A girl and her dog. A front porch. Weather warm enough to make paper mache Easter baskets outside. Enjoy the rest of your weekend everyone!

If your 9 year old generally takes showers with a running commentary of the day, the future, the moment... If she normally sings songs and tells stories while showering with such vigor she can be heard all through the house... If for some reason, all of that ceases to be, and there is an unexplained silence... my 'learned the hard way' parenting advice to you would be... check on her!! Or else you may be digging out the gigantic beach towels and locating the perfect sun beam for the freshly showered pooch to lounge in.

I suspect it was the same girl who thought setting a toilet paper trap in the bathroom was just a super fun way to spend the evening...man I love 9. Keep it coming Emily, I hope the fun never ends.

Just a little corner of our home. For 108 years this door has welcomed folks to stay a while, and warmly bid them farewell. That just gets me every time I think of it. Friends and family, coming and going. The voices, clothing over the years, covered dishes brought to share, maybe a pie, a layer cake. This door, a connection between us, and them.

A local historian is currently researching the genealogy of our home, as it will be open to the public for the annual Victorian Home Tour in our town this June. (our's is a bungalow, they show this style as well, though the tour is mostly Victorian) We are excited to learn more about this house, and I will share any juicy tid bits here with you as they become available.

I knew I was home the very moment I laid eyes on this door, and I never tire of, or take for granted, being greeted by it's beauty each time I return home.

Years ago I earned a living making crafts and selling them at crafts fairs, through mail order, and private home shows. My 'craft' was different at the time, but the process was similar. Find my source of inspiration, carve out time, gather supplies, and forge ahead producing mountains of creative treasure. Back then I would cart all of my goods to whatever show I was signed up for that weekend, set up a booth, and spend the day meeting all kinds of cool people who dug all things crafty too. A pretty sweet gig, as a mother it was wonderful because my daughter could come to work with me, I made up my own rules! Life changed as it always does and I put it all on the back burner for years. Until now.

This Spring (a happy Spring Equinox to each of you) and Summer I am going to try my hand at a few shows again. I am excited about working with fabric right now and would love to share the things I've been making with anyone who would be interested. So, I'll give it a go, we'll see what happens.

I have also decided to take a ride on the Etsy train, who knows where it will take me. I figured it would be something else to try. If you clicked on that link you will notice there is nothing in the shop. This is not the grand opening, if it were, it would be a very sad one indeed. I am simply sharing what will be arriving in the shop, um, soon, i hope. If you notice (on the embarassingly basic shop page) it was actually opened in early February. So look for these beauties to arrive for your pleasure say, sometime before Labor Day. (note to self, please do not let that be true) Hope you like the selection! Enjoy this full day of Spring.

If I could breathe for you I would.

Restoring my faith in humanity.When the world hands you a  Concrete Jungle, may there at least be a way to still dig to China. When the digging gets tough, go swimming!

And then there is this little girl. Oh my, it just gets better as it goes on. I came across this last night after having a particularly challenging day. The caption defied anyone who watched it to remain funky. It certainly shifted my mental and heart space. Children always remind us of all that is possible and important in this world. Let yourself be reminded.

The photos in this post were taken over the summer at Adam's grandmother's homestead. She lives in the Green Mountains. I will post another time about the details of her life and home, it is a story worthy of more time than I have right now, this is a quick sharing. I was reminded of these photos when I awoke because the rain is coming down loud and heavy today, as it was on this day. You would all love to hear about this place, and Grandmother June, they are both truly magical.

This 'boat' was found in the carriage house when the homestead was purchased, I believe in the 1950's. The years have lost track of the number of children who have gone for a ride on this beauty. The joyful, independent spirit of those solo rides definitely remains on the land.

Work a little, play a little, enjoy yourself immensely.

"A little cooperation please!"

My reason for this post has to do with the rain, I swear I have not spiraled into a never ending vortex of nostalgia. (Thank you for all of your sweet words yesterday, today is my Mother's birthday and she will appreciate the kindness shared.) THE RAIN...my plans for today included a little skip-to-my-lu down to the post office with my first blog related shipment! As it is I should have sent them a few days ago, the buckets of rain pouring down have taken a bit of the tra-la-la out of my step, I think I'll wait and send them off tomorrow, buckets of rain I tell you! I don't think venturing off on foot today would give me the Mayberry experience I was hoping for.

This is my maternal grandmother Rose, we called her Mema. I could go on for days about this picture, it is my favorite of her. Mema has been gone for many years now, but somehow continues to be one of the greatest teachers I've ever known. I have yet to meet a person with a greater spirit than her, she could find beauty in anything, and made great effort to help others do the same. Mema was my first yoga teacher, her energy was infectious. She taught me to sit or lie a certain way and connect deeply to my breath. Mema also taught me to stand tall and have good posture by standing regularly up against a door. Please understand, this was not about looking a certain way or being lady like, there were no beauty pageant plans in Mema's sights, she just wanted me to know how good it felt to stand tall, to stand proud.

Mema was a city girl, raised in Brooklyn, New York. When I am 90 I will still recall her voice and thick, hysterical accent with perfect clarity. I'm not sure how it is possible, it's been about 20 years that she's been gone, but I remember every single thing about her. I remember how meticulous her home was. Certainly not because she was fussy, just orderly by nature. She taught me how to pack a suitcase. Did you know that if you lie clothes flat instead of folded you can bring TEN times the amount of clothing and everything is wrinkle free! Speaking of, each day Mema made her bed with such patience and skill, there would not be a chance in hell the bed making police would find a single wrinkle, from the bottom sheet to bedspread, no way! Until the grandchildren would come over and play, cuddle, rearrange pillows and hang out on this very perfect bed. She never said a word, just laughed right along with us.

Mema and Pop-pop (my grandfather, another post) would come to dinner almost every Sunday growing up. They'd arrive in the afternoon and stay until 60 Minutes was over. Sometimes she would bring Pizelles from the Italian bakery near her. We'd go for walks, she'd remind us to breathe fresh air, we would laugh and laugh and laugh. She made everything better.

I suppose this post is a little personal and maybe of little relevance to most who will read it, but every day for 20 years I have thought of her. Whenever anything changes in my life or in the world I always wish she were along for the ride, to hear her take on it all. I suppose in many ways she is. This blog for example is fairly new to me, she would so dig it, and she'd find all of you interesting, funny, and kind.

Below is Mema's button collection as it remains. I have used some in a project that I'll share at another time. They are in the prescription bottles she placed them in years ago, nestled inside this children's shoebox. The shoes went on the feet of one of her three children, the box would hold these buttons for the next 50 years. Nothing wasted, ever.

Of course if Mema were here, she wouldn't have any of the jumbled up nature of this assortment, she would see this as an opportunity to straighten, bring order and harmony. She'd say enthusiastically, with that unforgettable Brooklyn beat,   "Awww...Heather, come here, let's arrange these to make it special and nice, it'll be fun!" And certainly, straightening this box of buttons would become the most fun I'd ever had.