going places

Tucker and I saw Hadestown over the weekend and although I know it is not my place to try to sculpt a particular outcome, I couldn't help but imagine him playing the piano; on stage with the cast, the orchestra on several occasions really stole the show.

Friday evening Tuck went to the middle school dance. He didn't have much to say afterward, but smiled and admitted having fun.

He is suddenly so teenager-y, broody and moody and secretive. Most of the time he moves like he's been mentored by a tortoise, unless he's made his own plans in which case there's a real sense of urgency. 

He is typically surly for the first hour after waking, loquacious before bed. When he does want to talk, he speaks out of what seems like nowhere but what must be a real place inside him. His face contorts, a prelude to words, Where do the egg shells go? (compost, not trash) or What else has Nicholas Cage been in, besides PIG? 

I mean, he's almost thirteen and thinks he knows everything, except he also wonders where to place the stamp on an envelope and what assuage actually means.

He does know that a B minus is not the death of any dreams, and that sometimes failure is actually an option. He gets so engaged in projects that he often forgets to eat, but he's pretty sure he likes his hair shaggy and he always offers to help fold laundry or clean dishes before he heads for a screen. 

He has a questionable sense of direction but also really excellent manners and a big wide open heart.

weather whiplash

We've gone back and forth from shorts to winter coats and gloves to shorts again, all in under a week.

If there was any sort of chromatic crescendo this fall it was short-lived, like the leaves turned brown one day and fell the next. And then it snowed.

quick trip

Treat drinks and gambling, 

history lessons and target practice, 

cattle and catching up with our favorite West Virginia family

the future is outside

Walking in the woods is a little like reading a book, privy to lives different from our own.
Like eavesdropping on a conversation, like companionship, like participation in a larger world. 
The boys drift toward whatever looks interesting, the restorative theater of nature offering tender scenes: light that dapples, a decaying trunk, anything slithery. 

Aside from the chance to recalibrate, the value of paying attention to the environment may be its reminder that we are meant to survive.

speaking of locking the clock

rolling up our sleeves

Hank came in the back door this evening and hollered Mom, want to see my bandaid that proves I got the shot?

Waiting sure has been the long work.

After a pandemic-sized hiatus our calendar is beginning to fill with things like choir concerts and winter wrestling. 

And as the little boys begin the vaccine process, finally, we can solidify a family vacation in the desert and imagine more freely everything ahead into which we'll venture forth!

Halloweekend

Tolliver dressed (and danced) as Rick Astley

Tucker was working from home / on a zoom meeting

and Hank was Iggy Peck, Architect (a character from his favorite book) carrying blueprints from a real architect and a T square from his art teacher

All three boys had fun at school parties and trick-or-treating with friends, and our candy cabinet is very full.