Fall in New England

If you don't live in New England, these photos may just make you a wee bit jealous. There is nothing like a beautiful fall day here...even if it is surrounded by 3 months of heat and humidity on one side and even more months of arctic tundra on the other. For a few short weeks -- not enough to even feel like a whole season -- it is heaven on earth here.

Circus day

Lucy and I went to the circus with Maya and her mom Sharon on Sunday. I shot a looooong wedding on Saturday so I was too burnt out to bring my camera along, but I did snap some photos out in the yard before we left!

{the big girls}

{the little girls}

Remember her?

Jeff sent me this photo today, asking if I remember her. One-day-old Phoebe! We do this sometimes...e-mail each other a favorite old photo of one of our girls. It is really sweet.

Looking at the photo, I feel that my relationship with Phoebe has not changed a whole lot in the past 2.5+ years since that photo was taken. I still hold her tight all the time and her face is basically my nose's favorite place. Still...if I really put myself in that photo I can remember the smallness of a newborn head and how a new baby smells like amniotic fluid (sounds gross, but I love it) and how its mouth makes a little round bird "o" and how its eyes, still practically blind, stare up with utter trust and not a bit of sass.

The other day, when leaving Lucy's ballet class, I asked the girls what they wanted to have for lunch. Without skipping a beat, Phoebe proposed that we sneak into her preschool, get a chicken [they have live ones], and put it on the grill. Oh yes she did say that...and need I remind you that we are vegetarians and Phoebe has never even tasted chicken? But you see, she thought this whole thing was utterly hysterical.

My sassy little girl, oh how you have grown.

Needs more orange

In high school, my art teacher's name was Sister Mary Alphonsus. She had been my mother's teacher as well...maybe not for art, but this is what they did with the older sisters...made them art teachers, music teachers (even if they were deaf -- yes, deaf), etc. when they lost the sharpness to teach English and social studies. One holdout was the awesome Sister Connie, who taught us math and made us laugh on purpose by comparing herself to the Maytag repairman when no one seemed to need help...and made us laugh not on purpose by shaking a rheumatic middle finger at us when making an important point. The other was Sister Jean, the science teacher, who made wisecracks like, "my car has 4-by-60 air conditioning...4 windows open, 60 miles per hour." Those ladies were sassier than we realized, yes they were.

At any rate, back to Alphonsus. She never let up on me...she commanded that I make endless revisions to my artwork. My mom told me that it was because I was a good artist, so she wanted to push me, and mom was right I am sure. Anyway, along with her exacting nature, Sr. Alphonsus had, well, one of the largest bosoms I had ever seen. (Think Joanie, and add a few cup sizes. ) I remember, quite distinctly, working on a sunset scene done in pastels -- revision after revision -- all the while with Sr. Alphonsus leaning over my picture and commanding me to "add more orange! more orange!" and me...sixteen year-old me...worrying all the while that my labors would be destroyed by one accidental swipe of the good sister's bounty on my page.

Why tell this story? Well, the other day I decided to get the girls some pastels to try. They loved them for the same reasons I do...blendable, forgiving and messy. They drew their little hearts out, which made me smile...as did the little voice in the back of my mind that kept on urging me to add more orange. And looking around my living room, at the orange mantle and the orange blooms on my carpet, that voice made a lot of sense.

RIP to the dearly departed Sisters of the Divine Compassion...Alphie/Fonsie, Connie, Frisky and the rest. You taught us ladies well.