Photo Journal | 365 | some people think I'm an advocate of Lucifer, some say I'm a child of God; some people think I've got the nine lives of a cat, others say I'm filthy as a dog

058/365 - Monday 28 December 2015 | I wrote in my last post that the end of Christmas always makes me a little sad, but maybe always was the wrong word to use. The truth is that this year, I'm more relieved than wistful, ready to put away the decorations and get on with my life, excited about the coming year.

059/365 - Tuesday 29 December 2015 | It's been raining for days, weeks, months. I can handle it. I love the rain. This old house we live in, however, well... Our big Christmas gift this year was a life-sized skeleton to sit on our front porch and dress up throughout the year. (My grandmother just gets me.) Here's Leonard grinning out from underneath an umbrella, sitting on the bench like he's waiting for a bus that will never come.

060/365 - Wednesday 30 December 2015 | As soon as I got into the car at the end of my work shift, from his car seat Mads announced, "Mommy, we go to Abbey Road!" His language is developing so quickly, it boggles the mind. My perfect little sponge, he shall be fed real chicken nuggets in a restaurant with guitars hung on the walls.

061/365 - Thursday 31 December 2015 | Rough day. Amazing day. All of the above. Stood in the same room with the original works of MC Escher, yes, but while wrestling an unruly toddler. Mads was not just a toddler today, he was a Toddler Full Force. Convened at Grandma's house, briefly, afterward and enjoyed a cup of her coffee (she always makes it strong) in the mug Grandpa used when I was growing up. Good bye, 2015, you difficult, astounding thing, you toddler of a year.

062/365 - Friday 1 January 2016 | This blurry photograph of my husband makes me so happy, because he was so happy when I took it. On New Years Day we took Mads and Ella to Monkey Joe's. I usually inform friends, new and old, that my husband, breathtaking and astonishing and worthy of knowing and loving though he is, is resolutely anti-fun. I had assumed this Monkey Joe's business would not be Wolfman's favorite hours of our day. But, ever the good dad and uncle, as soon as the toddlers had doffed their shoes, he had doffed his as well and joined them in all the bouncy structures, and he smiled while doing it. I love they way his joy surprises me sometimes. I love him when his grumpiness does not surprise me. I love him.

063/365 - Saturday 2 January 2016 | Mads and Wolfman visit me most mornings at work, with the weather being what it is lately--wet, very wet, incredibly wet, oh and now here's some cold. My menfolk drop me off at the door of my shop, and I get the store open and running. About half an hour into my work day, they grace me with their handsomeness again. Sometimes Mads will be riding in a car-shaped cart, spinning the wheel, sometimes they will have ridden the carousel or the train or a coin-operated car or two. I love seeing their good-looking faces. It is, always, the best part of my day.

064/365 - Sunday 3 January 2016, Day Off | The boys took me to Hillsborough Street. I hadn't been in years. We popped into Sugar Magnolia, once my favorite place to buy all my gypsy duds, but now-a-days disappointingly not everything-in-the-store-under-$15. We bought Mads a little Balinese tom tom drum and a handsome new shirt for Wolfman. Then, we had a sit down next door with the gooiest, messiest cookies. 

"Be Forewarned," Pentagram

#ThankfulThursday | rainy taxi

I sometimes feel that given my spiritual leanings, choosing a favorite season is like choosing a favorite child. I should not only love them all, but love them all equally. The truth, though, is that I have a spotty history with summer, not least of all because it seems like summer takes up most of the year in North Carolina. It is always summer here. Falling in love with North Carolina was a slow process--North Carolina had to wear me down (falling in love with a North Carolina boy helped, as did giving birth to a North Carolina boy). Loving North Carolina is also loving summer, or, at least, parts of it (the not-so-sweaty parts). But, I have to admit, the part of summer I love the best is the end of it; September is my kind of summer--the light is softer, the air just a touch cooler, there's a breeze, and everywhere is little signs of approaching autumn. Here we are at the very end of summer--the kids, my man, my sister, my grandma, and me. I am so grateful for Sundays in September with these, my very favorite people. I am grateful to see summer coming gracefully to a close. I am grateful for the promise of autumn.

I Am Grateful:

• for the feel of my baby's bare foot in the palm of my hand as I reach behind my car seat and hold it on the ride to work, and I'm grateful for the reminder in that act that I won't be able to do this forever, and I'll wish I did it more often when he's not so small.
• for the turtles, we count 21 in total, who swim to visit us within moments of stepping onto the wooden bridge at Crowder Park.
• that when Wolfman and I read each other's minds, it's usually either about sex or grabbing food from Cookout.
• for melted cheese.
• to be at the shop, alone, opening in the morning, with the drawers counted in time to spare when Porcupine Tree's "Rainy Taxi" begins to play on my special Happy Good Morning Pandora mix, and I imagine myself in that taxi.
• for Martigan's subscription to Highlight's Hello Magazine, and all the enjoyment he gets from it.
• for the genius who first put marshmallows in cereal.
• for the trees planted in the mall parking lot, whose leaves I watch change through the shop window while I work these days--if Bob Ross had painted parking lots, he would've painted this one.
• that Goodberry's flavor-of-the-day on the Equinox, our last Goodberry's trip of the season, is pistachio--my all-time favorite ice cream flavor--and it is amazing.

I am grateful for Ella's face in this photo and the two-seater Radio Flyer wagon Grandma found at a thrift store.

I am grateful for the Reuben sandwich at Gypsy's, after a day at the flea market and Schenck Forest with the ones I love.

"Rainy Taxi," Porcupine Tree

Photo Journal | Historic Oakwood

A few months ago we visited Historic Oakwood Cemetery with our friend, Crist. I never posted the photos, so. I have an old photo of my little brothers, Jordan and Josh, in another, smaller cemetery in Raleigh--taken when they were not much older than Mads above, on a walk with my mother, back when our relationship was different. I don't know what it is about my family, that we find ourselves in graveyards. There's a graveyard up the street from Grandma's house, and I used to roller blade there with Dusty and Sierra on the weekends. It's just one of those things.

"Njosnavelin," Sigur Ros

Photo Journal, no. 64 | Pagan Pride Days Festival

Grandma & Mads, enjoying the drum circle

Ella picked out her own clothes for the first time today--her purple tutu'ed bathing suit.

I've got a little scrap of paper tucked in my wallet with a rune drawn on it and photos of strangers wearing flower crowns and antlers on my memory card.  Once again, with the Autumn Equinox came the Pagan Pride Festival out at the fair grounds.  Each year it gets a little bigger and a little better attended and better organized, it seems to me.  This year, we brought two new participants ourselves (well, three if you include my sister's husband, The Kid, allergic though he is to any kind of earnestness).  Mads' and Ella's favorite part, other than the big, friendly dogs up for adoption, was the drum circle.  I'd never seen either of them so chill for so long, so perfectly content to just sit and marinate.  We'll be back next year for more drumming.

"What a little hayseed," says Grandma.

As we were saying goodbye and finding our car in the parking lot, we could still hear the drumming and Wolfman did the goofiest thing I've ever seen him do--a little dance.  I could've cried.

Photo Journal, no. 53 | Behind the Curtain

A lot has happened in the past months since diligently updating this space with photos--a lot I've let pass me by without the documentation of my camera at all, and some brief moments I have captured.  You get the gist above.  We moved, a kitten was born, there were festivals, and holidays, and a trip to the high country.  In light of my pregnancy, my interest in keeping a record has snapped back into its proper place (I am nothing if not a historian by personality and habit).  If you're out there now, you can expect more here to come.