getting older

 

Our friends get older. This one is, and sometimes it seems like she ages by the hour. We’re not certain how old she actually is, as she is a rescue kitty. But, based on estimations when we got her, she’s at least sixteen. She’s been such a good companion. Tinier than most any grown kitty you’ll meet, and lighter than a feather, she’s gentle, warm, and giving. And, she’s teaching me, in her old age, how to be the best I can for her. The days aren’t always easy, but what a friend she is. Patience, compassion, steadfastness…putting them into practice in new and different ways. I’ll take the refining process, and be ever thankful  that she stays.

dinner, 10:15 p.m.

 

Sometimes, Mom Life looks like this. At 10:15 p.m. When family activities are many, and much is packed into one evening, you get going and don’t feed yourself well, nor at a reasonable hour. Everyone else eats, albeit at different times, (and your husband asks, “You’re going to feed yourself too, right?”) But, you get going with drop offs and pick ups, errands to the likes of Target, grocery shopping, book reading, goodnight hugs & prayers. Feeding the fish. And this — a bowl of boxed, gluten free mac n’ cheese — sounds pretty much perfect on this late summer evening. I mean, it may be boxed, but it’s fresh. It’s not warmed up leftover mac n’ cheese; I made it just now. That has to count for something, right?

sunday plans

I love Sunday dreaming. I’ve been married for over twenty years, and some of my favorite times have been the quiet, dreamy weekend days when my husband and I would talk about the future of our home. Early on, in our apartment-dwelling days, we’d chat about the kind of house we’d like and where we’d like to settle down. After we moved into our first home, and fell in love with the Norman Rockwell-esque neighborhood, we would plan for small revisions — fix the porch steps, closet storage, new paint and lighting. And we stayed as long as we could before outgrowing our beloved cottage. Now that we’re in our second house, and feeling like this is where we’ll stay to raise our children, the plans tend to be larger and feel more permanent — finishing the basement, making the laundry room the office and vice versa, gutting a bathroom to build something new and lovely. So on a day like today, free of places to be and filled with summer sunshine, to sit with the man in my favorite room of the house and plan built-in bookshelves like we used to is wonderful. It reminds me of sweet days gone by, melds memories of so many past Sundays with the happy life we have today, and feeds my soul. My heart is grateful.

sometimes…

 

…sometimes, when I have a few moments of down time, I sit across from the book shelf in the piano room and wonder at the many books I’ve collected. So many I haven’t read. And I wonder when I will have the time to read them. Life is good, and life is full. (I feel like there can’t be a *but* there;  life is good and it is full —*but* would imply that life being full carries with it a negative connotation. I don’t think it does; a full life can be crazy busy, but still wonderfully good.) Taking a few moments to breathe and admire the beautiful mess that is the bookshelf, it causes me to reflect on my hours, my days, and what fills them. I wouldn’t trade the hours I spend with my children for a book, nor the moments I steal to watch and care for the birds in my yard. I wouldn’t trade the time I spend taking photographs, or watching a movie with and laughing beside my husband. I *might* trade the hours of laundry, decluttering, or dishes. But, even those tasks are filled with life and cheer, if I choose to see it. But, back to looking at the colorful bindings of the books in front of me…there’s so much I want to learn from the books, so many people I want to meet. I’m not one of those responsible book readers that respects the fact that dawn will appear bright and early every morning, no matter what time I put down my book. I just keep turning to the next page, then the next, and then suddenly it’s 2:00 a.m. Maybe it’s just the season of life that I’m in, and maybe there will be more hours for books in the years ahead. The shelves are certainly well stocked and waiting. They’ll be there.

summer morning

Summer mornings don’t get much more lovely than this. Well, by my estimation. It’s bright, sunny…the air is warm and getting warmer, but there is an incredible cool breeze. I appreciate cool breezes — warm ones make me dizzy. My children are chasing each other, laughing, through sun-filtered grass. And I am drinking the loveliest Moonlight Jasmine tea that tastes just like the scent of the fields of my childhood summers.

