Shaking Into Springtime.

There is something in the air that comes along in early springtime that leaves such a bright taste in my mouth. As if the winds are meant to prod awake all of the sleeping green, I catch the spell and can't seem to sit still until well into Autumn. What comes along with that, I think, is the very conscious awareness of growth. As we watch strong shoots find their way through the dead leaves and gaudy blossoms pull down the branches of trees and bushes and stems with their grace, it's difficult not to think of growing. Indoors, souls that may have sat silent through a quiet, stern winter shake off their melancholy and, with a thorough prayer for a time to be pensive, throw open the door once again.

We are blessed with passion that waxes and wanes, with the ability to sit still and reach within but also to jump upright and grab hold of the world beyond. Where we're at now, it feels good to get lost in such a vastness, brimming with beauty. With each passing day, I watch as my son falls in love with the rest of the world.

Gabriel and I seem to have caught the fever this month, and are happily eating up most of these warming days. Breaking in a new bicycle, eating as many meals as possible picnic-style, digging out the sidewalk chalk, and concocting wild plans for birdhouses - we have most certainly used the gift of more daylight to our advantage. And for now, the light will only continue to grow, as we will.

Found.

A full winter has passed since I last came here, and so many things have been busy growing, learning, falling, moving... Two seasons have run their course, and our home continues to weave with a similar rhythm. Days now are spent learning songs, planning an expanded garden, treating shovels like lightsabers, practicing letter-writing, and clinging to what may be the last Spring for nap-time. I've taken the most warmth in watching Gabriel's growth process over this past cold snap; he climbs every surface he can and keeps his mouth full to bursting with questions concerning the sounds on the moon and the bones hidden in graveyards. I have been given advice, told brand new stories, the object of my rather stupid idea of teaching him to punch properly, and more of a role model than ever. I am humbled by the responsibility and absorb it with every ounce of myself.

What Spring will bring, I do not know, but it is certain to hold enough blossoming and fruition to keep our eyes wondering and our bellies full.

Nice & Easy.

Enjoying these early Autumnal evenings before they start to darken is one of the easiest ways to procrastinate cooking dinner. Sometimes it feels like there's nothing quite as pressing or as important as just slowing down. Funnily enough, it's the simplest things we forget to do (like breathing, laying flat on our backs, listening to somebody else's heartbeat). I've cancelled appointments and scooted piles of dirty laundry out of sight so that I could do these things. Somehow, it's the quiet moments that make every other minute so much sweeter.

I catch myself believing that every easy, slow moment is the most beautiful one I've experienced. Somehow, this deep breath was better than the last. And I'm glad to say, I know myself to be right.

around town: The Rocky Mountain Dinosaur Resource Center!

On a recent camping trip, Gabriel and I visited a museum we've been itching to go to for a while. Passing through the little town of Woodland Park on our usual way to our favorite nearby camping destination , we decided we just had to stop. (I think this had a lot to do with Gabriel's frantic shouts of "Tri-cerops! Tri-cerops!" as we drove past the building and its realistic dinosaur statues that grace its front lawn.)

The Rocky Mountain Dinosaur Resource Center turned out to be a great way to spend the morning, as well as quite a subtle gem in terms of fossil finds and original pieces. As a frequent visitor to our Denver Museum of Nature and Science (whose dinosaur exhibit does dwarf Woodland Park's but would be half the size without original fossils shown in the Woodland Museum), I was happy to find a number of familiar fossils, skeletons, and stones. I was impressed with the amount of original fossils the small museum had, as well as its perfect collection of vintage movie posters inspired by our extinct friends.

After a very animated story time, a peek through the large, unique gift shop, and a few games of paleontologist, we were back on our way. Despite its small size, it's certainly worth a visit, especially if you have anybody in your midst who can mime dinosaur faces as well as this monster of mine can.

A Summertime.

With each new season, I can't help but wonder at how quickly time seems to pass. As soon as I find some peace with the silence and personal timing of winter, and really realize the immaculate ways of sleepy squirrels and floating snowflakes, things change. And as I begin get a hearty fill of sprouts, spring clouds, tender shoots, and bare feet, things change. And once those bare feet have lost their tender winter soles and we're just getting the knack of eating every meal in a hammock, things change. And then Autumn, oh, that painfully beautiful Autumn. Fall flies by much too quickly for my taste; I doubt I could ever fill up enough on the energizing air, the leaves changing and moving on so sadly and enchantingly, the smell of Earth preparing for hard, quiet times ahead... oh goodness, no.

