feed me, seymour.

Henry is into feeding us lately. So nice that he has learned to share.

a bunch of monkies and some sunflower eaters.

Henry got up with part of his crew at the zoo this afternoon. The monkies were delightful. The pigs were feasting on flowers.

raise high the roofbeams, carpenters.

The past couple of days we had some workers come and install a new roof. It has been non-stop, incessant pounding of hammers, popping of nail guns, and dragging of shingles- which sounded more like morbidly obese dead bodies being slid from peak to eave. Henry, of course, was able to nap through it all. I don't get it- the creaking of the front door will wake him up, but this cacophony did not. It is finally quiet again; the remains of our old tiled roof removed. As if it never even happened. Except we have a new roof in place. And I really miss the old one, from an aesthetic standpoint... but I won't miss the leaks. Especially the ones above Henry's crib.

static electricity.

lull...

Greetings my dear bloggy friends. I apologize for my lack of updates recently; I've just been trying to take advantage of these last days of summer. And I couldn't not post today- as it is my one year blogiversary! That's right. Happy blogiversary to me. So hard to believe that this was me exactly one year ago:


And so amazing to think how much life can change in exactly one year's time. Henry is walking now- it is sort of surreal to see him circling around from room to room. I cannot even begin to explain through words how much joy and love that little guy has brought into our lives. Thanks, dear readers, for watching him grow along with me.

the last days of summer.

Lately we have been busy trying to ride out these last days of summer by doing... um, well- summery things. The same thing seems to happen every year around late-July. I realize that the hot months are nearly spent and that I haven't relished those ubiquitous summer activities enough before the 'back to school' ads begin bombarding us from left and right. I believe this whole 'summer thing' is possibly more a state of mind or idea, than it is an actual, palpable thing. It is a Sam Cooke song. It is fuzzy childhood memories of riding my bike around the neighborhood into the twilight with cicadas singing all around. It is fireflies, and camping, and floating lazily down a river with friends. It is that CountryTime lemonade ad- kids launching themselves off of rope swings into a creek while reeds bend in slow motion and old people sip lemonade and smile beneath jelly jar lanterns. It is a sort of myth I annually seek to obtain, a sort of old-fashioned sentiment I relish and long for. A few more weeks left to go... don't be surprised if I call some of you over to sit around a jerry-rigged rope swing next to our muddy marsh that doesn't actually swing anywhere. But will we be the kids launching off, or the old people sitting around smiling at one another?

a trip to the blueberry farm.

This morning we took a trip out to a blueberry farm with Henry's Auntie Beth. We collected buckets of the delicious fruit. Henry even helped- his little hands are quite agile, more so than I would expect from a ten-month old. The berries are so tasty- and addictive. I fear tomorrow my husband might have to roll me to a giant juicer, Violet Beauregarde style.

impromptu beach day.

Mike got the day off of work, so we headed to the ocean for an impromptu beach day. Today was Henry's first real taste of the sea- we held him at the edge and let the gentle tide pool around him and lap at his little baby toes. Each time a wave washed in to him, he would throw his head back and laugh; and every time the tide waned he would stretch his arms out as if to say "come back to me!" One of my greatest loves is the sea. Growing up I was lucky enough to have both sets of grandparents living on the beach- one set on the ocean side, the other, the bay. I believe that one of life's greatest soothing comforts is to be lulled to sleep by the sound of waves crashing aginst the shore; or to be awkened by the sound of seagulls, restless and ready to begin their day. I was told at some point that my name means "star of the sea" (hence 'starfish'). I cannot imagine ever living away from the ocean. Even if I don't get to the beach as often as I'd like, just knowing that it is there, so near, is comfort enough. Like a giant safety blanket. There is just something about living on a coast and being surrounded by water. There is just something about... living on the edge. I hope that Henry will share this love as he grows older.

another green friend.

A wee little praying mantis... we seem to spot these quite frequently in our yard lately. Aren't these supposed to bring good luck?