Stills: A Weekly Collection // Today

This week has been breathless, a mixed source of so many joys and sorrows.  It's hard to explain, but I do assure you that I've been off of the internet for the past two days, and in the in-between have only got the one chapter of my Harry Potter book club assignment read.  Thanks to Headmistress Jenna for picking up the slack and smoothing over my absence!  Looking forward to four days off in a row this week.

So let me play catch-up with two linkys.

First, the weekly stills, with Emily at The Beetle Shack.

1.  My sister's choir partner was absent this week, so she pleaded with me to join her up in the loft so she didn't have to cantor alone.  Fortunatly, the wild man slept most of the Mass, and was quiet for the rest.  Here he is ascending the stairs with renewed energy after his afternoon nap.

2.  Playing on the porch.

3.  The horizontal surface syndrome.

4.  Red crayon scrawling on the rug and the run-down toy tractor . . . interior decorating complete.

5.  Saint Joseph's kind and watchful gaze.

6.  Lawn chair in the scraggly, parched lawn.

7.  Saint Gabriel (I think?) holds a tiny jar of holy water at the entrance to the stairs ascending to the choir loft.

8.  Hand-in-mouth.

9.  Summer rose.

Second, Today with Masha at Piekno.

Today I am . . .

Feeling . . . reflective.  There is lots to think about: looking behind on how far we've come and what has changed and looking ahead to new choices and new locations.  Intimidating, but I'm happy to be able to examine them carefully.

Seeing . . . that pure bright sun like tempered gold.  It's a different color in the midst of summer, or somehow the temperature of it affects how the eye perceives it.

Smelling . . . roses.  They were sampling ravioli at the store a few days ago and giving away a rose to anyone who bought a package with the dollar-off coupon.  The woman gave me two.  c:

Tasting . . . Coca-Cola, a guilty indulgence.  I don't buy them as a rule, but with my husband back in town, my resolve has been tested and found lacking.

Listening . . . to my son's shivering whines.  He's a sleepy boy but hates being put down.

Grateful . . . for morning walks with my son.  We walk the city trail shortly after waking, good-morninged by cheerful passers-by and intruding on the congress of cardinals--they must be young ones because they're not yet in pairs.

Reading . . . And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie.  Actually, we stayed with my sister last night while my parents were away, and she has been reading it, so I had her read it aloud to me as we fell asleep.

Hoping . . . for some heavenly direction.