Although I can hardly contain myself for the coming of Autumn, this summer seems to have danced past entirely too quickly. Gabriel and I did our best to enjoy each drop we could (and we most definitely did), but I'm left with a strange sense of loss. I am excited for the change to come (not only in the seasons, but in my own blooming son and my own self), moreso than ever before, but I feel we've left behind a great deal this season.

Friends who lose touch, souls ready to move on, flowers finished with their cycles of life- the end of summer is a natural time for loss and appreciation. I haven't felt the pain of fall this acutely before, or noticed how well it seems to conicide with the seemingly random chaos of our lives. As far as we may remove ourselves, we are still spirits of the ground, the wind, the world.

I enter a new chapter knowing how much I've left behind, some for better and some for worse, and in full faith that we'll find answers in the rhythm of our lives. The small babe I've spent every moment raising has gone, and in his place is a little person- a real, thinking, talking, joking person independent of me in so many growing ways. I know I have to say goodbye to the tiny, sleepy baby that once was Gabriel, but am so incredibly happy to welcome a growing, laughing boy into my life.

Our summer has been so busy, so blissful (if less full of basil and pesto than I'd hoped), and a growing experience for all of us. And I do think we're ready to see what the next season has in store for us...

around town: The Pillar of Fire.

I've spent a great deal of time dreaming of all the places I'd like to visit and all of the buildings, architecture, and masterworks I could see. Thailand, with its endless temples and waterways; Romania and it's dark, incredible monuments tucked at its heart; Egypt and the infamous pyramids and larger-than-life statues; Wales and the hundreds of castles hiding among the hills... There seems to be no end of places worth visiting. Somehow, though, we tend to forget about the land we live on and all of its unexplored, sometimes forgotten nooks and crannies. A few blocks from our home lies a historic landmark I always tend to under-appreciate.

Westminster, my hometown so humbled by the looming shadow of Denver, has its own castle: The Pillar of Fire. Some call it the Westminster Castle, the Witches Tower, or simply "the Big Red Castle," but it has an interesting history and can be seen from nearly every area within a fifty mile radius on a clear day (or so their groundskeeper tells me). A broadcasting spot for AM radio, it's a place that is easy to find thanks to its tall radio tower with a bright, red-blinking beacon on its top (something I always tried to scout out before my brother on late trips home).

It's currently partially used for K-12 education, but was opened in 1908 as Westminster University. The initial hopes of the university were illustrated in its premature title: "Princeton of the West." After multiple abandonments, supposed hauntings (this was a very passionate belief during my childhood, namely in the form of the high tower witch), a number of Klu Klux Klan meetings (the group used the campus for gatherings and cross-burnings in the late 1920s- eek!), the castle has been restored and is open for classes, church gatherings, public tours, and library use.

On our last tour, we climbed carefully to the second-highest tower peak. My mother and I looked around for clues to where the witch may have lived (of course), but only found a small, hidden ladder tucked into the corner of the dark room (which, I'm assuming, lead to the highest, and tiniest, tower of the castle). For now, I'm afraid the legend of the Pillar of Fire witch remains a mystery.

Missing.

After going through some photographs from the last few months, I realized I'm woefully behind on keeping this blog up-to-date. Because I post simply for myself, I think it's important to include sweet days and outings here, even if their photos and stories are a bit dusty. For the next few weeks, I'm going to attempt to update this blog with all that has been happening since Spring brought us back to life.

Buzzings.

Spring is in full tilt here (we're only a few delicious days away from the official start of summer!) and we have been so blissfully wrapped up in things to do, see, taste, create... It's hard for me to reflect on how things have been when I've stayed away from this blog for such a long time. I hope to find a rhythm for writing here again, and soon. But until then, there's a garden to water and a myriad of sweet bugs to greet.

Easter.

For Easter this year, we kept things simple and had a handful of family members over for brunch and bubble-blowing. After far too much blueberry french toast, a very lovely mimosa (or two), and a hearty helping of honeydew and blackberries, we traipsed outside to see where all of our beautiful eggs had got to. Gabriel and his six-year-old cousin found a few basketfuls (which we had to continue hiding for about an hour after they had been retrieved... and retrieved... and retrieved) and spent the rest of the morning playing in the sandbox and chasing bubbles.

Gabriel was given a few new toys perfect for kicking off the season. Two bug nets, a bug house complete with necklace string and microscope (something we've been using to stick cicada eggshells into), bubbles, a watering can, and a great book - I Love Dirt! - that I snagged here (one of the best places to shop for kids stuff), which is full of great, simple, season-sorted ideas for outdoor play with a little one. I have a feeling we'll be very busy indeed staining out jeans with grass and mud this summer.