Not every hour in my day will be like this. Soon there will be sibling squabbles, dishes, decluttering, and more laundry. But for now, I will enjoy the summer bliss. Here I go….

a season of photos

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It’s been a very busy few months. Busy sometimes to the point of distraction, but, in general, good busy. There has been the occasional schedule mishap, forgetting something here or there, but nothing we couldn’t get past rather quickly. I’ve come to realize in recent days that I took very few photos this summer. And, in this realization, I’ve come to understand that, for me, taking photos is a form of self care. Self care is a phrase that I have had rolling around in my head this autumn, as I have been following an Instagram friend who regularly uses it as a hashtag. Her self care has included running, trips to the salon, and visiting jazz clubs in the city. I’ve been pondering how photography is an art that I love and an activity I need to be purposeful about doing. It’s everyday life for me to look at something I find beautiful and set up a shot in my mind; it comes naturally. I’m passionate about seeing and capturing the beauty around me. When I get busy, I don’t make time for taking photos, and my life begins to lack something that is important to me. A necessary outlet, a pathway for self expression. Self care. I’m thankful that I noticed the gaping hole in the photo timeline when I was looking through iPhoto earlier this autumn. It helped me realize a few things about myself that I am hoping to remedy going forward. So, this blog post is an album of some of my favorite shots taken this season. No real rhyme or reason, just favorites. I hope you enjoy them.

 

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wings

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I love butterflies. They are one of my favorite things to photograph, because most of the time there is great color to be had not only on the butterfly, but also in what surrounds them in the photo as well. They love color, and so do I. It works out. My daughter was with me when I was photographing these butterflies the other day. We chatted a little about their eating habits, as well as why some of them have frayed wings. Then we found one that had big spots, and we talked about what we remembered learning about them last year in science, and how their spots can be a defense mechanism that scares birds away. They’re so fragile, yet so resilient and remarkable.

Speaking of fragile. In twelve hours, my daughter will be leaving the house for her first-ever sleep away camp experience. She’s been counting down since Day 49. I would often hear her asking Siri how many days were left until July 6th. Sometimes Siri would oblige and help her in her countdown, and sometimes Siri thought she was asking how how many trees we had in our yard, and she would have to do the math on her own. Either way, it was very important to know how much longer she had to wait, and it always seemed like the day was never. going. to. come. It seemed like we had so many days in between then and now. But, it was really all an illusion, because, well, here it is.

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Due to other traveling plans, we had to wait until this very last day before camp to actually pack her things. I did all the laundry before our trip, ordered just the right size bags, bought sheets for camp. I was on top of the things that mattered. Printing and reprinting the packing list, then the revised packing list. She could not wait to get packing this morning. We gathered everything, spread it out on her bed, organized the kits. It was good. She desperately wanted to be the one to cross off the items on the list (maybe told me so three or so times) so I obliged.  <— That may not seem like any sort of a concession to a sane person, but to the List Maker and those that understand the obsession that is list making, it is. It’s an act of love and sacrifice. *ahem* We settled on the larger of the two new bags so she wouldn’t have any trouble repacking when things were no longer folded and were, instead, shoved into the large laundry bag that was, for now, so neatly packed into the pile. I might also add here that it is incredibly challenging for the serial over packer to minimally pack a child for camp. Especially one that has never been out of your care for five whole days before. Thank goodness they changed the snack rule, because I would have been up every night wondering if she was getting enough to eat. Her bag is well stocked. 

We piled the things, check marked the list, zipped the zippers, and moved the bags to the foyer. We felt accomplished. And she has carried on with her day, randomly giving me the countdown now in hours. But, my biggest accomplishment hasn’t come yet. Mine comes tomorrow morning when I hug her goodbye, tell her I love her, and send her off to a camp four hours from her bedroom. Four hours from the kitchen where I prepare her food and chat with her for hours in a day. Four hours from me, for five days. But, deep down, in the more settled recesses of my heart, I know the truth — this is what we do as parents. This is what we prepare them for. We help them grow, send them off on new adventures…we help them spread their wings. But the truth is, this is also me growing. In sending her off to camp, to be in the care of others for days, I am spreading my wings as well. This is new to me, as it is for her. There are fears and concerns and all sorts of “what ifs” rolling around both our heads. In my more insecure moments, I’m tempted to think that my more shaky and sad emotions surrounding this are unreasonable. That I should just listen to friends whose children have gone away to camp in years past, those that say it will all be fine, and it will all be just fine. Reasonably, I know they are right, and it’s true: she will be fine. She will have a lovely time and I will likely look back on this and smile (with a small shake of my head) at my worries. But the thing is, I don’t want to forget this season. I don’t want to forget the countdown these past 49 days and the concerns I’ve had. I don’t want to forget because, someday, dear friends of mine, whose children are younger than my own, will be facing a similar countdown and I do not want to minimize their feelings, minimize the reality of what they are going through. I don’t want to tell them that it will all be fine, because that’s not what many are looking for when they share that they’re stressed about their child going away to camp. The reality is this: Parting ways is hard. Goodbyes are hard. Longer goodbyes are harder still. Letting go is hard. 

