hope makers, all of them

The thread, the brush, the instrument, the oven -- hope makers, all of them.

The boys rediscovered Grandma Eleanor's old balalaika and threw together a bedtime band with every stringed instrument in the house, making music well past 10PM.

Tolliver has a new favorite muffin, almond poppy seed, which almost helps him forget how desperate he is, most nights, for midnight pizza.

Tucker tackled an original drumline cadence before band camp, and with some guidance from Grandpa Rod he composed a pretty impressive new score.

Hank has moved from balloon animals to Rainbow Loom bracelets, past duct tape and back to LEGO stop motion videos, constantly creating.

Making things - a painting, a sentence, a garden, a meal, - can feel like a miracle. My creativity tends to shrivel in the heat, but I am reminded that it may be possible to mend myself through making. This summer, especially, the boys seem to be realizing how the act of creation helps us handle the world and ourselves.

related: currently reading (after hearing about it via For The Good of the Order on Kelly Corrigan Wonders) Shop Class as Soulcraft: An Inquiry into the Value of Work by Matthew B. Crawford, and aiming to value using my hands as much as my mind...

summer days

There isn't much new to report, but maybe that's the point? 

Summer is watermelon on repeat and cousins and camp and rummaging through the fridge to find something to smash and grab, the same old seasonal love language of forced sunscreen application.

Summer is crossing the lawn to collect flowers in an empty beer can, ankles exposed to some kind of grass and clover collaboration, pausing to acknowledge the rabbits who can't even be bothered to move.

It's swatting mosquitos, wet swim suits, baseball games, corn on the cob. 

Summer is sitting on the patio with neighbors as the sun fades and sitting on the dock watching the kids swim and sitting at the pool letting the lifeguards do their job. It's sitting by the back door with coffee and the gift of another slow morning, body pressed against the right edge of the swivel chair, subconsciously leaving room for the one who comes straight to my side for the work of waking up all the way.

Our days have not been devoid of excitement, just mostly safe and steady and mundane.

lovely lately

It feels like a privileged, lucky thing to say that life is lovely lately:

OSU faculty included Hank at summer strings, admitting they may not be able to teach harp technique but they would absolutely enjoy making music together.

Peaches are in season and my sister left a bag on our porch.

Recent service projects allowed the boys to distribute sunscreen and insect repellent, water bottles and charging cables, to stock pantry shelves and record personal stories of customers.

We've enjoyed lots of opportunities for local live music, plus an all day honor choir event with Tuck. 

And we are grateful for the long term loan of a beautiful green lever harp, from neighbors who just happened to have one languishing.

The birthday girl got her ears pierced, a circle of family surrounded the salon chair, so many extra sets of eyes.

Tols has taken advantage of invitations to kayak on the river and to play on the All Star team and also plenty of time to chill with a book and an ice bath.

Turns out sixteen year olds don't ask for help often but when one wants to learn to arrange flowers, there are LOTS of reasons to rinse tin cans to fill with shareable bouquets.