is there helping, and is walking us through the process of picking out flooring, etc.
There is quite a bit of work to do there, more than we expected, I think, which is usually the case; but when it is done, it will be wonderful, and it will be our space with our touches.
Meanwhile, I still have much packing to do.
Life seems to be flying by, at this point. This is not something I like, particularly when I think that soon, Isaac will be 10, Josiah is 6 and Daniel is just two months shy of his first birthday!!
The other day, I was sort of grumbling as I toured the house, picking up toys, stepping on legos, peeling half chewed Cherrios from the carpet.
"I hate this mess! There are toys everywhere in here!"
Joe was working at the computer and looked up at me.
I sighed.
"I know, I know," I said.
"One day, I will be wishing I was picking up toys . . ."
"You will," he said.
We are probably right.

Playing catch up

I have not been feeling well the past couple of days, and opted for sleep over blogging the past two nights, but now I am ready to play catch up and fill you in on the goings-on.
Wednesday, Josiah turned SIX!!!
The celebrating began in his kindergarten class, where he had a class party.
There was cake and chocolate milk and balloons and I read Cowboy and Octopus, a hysterical story about an unlikely friendship.

This year, Josiah is into cowboys and horses, so that is the theme of the celebrations.
After school, Jo opened gifts from Joe, Isaac and I. He got an MP3 player, some books about horses and drawing, clothes, a Star Wars Lego set, a dragon kite, and horse riding lessons which will begin in May.
Patty, mom, Joe, the boys and I went to the Deli at Jo's request, but I was feeling so sick, I went back to the truck and slept. Bummer.
After dinner, we went home, and got ready for homegroup -- I went to sleep. I understand there was a celebration for Jo then, also.
He had a good day.
The birthday festivities continued Thursday night at family dinner.
We had his favorite meal, pasta fagoli! (It's one of my favorites, too!)
Then he opened gifts from MeMe and Grandpa.

It was pretty extreme -- skateboard, helmet, knee pads, roller-shoes!
He had a blast trying everything out. He is a cautious kid, but once his tests his limits, there is nothing he will not try.

Today, we are taking a little birthday break, but tomorrow he has his "friend party".
The theme?
Cowboys, of course.

The story of Josiah . . .
It was a Tuesday, April 9, 2002, when I began to feel regular contractions.
I was a warm day, a gorgeous day, and I had been vacuuming when I doubled over and thought, excitedly, "I think this is it!!"
I wasn't sure, because I didn't really feel contractions with Isaac. My water broke with him and it was too early for him to arrive. His birth was a completely different experience from what was about to happen.
My doctor and the hospital I was going to use for Josiah's birth was a 45 minute drive, so I called my doc and asked if I could come in and get checked. He agreed it would be a good thing to do.
I was three weeks early, but Isaac had been 61/2 weeks premature, and I knew early delivery was a possibility for me.
Joe and I took Isaac to grandma and grandpa's and went to the doctor's office.
When I got there, the news was stunning. I was dilated to a 5 and 80% effaced.
The decision was made to admit me and get the ball rolling, so to speak.
Joe and I went over to the hospital, got admitted and I was taken to a delivery room where they broke my water.
Jen Forbes, Patty and Emily were all in the room with us while I labored, but only for about 10 minutes.
At my first strong contraction, Jen began to cry, and the girls were led to the waiting area. Josiah was on his way.
The anaesthesiologist was called and I was given an epidural.
Joe and I laughed and talked and held hands, waiting to see our new little son. It was exciting, and relaxing.
Then, the nurse said, "I'll get the doctor. You are ready to push."
The doctor came in and three pushes later, there was Josiah, so beautiful and wailing his head off.
It was 4:20 in the afternoon when he arrived.
I always say having Josiah is the easiest thing I have ever done, and it is true.
I was allowed to hold him for a while, but he was so upset at being out in the cold, harsh world, and he was taken to the nursery to get washed up and tended to.
Joe went with him, overseeing his care.
After a time, Joe returned and said they were going to keep Josiah in the NICU for observation because it looked like his nostrils were flaring and they wanted to make sure he could breathe.
This was scary for me because Isaac was in the NICU for 2 1/2 weeks while his lungs developed and he could breathe on his own. It was a terrifying time for Joe and I and I did not want to relive any of it.
Finally, at 10 p.m., they wheeled Josiah into the room in his little bassinet, and he was snuggled warm in his blankets, sleeping peacefully.
I've done this three times now, and each time I was handed one of my sons for the first time, a sense of overwhelming joy and awe came over me, and I cried and laughed and just stared at him for the longest time.
There were a faithful few there, waiting it out to see Josiah. Micah and Patty and Jen and Emily. They were some of the first people to meet him and hold him.
And that is the story of how Josiah came to be a part of our family.
To me, Josiah is a quiet storm, generally laid back, but with passion that resides deep in his soul. He is tender and gentle and full of compassion. He is a very selfless kid. He is a helper. He is brave. He is a little lion cub.
Well, maybe not so little anymore. . .

A poem for today, and a little history

The Red Wheelbarrow
by William Carlos Williams
so much depends upon a red wheel barrow glazed with rain water beside the white chickens. I love this poet, and this poem. He was from New Jersey, and was the OBGYN at the hospital where I was born, Patterson General, in Patterson, NJ. Williams died in 1963. The doctor who delivered me was his replacement. I like to think of it as my near brush with literary fame. It's a stretch, I know.

"A cup of coffee, a donut, and you . . ."

We woke up to rain, rain and more rain.
Patty and I went to Starbucks today for the promotional coffee giveaway.
Daniel tagged along.
To get the word out about their newest brew, there were free tall "Pikes Place Roast" for all who were at Starbucks between 11 and 11:30 a.m.
It was quite good, a medium blend, very smooth and not too weak, as I was concerned it might be. I would definitely drink it again.
They also gave away tiny donuts from their new donut lineup. They were okay, but not very much like a donut; more like a small bunt cake.
It was the right kind of day for a trip to Starbucks, for some hot coffee and sweets.
Apparently, others we know thought so too.
We saw Kate there when we arrived (she was, as always, studying), and the high school girls showed up with Mrs. Boswell as we were leaving.
I love coffee!
Tomorrow, Josiah will be six.
SIX years old!!!
I remember his birth like it was yesterday . . . but I'll write about that tomorrow.
Right now, I'm quite tired.
Must be crashing from drinking that coffee!!

A poem fitting for today

April Rain Song

Let the rain kiss you
Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops
Let the rain sing you a lullaby
The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk
The rain makes running pools in the gutter
The rain plays a little sleep song on our roof at night
And I love the rain.

Langston Hughes