I wanted to write something nice, so I thought of nice moments. I thought of the moment when I climbed the desert hill with Trenton and sat in the weeds and talked about love. I thought of the way the a-frame house on the sea sweetened in the late afternoon, the way rich sunlight poured through the windows like honey onto the wooden floors. I thought of driving through Idaho, hot summer air and dust and a foreverness of country. The music and the company, the way I tucked my feet up and rested my chin on my bare knee.

I thought of good meals, a good lunch, of watching my mother smother a piece of wheat toast with almond butter and layer slices of browning bananas on top. I thought of Maine, of lobster and butter and corn, of raincoats and rocky coastline and the smell of clams heavy in the salty air. I thought of Christmas cider.

I thought of riding my bike through Boston on a Saturday morning, of gardens and streetlights and traffic, of creme filled donuts and cobblestone alleys. I thought of card games, of wooden tables and furrowed brows, thinking faces. I thought of the ranch house at Bear Lake and riding in the back of the blue truck, sunburned noses and jean shorts.

Nice moments, quiet happiness, plain and good. Similar perhaps to the moment now, sitting in my apartment with my feet up and fingers at work, an easy wind coming through my open windows, carrying the sounds of outdoors. Birds and cars, lawn care and conversation. There are papayas ripening in the basket on the counter and our dishes are clean. My husband will walk in the door soon and kiss me on the cheek or mouth and ask “what we should make for lunch?”. A cheese quesadilla maybe, or French toast. It doesn’t matter.

on a bright afternoon during our trip to washington, trenton's parents joined us at the river for bicycle riding, paddle boarding and good pizza. we sat on a dock with our toes in cold water, talking about plans and watching seagulls. time and boats passed, and i wished for a moment that everything could stay the same, that we could bottle up the day and keep it for when life gets hard and we are apart.

i've begun a love affair with the pacific northwest. raspberries for sale, a hand painted sign as we break through the thick forest into an open stretch of farmland. the air is chilly and smells like wood and rain and authentic living. at the coast, in cold sand, i hold a steamed milk--vanilla almond--tight between my palms. the sky is grey and bright, the green is very green.

 

my good mama, in the green haven behind her mother's house

 

photos of my grandmother, ann alice smith nebeker, during the early years of her life. while her death overwhelmed me with a sad, desperate feeling of loss--a strange new loneliness, i feel a sweet confidence that she has left the care of her children and grandchildren and entered the loving arms of her father, mother, husband and good friends that have anxiously awaited her arrival in god's kingdom. after years as the matriarch of our growing family, caring for and serving others ceaselessly, she will rest in the tender care of her parents--their little girl, and her husband--his beautiful bride.

 

lindsay
hero, mentor, friend, sister

last batch of photos from our bear lake dream. dusty afternoons, the blue ford, a wind blown fire. most importantly, the warm energy that accumulates when we are together--mother, father, sisters, brothers, husbands, wives. the love--thick and tangible--that surfaces and seeps into the air, the food, the water, our skin, our hair.

sisters and blackberries and peaches and mangos and whipped cream and bear lake, all of my favorite things.

bear lake sunshine, bear lake happiness

there is a cabin in the mountains that my grandfather built years ago, when my mother was small. today, it is a haven, a retreat from the heat of summer and rush of the world. during our short visit to utah, we escaped the valley and headed to the forest, wrapped ourselves in thick blankets and ate apples & cheese. together, my family, new and old, enjoyed the walls and windows of the cabin, of a place that will always be ours, always be home.

behind my parents house, a day that ended with a delicious palette of soft colors. skin, sky, mountains and wildflowers. a handsome boy that i married.