a new pathway to an old conclusion

May is shockingly close. I can almost hear the earth growing green, all of it happening so fast. The boys will have their piano recital soon. One of my favorite parts of their instructor's teaching method is the assigned slow motion practice. The boys don't love it, but I know it helps their performance. Plus it's a daily reminder to me, times three, to slow down too. 
After last week's Grand Event and all day Science Olympiad competition over the weekend, we aimed to fill one day on the calendar with nothing but sky. I noticed the dahlia tubers have pushed through the dirt. I am a talented horticulturist in terms of growing things like to-do lists, but for some reason the tiny sprouts surprised me. I need things like spring flowers and piano rehearsal to stop me in my tidying tracks, before the boys outgrow me for good. Slowing down reminds me that peace can be as powerful as progress, 

Also pictured, outstanding orchestra student awards and All Arts Day activities and an inaugural trip to Taco Bell.


here's to tomorrow

The spring sun feels medicinal. We planted dahlia tubers this week in between field trips and fundraising events. Is there anything more real than that, a seed in the soil that might grow into a blooming plant? Or are we just over here holding on to hope long after it should have expired, I wonder. The packaging indicates we have to dig these things up in the fall, to winter tenderly. This may be more than we bargained for.

Three active boys who eat and play and grow themselves? Point with a dizzying finger at any line on the calendar, all of it turning us into a taxi, might also be more than we bargained for. The cake bash, the annual talent revue, academic awards night and baseball practice, youth group and birthday parties and piano club. Call it madness, call it glorious, call us lucky. All we know is to do the work plus hope. 


a quick astronomy interlude

Considering the next total solar eclipse to cross through Ohio will be September 2099, we're all feeling really lucky to have seen the one this week. What a privilege, to access that experience. The lawn chairs and the long lines for donuts and the constantly refreshed traffic maps and the general lunacy, it was all worth it. To be honest, nothing in our day to day lives seems to be aligning quite as perfectly as the sun and the moon did on Monday, but there is a lot of love in the dark. 

For a cosmic moment it felt like everyone on the planet, or at least on the path of totality, paused to look up together, a brief but universal communion. While the moon completely obscured the sun we felt a new appreciation for how much heat the sun provides us here on earth. The whole thing was amazing, the way gravity shifted and a green hue took over the sky at first, like we were under Friday night stadium lights. 

April 8th was a solid reminder that basically everything is out of our control. But also that scientists, using only the laws of celestial motion, could predict that whole thing down to the minute. Three celestial bodies in one gravitational system moved into a straight line. I can't even get the boys to stand and smile at the same time for a photo. 


glimmers abound

Tennis season started for Tucker, and Hank's belated birthday wish came true at the Titanic exhibit.
Tolliver and his air trajectory team met with a real rocket scientist. 
There were double rainbows after last weeks tornado warnings, and Hank played rainbow games with a beloved walking school bus buddy who moved to Colorado but is visiting Ohio for the eclipse.
Tuck spent four days with his high school choir touring NYC, survived the earthquake during a workshop with the cast of Wicked, and is home safe now.
Baseball practice begins this week and the younger boys are both performing in the Bobcat Revue and the band will play at the Cake Bash next weekend.
I'm not sure this level of activity is actually sustainable, but board games and books and glimmers abound.


Easter weekend

Clear Creek and Clintonville