What happens at home, plus a poem finds a home

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Home days. A weekend of sweet home days at last. One of the downsides of living in a place where it is always impossibly beautiful out is that the soul of the introverted homebody grows desperate for a rainy day to take shelter in. Let’s just say one or two raindrops fell this weekend, and I am happy.

These pictures are from Friday when we wisely rode the wave of the week into the aspens, and though I’ve felt the longing for more “fall” all weekend, I’m remembering her other faces. There is a backlog of homey things to do: sweeping down cobwebs, harvesting from the garden, making soup, canning applesauce, reading all morning in the orange chair by the window while the clouds move across the window, teacup in hand. My daughters have played for hours on end as if the only thing they need in this world is one another and time and space to themselves.

Towards evening on Saturday we went out the door for a walk up the ridge. Once, my husband and I walked there every single evening. We walked it before kids, while pregnant, with one baby, then two. Lately, we’ve slowed way down. Our family walks these days tend to turn towards the river, at the other end of our street, or up into the mountains for “real” hikes, but the river has been dry since August, and sometimes the mountains are another country we are too tired to journey to. And so we went up the ridge. “Why don’t we do this more often?” the man of the place asked. “It’s the kind of thing we do when we aren’t doing anything else,” I said. “We shouldn’t do anything else more often,” he said. From the ridge we saw our house, our city, the mountainside swathed in golden hues. It is the best place I know to really see what it is we call home.

In other news from the homefront, I am grateful to have a poem in the fall issue of Taproot. What an honor, and what a pleasure to have my lines accompanied by a gorgeous image by Kristen Johns. I kept marveling at how perfect an illustration they found for my poem until I learned it was custom made. Pretty classy, Taproot! Thank you for sharing the warmth of our candlemaking joy.

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6 thoughts on “What happens at home, plus a poem finds a home

  1. So proud of you girl!! and so honored our sweet dipping was shared with the world through your perfect words!
    You turn our acts into stories, you breath poetry into our circles, together we are spinning our lives into fairy tales!
    Here’s to you bringing your gifts to the world, it will be better for it!

  2. Congratulations, dear sister! I can’t wait to read it…and to see your shining face again…(just got back two days ago!)

  3. Oh how serendipitous my day has begun! Not ten minutes ago I was laying in bed next to my slumbering youngest reading your very words in Taproot. And I loved your poem! I loved the warmth it gave my chilly bones this morning, and I could almost smell the scent of melted beeswax. And then I stumbled across this blog via Tonya’s and here you are! I look forward to reading more!
    xo Jules

  4. So proud of my friend Kyce. I always knew you were on your way to big and beautiful places. Oh, and the autumn leaf crowns are so pretty too!

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