Let the guardian spirit of the hearth be not its evil genius, but its muse….   she can produce much by helping her husband to produce, compelling him to keep a watch on himself, to give his best, helping him to recover after the inevitable lapses, buoying him up when he loses courage, consoling him for his disappointments without accentuating them through undue insistence, soothing his sorrows, being his sweet reward after his labors.

After the efforts of work, a man is like a wounded soldier.  He needs to be surrounded with care and quite.  Do not force him, let him relax and encourage him, take an interest in what he is doing; add your strength to his at the moment that he is, as it were, depleted by a perhaps excessive expenditure of himself; in short, be a mother to him, and this strong man, who is all weakness, will feel himself braced up and fresh for new struggles.

Children complicate life, but so sweetly that they should serve to give the worker fresh courage rather than to lessen his resources.  The little ones take much of you, and what good would they be if they did not now and then tease and tax you?

But they hearten you just as much, and perhaps more;they can heighten your inspiration by mingling joy with it; they give a love-lit reflection of nature and of man and thus defend you against the abstract; they bring you back to the real, about which their questioning eyes are waiting for an exact commentary from you.  Their pure faces preach integrity, that sister of knowledge; and does not their readiness to believe, to hope, to have great dreams, and to expect everything from the fatherhood that guides them – does not this uplift you also, you man of thought, and give you motive for hope?  You can see an image of God and a sign of our immortal destiny on this image of the future .

A. G. Sertillanges in, The Intellectual Life: Its Spirit, Conditions, Methods

Aww gee… what a cute, chubby little baby you were!

“Don’t let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set the example for the believers in speech, life, love, faith, and in purity.”

I love you!

In a house with one bathroom and eleven inhabitants…someone’s bound to suffer.

He’s not a man you want to mess with.

It’s generally best to comply with his wishes.

He’s usually pretty jolly…

But don’t you forget… he knows things.

The garden got a bit of a late start (and this photo is from a week ago) but these were the first fruits from our garden… a very thrilling feeling for me!

Keep on keepin on, little brother!  We sure do miss you back home.

With a chance of rain…

We spent my birthday relaxing.

We had a leisurely brunch of eggs Benedict and fruit, before driving out to the house that we’re preparing to move into.

Once there, we enjoyed the traditional birthday walk through a clover patch to observe and photograph Dan’s honeybees.

Then we came back and watched the girls blow bubbles, and swim in a little wading pool in the front yard.

Dan and I sat and tried to read a bit, enjoying a glass of wine before dinner.  A friend of my parent’s just passed on a set of wicker furniture to use on the new porch, and we gave it it’s (second) maiden voyage that afternoon.

My family and the Lonesome Hill Gang joined us for a birthday dinner on the porch, of cold cuts, cheese, fruit and wine, and homemade birthday cake (thanks, Hannah!). It was very low key and relaxing… just my cup of tea, these days!

“If you happen to have read another book about Christopher Robin…”

The opening lines of our well loved, well read copy of Winnie the Pooh. The five of us lay crowded on our queen sized bed in the sweltering heat of a ninety degree night.  We’re beginning a new bedtime story, having just finished The Wind in the Willows.

For some reason, this particular evening, Kinsley persistently insisted that I was going to be the one to read the night time story.  I never read the night time story, but when you’re three, it seems to be crucial to see how much you can rock the boat without consequence.

Dan starts with the introduction.  He always starts with the introduction.  He  gets to the part where Christopher Robin ran into the arms of the brown and furry bear named Winnie, and Kinsley interrupts….

“Papa?  How do people poke all that hair into man’s arms?”

This requires a long conversations, involving many topics.  Finally, the reading recommences.  Dan reads a few more sentences, getting all the way to the part where small, squeaky voice of Piglet interrupts the author’s explanation of Things to ask why so much is being said about Pooh, and so little about Piglet.  Kinsley interjects…

“Why does Piglet talk like a baby?”

By this time, both Sophie and Truxton are sleeping.  Dan reads a bit more.  Just about the time that Pooh is making his grand entrance down the stairs on the back of his head, Kinsley remembers the part where…

“He [whoever "he" is] falls down on his knees, ’cause he is scared of monsters, and his Mama tells him that he can watch ‘that’ show.” And, by the way – “How did Pooh get prickeldy things in his back?”