There is a letting go when the nursing ends. There is a letting go when the baby is first left in the church nursery. There is a letting go when preschool is upon them and they drive away for those few hours that first day. There is a letting go when they stay at Grandma & Grandpa’s house for a night. And, there is a letting go in this first as well. And I have come to a good place here — a place where it is absolutely okay for me to feel the tears coming as I think about that bus driving her away, her climbing into bed at night in a cabin that is not her home, her taking care of all the things that I have worked so hard to help her learn to take of over the years. She is so ready for the responsibilities. And I have told her so. I wouldn’t have signed her up for such a trip as this if she hadn’t earned it through having gained our trust. I can’t deny her this just because it hurts my heart to let her go.

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There will always be firsts, as there have been since her birth. This is a big one for me. Maybe not for every parent, but it is for me. I will say it without shame or worry that others would think I’m being too sensitive or overreacting. I love caring for her, and she is with me so much. I will miss her company in my hours. But, we have helped her grow wings in this first decade of her life. And it is my prayer that God will protect those wings and expand them even more in this time that she is away. She is graceful in life as these butterflies are. She is vibrant and colorful and joyful. As she heads off into the new and unfamiliar, I pray that we would both remember that God is with her and He goes before her. He will care for her in this first. As He will in this first for me. May our wings prove lovelier and stronger for it. And may they be a shade of comfort for those in our lives whose “firsts” are yet to come. Because, indeed, the struggle is real and necessary and beautiful.

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cookies, fireflies, and another year

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Today, I had to make M&M cookies. I don’t do it often. But lately, I’ve been missing my mother’s cookies. In my mind’s eye, I can see and smell the ones she used to make. I needed them today.

Sometimes I’m startled by how much I miss my mother. How the pain of not having her with me any longer will come rushing in, and sometimes it’s hard for me to know exactly what brought it on. It can be something obvious — a photo glides by on my screensaver, my sister brings up an old family funny, a water tower catches my attention (we often joked that Mother should write a book about water towers and entitle it, Water Towers I Have Known; she loved them so.) Other times it takes me a bit of searching to find the trigger — a seasoning in something I’m cooking, a flower on a page in a book I’m reading to my children, the sound of someone’s voice at nearby table in a restaurant where we’re dining. Mother is always with me in one way or another. This time of year the reminiscing comes often. Though it is sudden, and often, for a few moments, painfully crushing, it’s easy to pinpoint what brings her to mind these days. Mother loved summer. She loved to sit outside under huge trees and listen to the multitude of leaves rush around above her head. And, despite her seasonal allergies, she adored the cottonwood that would float around in the sunshine at the beginning of the season. She loved the heat and humidity, and often said she could smell fireflies in the evening air on such a June evening.

I grew up loving fireflies. Still do, of course, as evidenced by the title of my blog. (*see note below) Mother used to say that I came when the fireflies came, and each year they came out for my birthday. And they are indeed out just before my birthday each year. Yesterday was the first truly hot summer day we’ve had this season. I mentioned to the children that I wouldn’t be surprised if the fireflies made their appearance in the evening. And sure enough, last night we saw the first one. We caught it, fawned over it, thanked it for finding us, and set it free. I miss my mother in those moments. I miss her when I enjoy my children’s excitement over being outside late into the night. When we sit in that encompassing warmth of a summer’s eve and look at the moon, a beautiful golden crescent with a solid bright circle around it. I miss her when we watch the families of ducks gather on a small island in the middle of the river & settle in as a family, while my family and others chat and play on the Riverwalk, a couple hours past children’s typical bath & bed time. (But, yes! stay up and stay out — enjoy these hours and making these memories that will last for always.) And, I miss my sweet mother when I pull out one of the books about the moon, from my hefty collection of picture books about the moon and the night, and read it to one of my children late on such a summer’s night.

