my bathtub is a time machine.

i drew myself a bath, let the water run over my toes. i poured in some salts because i like their grit, and i like the way they smell, though i'm not sure what the fragrance is supposed to be. they are a homemade gift in an unmarked glass bottle. they're sweet and fresh. i've nearly used a third of my portion.

then i poured some more.

and just like that, i found myself somewhere in a memory. i was a little girl in an unnamed apartment...clean and white and empty with firm brown carpet and freshly painted walls. i saw myself exploring, peeking around corners, and pondering adventure. i was there. submerged in this recollection. it was keen and real, and then it was gone. i couldn't tell you how old i was or whose apartment i was in. but the scent of those salts brought me back...through a series of buried connections i found myself in the past. time travel. it was so vividly distinct and so cloudy, like remembering a dream. it shot me through the webs of my subconscious and then snapped me back to my bath.

i don't know if this makes any sense at all. or if it's supposed to. i think the smell of the salts must have reminded me, some version of myself, of painted walls. fresh paint.

this remembering has happened a surprising amount lately. perhaps it's because i live on the farm again...i'm home...stepping over this familiar ground. or maybe it's because now i have a child of my own and find myself reliving the past often, find myself aware of my age. aware that i'm supposed to be an adult, yet excited and envious to watch him grow. i find a part of myself beautifully longing and aching for something that has past away. contemplating breveity. but still, i'm delighted with each fleeting memory...capturing each treasure in a mason jar like children do.

i'm thoroughly enjoying this life, the making and the remembering. the change. from time to time, though, i do admittingly get lost in the photographs, even ones from not even a year ago. when our son was born. the nostalgia is sticky sweet and heavy like smoke. the years lap unyieldingly, flying right on by. i'm amazed at how different everything has become. but what's stranger still, is how much everything is the same.*

*but more on that later.

brave little toaster syndrome.

today is my birthday.

i'm going into 26 feeling heavy and full.

blessed and excited, but full.

a week ago, my grandma's younger sister died.

friday night, my 16-year-old chihuahua died.

today, i am officially one year older.

and tomorrow marks five years since one of
my best friends passed.

and my son is due any day. 

i have spent the better part of the last two weeks settling into our farmhouse...

i've been moving at what feels like an incredibly slow speed.

though i do have a self-imposed "deadline"...

i'm trying my pregnant darnedest to get this place ready

(of course i understand he won't care too much about

 the state of his first home, but i do).

it has made me so very tired.

it's the same house i lived in when i was little.

but we have it looking completely different.

completely.

then, paul and i spent yesterday hosting a

pathetic little mini yardsale with our main intention being to sell
this antique bedroom suite of mine.

our new home is simply too small,
and i have enjoyed purging all the excess.

however, as i sat there yesterday, watching the cars go by...
most not stopping...i stared at the back of the vanity that has been
 in my family's possession for years

(though not an heirloom), and my heart began to ache.

i imagined it to be a person...

standing there on display, not garnering any attention.

no one wanting it. no one thinking it special.

i didn't even want it anymore really.

i saw it as homeless and old and sad and unrecognized
and empty and unappreciated.

over 100 years old and now a has been on the curb.

splendor lost.

i felt like i was casting away a friend
who had been there by my side,

and i cried.

why was i insisting upon changing everything

and choosing to part with something
i could have found a way to keep?

too much change at once.

a little part of me said "hold on a little longer"...

and i tried to explain it to paul...

how sad the furniture looked. how unwanted all the stuff must feel.

he said i was being riduculous and had
brave little toaster syndrome.

he was right of course.

now, i know i am sentimental, and i do feel that it is ok to "love"

certain things, things that bring you great joy and hold special memories...

prizes and treasures,

but i do realize how silly it is to become attached in such a way

that it should ever cause you distress.

stuff is just stuff...the furniture no more than wood and nails.

and there are actual people who deserve
the outpouring of my heart.

tears need not be shed over furniture.

it's just odd how your emotions seep out.

it really was all about change,

about being overwhelmed.

i was really sad about Dottie. sad about Derek.
scared and raw and exhausted

and hormonal (had to throw that one in there)...

and crying during our yardsale at the most random of times.

upheaval.

((and i just trapped a huge spider under a lid and don't have the heart to kill it.

i'm that emotionally confused right now.))

but, let it be known,

ready or not,

of all things crowding my thoughts:

my son will be here soon...

and, for that reason,

i feel a tremendous amount of undeniable, unmistakable joy.

PS. the furniture set DID in fact sell. a lovely couple saw it for all it had to offer,

all its potential, and now it is going off to live with a new family to love it,

restore it, give it new life and purpose.

hopefully, they too will pass it down when it's time.

i'm glad other people choose to own things with a past and a story.

i think we're all connected.

patience.

i've been gone for awhile.

i wouldn't be surprised if this doesn't reach anyone at all.

if this blog were a garden, i suppose it'd look something

like the bamboo that has choked out my grandmother's circle of roses beside the driveway of our soon-to-be new old home.

i'm feeling restored now.

these days, i have more and more energy and less and less blah.

these early months of baby making has left me drained.

the onset of all the tremendous change coming our way has had me feeling raw

and chopped off at the roots.

but i am grounded again...

and the grass is lovely and plush,

spongy and green,

like an inviting bed.

i feel, deep down, i was made to artistically create.

lately, there hasn't been a whole lot of that going on.

no silver, no stones, no illustrating...

or quilting or sewing or painting

or ANY of the things i figured i would have mastered by now.

a few sketches every now and then, a few words

when something won't let me rest.

and that's it.

typically, when it comes to "getting it out" -

putting my heart down that is -

i like to do things quickly.

see results instantly.

very childlike, i know.

patience has eluded me

and creative motivation fallen flat.

of course, it doesn't hurt that all my supplies are packed neatly away in storage as we await the completion of renovations on our house.

humph.

but i still feel the pulse.

saturday, paul and i stopped by a fabulous handmade market 

in north carolina on our way to the beach.

there were so many talented artists there doing their thing.

and in my depths, a twinge.

THIS IS FOR ME...still.

though i don't know what it looks like yet.

the beautiful jj was there with her table of jewels.

it was such an inspiration to finally meet her...

such a captivating person

(with talent out the wazoo)!

i'm not in school anymore - breathe.

i think i can do this - still.

right now though, 

i am taking the time i need, my body needs,

to create thee absolute best thing that could 

possibly ever come from my life.

our baby.

and there is no shame in that.

and while it feels like i'm standing still at the moment,

everything is actually happening incredibly fast.

life is unfolding while i type this...

and that, my friends, is some kind of divine art.

pumpkin pie season

oh goodness gracious,

there is a zesty nip in the air here in the wv hills.

and it seems this morning it has shot right to the hearts of all of us here on

mockingbird drive...

invigorating us and putting some fiest in our step!

even the mini horses by our driveway are tromping and biting.

i can almost smell the warm buzz of the heater...

awaking from its long sleep...

being put to use for the first time this season.

 

it won't be long til the frost starts to blanket and sparkle...

and the smell of Christmas pine permeates our home.

isn't autumn grand?

so warm and crisp at the same time.

i think so.