“The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing. One cannot help but be in awe when he contemplates the mysteries of eternity, of life, of the marvelous structure of reality. It is enough if one tries merely to comprehend a little of this mystery every day. Never lose a holy curiosity.”
We, once again, have become the napping house.
This kitten is like his animal totem when he naps, content to curl up on his belly and watch over him while he rests. The boys have been playing so hard outside each day that down-time comes as a welcome relief. Sometimes, it comes right before dinner, and yet it still does not discourage their regular bedtime. My friend, Nicole, said it perfectly last week on a rainy day:
Us Coloradans need the permission of a rainy day to stop and rest, we get so few of them.
Summer evenings, with their long shadows and golden highlights, beg for long sits on the back patio for a good show. The dogs and kitten go a little bonkers for a while, anxious to, as the boys call it, “get out their sillies” before their own bedtimes (“the sillies,” evidently, include a serious curiosity about certain fun drinks at the coffee table).
There are baseballs a-plenty around our backyard. Sometimes it looks like a wonky Easter Egg Hunt out here.
But our boys knows where each one is. Like a grab-and-go buffet, he picks them up and practices, practices, practices.
We rented “Field of Dreams” two nights ago and watched it twice. It was the language that our boy speaks clearly–the love of the game. I see it in him, that spark that Shoeless Joe speaks of…it leaves a vivid curiosity in my momma’s heart about where he goes with this love. Only time will tell…
I’ve dubbed a new name for this guy. Farmer Hank it is.
He pushed some blueberry bushes into the ground, buried in bales of peat, and we’ve been diligently watering and watching.
So far, success.
From “farm” to table, people, even if our “farm” is a strip of space between our patio and the neighbor’s fence.
As we watched, the sky moved out of it’s bluebird phase and into it’s painted one…
And our napper finally, and groggily, made his way outside mumbling, “I need dinner.”
I love his sleepy, pouty lips as he tries to wake up enough to eat as much dinner as needed in order to get some homemade lemon cream ice cream. Ah, the worries of being five. ;)
And the worries of our tireless leader, pushing just a little more work time in before the day finally fades.
Thankful for him. Thankful for all that he does, day in and day out, that allows us the luxury of spending a lazy summer evening watching children nap and play, dogs go crazy, and the sky go from bright to faded, all together on our back porch over dinner.
May I never lose the ability to marvel our every day.
P.S. My mother’s middle name is “Marvel.” I think we should all take that as our own, just as a simple reminder, yes?