But, in the missing her, there is a warmth and a smile. A heart smile that shows itself often in a few tiny tears that come whether I try to stop them or not. She is always with me in these remembrances, and though sometimes it hurts, I wouldn’t choose not to remember. If I was honest, many of the things that I love about myself come from her pouring into me the essence of who she was. Many of the things I love about my children come from my mother’s efforts to grow me into a kind and caring human being. And I love how creation, from the cottonwood and the humidity, to the moon and the fireflies, will always be there to remind me of her. They take me back to times I’ve loved, times gone by, to a Mother that shows up always in the memories that are dear to me, even when she is no longer here to make new ones. And I am grateful for them, even if they come packaged in tears. Because, in the choosing to remember, she is indeed as near as the warm summer breeze, the gathering ducks, or glowing moon in the night sky. As I celebrate another year of life in a couple days, I am thankful for the years behind me, the fireflies that showed up right on time, and the memories I get to treasure and pull out again and again, season after season, of the mother that gave me this life.

 

*On the subject of ‘wildfyrfly’, let me just take an aside here and clear up the reason for my choosing to misspell ‘firefly’ in my blog title. Shortly before I was born, Mother saw the name ‘Dayna’ in print in a newspaper. She loved it, and decided to give me the name when I was born. “Y” and all. It was a tricky spelling, apparently, and for reasons I don’t understand, people struggled with the pronunciation of my name my entire growing up years. I did not care for the “Y” back then, but treasure it today. Therefore, it takes a place of honor in my blog title. You will not, however, find me frequenting a car wash with the name “Kleen Kars.” It causes me to shudder and pass on by.*

 

 

mint chip ice cream

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I have a recipe to share today. Having finally concocted a mint chip ice cream recipe that I LOVE, the end of May seems a fitting time pass it along. It is free of dairy, refined sugar, corn, and gluten. Hope you enjoy it! Into summer we go!


 

Mint Chocolate Chip Ice Cream

1 can (13.5 oz) full-fat coconut milk

1 cup cashew milk (or other nut milk of choice)

4 egg yolks

10 medjool dates, pitted

2 tsp pure vanilla extract

1 and a 1/2  tsp peppermint extract

1 Tbsp gelatin

1/4 cup Enjoy Life mini chocolate chips

Place your pitted dates into a small bowl and cover them with very warm water. Pour coconut milk into a high speed blender container. Add egg yolks. Blend on lowest speed for 10-15 seconds. Your objective is to blend the cream back into the milk, as well as mix in the yolks; you do not want to overblend the egg. Once combined, pour the mixture into a medium saucepan. Heat on medium-low for 4 to 5 minutes, whisking gently, but constantly. This process will temper your eggs; you do not, however, want your eggs to scramble. After tempering, pour the mixture back into your blender container. Return to the bowl of dates and drain & discard the water. To the egg and coconut milk mixture add the cashew milk, softened dates, and vanilla and peppermint extracts. Blend on medium/high for a minute, or until the dates have been incorporated and the mixture is smooth. Chill this mixture in refrigerator for approximately two hours (it should be cold!) Return the blender to its stand. In a small bowl, pour 1/4 cup boiling water. Mix in 1 Tbsp gelatin powder, stirring very well to dissolve. Add the gelatin liquid to your chilled mixture, and blend for 30 seconds on medium. Your ice cream base is now ready! Pour into your 2-quart ice cream maker and process according to the manufacturer’s instructions. Just before removing the ice cream at the end of t’s processing cycle, pour the chocolate chips into the cylinder to mix in. Eat right away or freeze until hardened.

As always, my gentle reminder: The recipes on this blog are my own. Should you choose to use them or lightly adapt them in a post on your own website, please do me the courtesy of linking back to my original recipe on this page. The photos, as well, are mine and copyrighted as such. Thank you for respecting and honoring my work.