Stingerfest

Today was my children's elementary school fall festival. I love school events like this. I love seeing their personalities shine. I love the high-pitched squeal that girls make before they hug. I love that the fifth graders walk around in posses thinking they're so cool as they shove cotton candy in their mouths. I love the games and the hula hoop contest and that my kids are at ages when they still love giving their teachers hugs. I love the tradition in it and that they're making memories they'll have forever. And I love knowing that one day, when they take their own kids to a fall festival, it will be just as nostalgic for them as it is for me.

She put her sister in "jail". She thought it was hysterical. Luckily so did her sister. And these are the exact moments I love.

Scarred October

Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,

Tears from the depth of some divine despair

Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,

In looking on the happy Autumn-fields,

And thinking of the days that are no more.

-from Princess: Tears, Idle Tears by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

I was driving home today and noticed the colors of Autumn. Slight splashes of orange, red, and yellow have begun to appear in the trees along the highway I drive near blind from familiarity. They may have fallen and disappeared completely without notice if I hadn't glimpsed them. I feel that it's Fall. I feel my heart tugging at me prompting me to see, to feel. But I'm missing it.

Our life is a blur of movement. I drive, I listen to lectures, I come home, I take kids to activities, I work. If we're lucky we eat a quickly made dinner before 8pm. Then its baths and a story. Kisses and bedtime. And back downstairs to clean up and repack it all for tomorrow before I can crawl into my own bed.

We're in the process of transitioning from one chapter of life to another. I have to remind myself that transition is temporary and that, eventually, the new will become normal. But right now, as autumn swirls around me, I miss our old normal. We didn't pick apples this year. There is no apple butter. We've pressed no leaves because we've had no time to walk around collecting them. My house does not smell of freshly baked pumpkin muffins. I miss silly little normal things like that. But I also miss deeper things.

I miss having a partner. I've done transitional a lot in my life. But I've never done it alone. I miss companionship and sharing the craziness with someone. I miss going to bed with someone and waking up beside the same someone everyday. The same someone who understands the day ahead of you. Who understands the confusing emotions in the loss of the old mingled with the excitement of the new. Who understands that sometimes you just need to cry and sometimes you just need to sit down.

Maybe October isn't passing me by. Maybe I'm ignoring it. October has big heart-shaped scar right in the middle of it. A scar I'm not ready to deal with. I don't just miss having a partner. I miss my partner. I miss the normal I use to know with him.

But there's nothing I can do about that. So I'm ignoring it and transitioning.

I know I've been quiet. I'm here. Well, not here so much as somewhere. Somewhere, moving on, raising kids, and letting October fall away like the leaves that define it.

The Quiet Arrival of Autumn

autumn arrived this morning

shrouded in mist from a cool night's rain

ground still damp, and already leaf scattered.

summertime took its leave on

sweet, crisp air that carries my heart

to hushed places of reverie.

there is a quiet in autumn warmth

of peace mingled with departure

as the earth slowly curls back within itself

seeking solace for a time.

and I, with it, retreat to gentle meditation

of what was and what has come to be.

let grace fall in golds and reds

and still the ground with composure.

Exactly What I Needed

{this moment}

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

*inspired by SouleMama

Weekends Are For...

...festivals. Especially ones that involve Greek food like Spanokopita, dolmadas, and frappes. And a lecture about a beautiful, art filled cathedral and the history of a centuries old faith, our faith. And if some wonderful friends join you, well, that just makes the whole thing even better.

When the Mice Are Away...The Cat Sleeps All Day

{this moment}

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

*inspired by SouleMama

Matthews Alive! (Otherwise Known As Our Local Labor Day Festival)

Parades. Freshly Squeezed Lemonade. Funnel Cakes. Face Painting. Rows of craftsmen selling their art. People dressed up in period dress scaring young children. These are a few of my favorite things. (That song is stuck in my head because the von Trapps were among the characters walking around, singing of course, because what else would Maria have them do.)

Festivals have been going on since Biblical days and parades since Medieval Mystery Plays appeared on the scene. Both rooted in celebration and community. Days when we all come together to have a little fun and celebrate a common bond. In the case of modern day fairs, I'm pretty sure an outsider looking in would say that the common bond is a love of deep fried food. I happen to think it's a chance to see people you know, support your town, appreciate great local arts and crafts, and the bonus is deep fried food.

A fair is like a big case study of human behavior. During a parade you can always count on people to do a few things: cheer for firefighters, give respectful applause to veterans, and shout out to the kids they know who give an embarrassed look back. I get a great sense of nostalgia and tradition from counting on those things. And the festival itself has aspects we all count on. Like the artisans I look for every year, or how the girls know exactly where their favorite face-painter sets up. (Yes, we have a favorite face-painter. She uses glitter putting her far above the rest. The boy was also won over by her this year when he found out she would dye his hair purple, something he tells me he's going to do permanently in high school. Go for it, kid.) And the boy knows exactly which food vendors he wants to go to. He has a lemonade guy, a chicken-on-a-stick guy, and an ice cream guy. This year I tried to switch up the ice cream guy, but the scowl I got made me change my mind.

Above is my new art. I'm so excited to get those prints framed and put on the wall. And my new necklace from a lady I've begun to visit every year. I get more compliments on her necklaces than anything else I own.

I love a good festival. But the real reason I love this particular festival? For me it does exactly what it's supposed to. I fall in love with this little community. If only for a day, I love this little town just for the simple act of throwing such a great party. At heart, I'm pretty easy to please.