it might be time

I've been thinking about revisiting this space more often.

Daffodils from our yard, photo on my iphone

I feel like the age of personal blogs is over.  All that is left now are those who do it professionally, or for posterity purposes.  I know that most of the people that read this blog forget it's even here.  Heck, I forget it's here.

If I began again,  I could use it as practice.  Practice writing for a wider audience.  Practice recording my various thoughts and feelings on a more public forum.  Remove the wonder and worry of being read and simply use it for myself.  An extra outlet.  No fretting as to it's regularity.  Writing only when inspiration strikes so as to not ignore what's important.

Sometimes I toy with the idea of writing something "for real."  The multiple stories in my head.  The lyrics I've written.  Or even a more specific blog that could become professional.  So why not start here and give it a shot?  For writing is almost never a waste.

Besides.

I want to remember right now.  This elated feeling of our first home.  Of my son who becomes more incredible to me all the time.  I'd like to rejoice in the simple aspects of life that make me smile.  Like the Blue Jay's that have made residence in our tree in the back.  Or the flowers I cut from the yard that are making the whole house smell sweet.  Or the huge smile on Peter's face every time I'm finished brushing his teeth and ask him if he wants a turn to try.  

Life can be such a mess of trying and failing.  It isn't always easy to rejoice in the simple when all you can see is the surface you're clinging onto to stay afloat.  But every once in a while, the waters calm and you're allowed to sit and reflect in the light.  I'm enjoying my current view right now, warmed by the light shining down. I have no wish to forget it.  I know all too well the importance of trying and failing in shaping our character and that it will come again.

So for now I will rejoice in the light, and write to remember.

us

I remember the vast openness of Rexburg
The tidy buildings and smell of beginning
Roads white with pressed snow
and us together there

I remember the encompassing closeness of Ashland
Packed with trees and windy streets
Knowing the place that made you
and us together there

I remember the scent of old and new in Lexington
Drenched in charm and possibility
A grip on my changing dreams
and us together there

Fast forward through the pause outside the circle
in a borrowed house

To a place we'll remember
As our first spot of land
A large exhale and inhale of elation
Taking official root; our family to build
and us forever

our house

Hello!  I am breaking through my blogging hiatus to share with you our new digs.  Because we bought a house!   Can you believe it??  Finding and buying this house was shockingly simple and straightforward.  It felt just right and as if the situation was waiting for us.  I am sad that my family in Utah doesn't have the chance to see our little house so I decided to take some casual pictures of our home as it is now and give a "grand" tour.

The house was built in 1959.  It's just under 2000 square feet.  Three bedrooms, 1 & 1/2 baths.  The back and front yard make about 1/4 acre (complete with a large kitchen garden that we are excited to continue!)  I have a deep passion for design and decor and Ian and I are excited to put our own stamp on this house with some changes but honestly... we're pretty pleased with how it is only a month in.  (And funnily enough, we've already made some changes since I took these photos!)

 Master bedroom.  That door leads to a tiny half bath 

 See what I mean?  Tiny.  But so nice to have!

Peter's Room

Bathroom

Living Room

Kitchen

 Original PINK Appliance!  love.

Basement

So there you have it!  I neglected to share the 3rd bedroom upstairs, the storage laundry room that is behind that door in the picture above, or the yard.  Because... they are disaster areas.  And it's too cold outside.  All in good time.  I've decided I'm going to use this post and its pictures to document our progress.

Homeowners.  Has a nice ring to it.

forging a path

Hi hi hi.

Oh Lexington and your beautiful black barns

I've been specifically not blogging for a while now.

You see,  I'm searching for a consistent balance in my life.  I've been a mom for about eleven months now and I've been all over the place with that desire for balance.  It seems as though I can only tip the scale heavy to one side every time I attempt what I've decided was missing the week before.  It's tough being your own boss at home with your employer (my baby) demanding every second of your head space and time.

It's getting better all the time.  Especially now that sleep training is complete and I'm sleeping again.  Turns out that major imbalance on the scale was called "sleep deprivation." It seems so simple, but it's been a major challenge for me.  I could go into massive detail about this, but I'm not going to.

I love being a mom.  I love watching this boy grow and change every minute.  And he really does!  He's constantly going at life.  Taking everything in all the time, figuring it out, and moving on to the next thing.  He's all smiles.  He gives me voluntary kisses and hugs.  Man, I don't think anyone could have expressed to me how incredible those would be.  What a lift!  Motherhood is everything I hoped and a whole lot of hard I couldn't have imagined.  But I suppose anything truly worth anything in life requires hard work and sacrifice.

I don't know what I'm saying.  Maybe that's why I've quit blogging.  No.  That's not it.  My point is, I'm attempting to forge a new path right now.  I feel I have a chance to use my time better, because more than any other time in my life, my schedule is in my power.  I don't know if I'm ready to add blogging to that just yet.  But perhaps in the future.  It is in me to write.  And I do love to share.

But until then... this space will probably stay pretty quiet.

glass trees

I wish I could have captured it.

We've been trapped (or so it feels) in a winter globe.  It's cold.  It's snowy.  It's gloomy.  Kentucky produces what is called "freezing rain," a thing I didn't quite understand being from dry Utah and it's powdery winters.  It's rain that's not quite snow but is cold enough to ice everything over.  Everything over.  Every branch, blade of grass, bush, etcetera is coated with ice.  It can be scary because the weight of it on the trees causes big branches to break, sometimes falling onto power lines.   Many in KY are still without power.  And of course, the ice makes traveling pretty nerve racking as well.

But man, is it beautiful.

Peter and I hadn't ventured out.  I succumbed to my annual blues this week compliments of the dregs of January and continuation of winter from February.  We've watched a lot of Netflix.  Taken a lot of naps.  Forced ourselves to not make batches of cookies to consume and settled on a handful of chocolate chips here and there.  I forget what its like, these winter blues.  Every year it hits me like a wave and I have that sick nostalgia of a gloom that is strictly seasonal but feels pretty real.  I know it'll pass and so I don't worry.

This being at home thing all the time is new to me though and I feel a little more powerless to fight against the gloom.  So when the sun came out (even though the temperature didn't join up with it) I decided we needed to take advantage and get out.  For not anything special, even.  I just went to Trader Joe's.  But as soon as I was out my breath was taken.  The ice didn't budge from it's coating, even with the sun come out, and the combination was a scene I won't forget.  The sun instead reflected off that ice making everything gleam and shine like glass.  Can you picture it?  Imagine turning on to a road coming out of our neighborhood lined with maples.  Three rows, the sides and the median, of these full and beautiful trees, go all the way down the road.  This uniformal tree-lined street shows off the best of each season.  But the scene that day just may have taken the cake.  I drove onto a hall of glass trees, sparkling in the sun, with a soft blue-skied background to show it off.  Surely this is something one can only imagine.

It reminded me that even though everything appears gloomy and uninviting, even a little light can turn it into a beautiful scene beyond what you could have hoped.

perspective and choice, sash.

perspective and choice.