Wednesday, 6 December 2017

47/52



"A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2017."

Sunday, 19 November 2017

46/52



"A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2017."

I think this is the closest we're going to get to Christmas pictures with the boys together in the same shot.  It's really too bad because their Grandmama bought them matching shirts and the looked adorable!

Monday, 13 November 2017

45/52


"A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2017."

Tuesday, 7 November 2017

2nd Autumn



The maples blazed in September and mellowed by October's end.  Now the oaks and beeches herald a second autumn, before the winter takes its turn.

Sunday, 5 November 2017

44/52



"A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2017."

Afon: on Halloween we went to Bodafon farm for a family day.  He liked the tractor ride and feeding grass to the donkey.

Roan: we found a place where the trees were flush with color.  The day before that, the little boys dressed in button-downs for All Souls' Day.

Sunday, 29 October 2017

43/52



"A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2017."

Sunday, 22 October 2017

42/52



"A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2017."

This week I don't have a picture of Roan, for a change!

Tuesday, 17 October 2017

Autumn



Autumn

The leaves are falling, falling as if from far up,
as if orchards were dying high in space.
Each leaf falls as if it were motioning "no."

And tonight the heavy earth is falling
away from all other stars in the loneliness.

We're all falling. This hand here is falling.
And look at the other one. It's in them all.

And yet there is Someone, whose hands
infinitely calm, holding up all this falling.

By Rainer Maria Rilke

{Photos on Fujifilm 200 and 400, taken on a Pentax K1000.}

Saturday, 14 October 2017

41/52



"A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2017."

Wednesday, 11 October 2017

Domesticity



{Pictured: silver dollar pancakes from St. Matthew's Day.}

I don't remember where I read it, or even if I did read it. It is a thought that is knitted into my knowledge, its roots planted there without recognition.  The more we draw closer to God, the harder it is to go back to "real life."  It's a paradox and a conundrum.  I want to live in the presence of Him, and miss Him terribly when I fall away or fall short.  When I do grow close to Him, turning back to the domesticity of everyday life is a bit anti-climactic.  It is like turning back to the country table after having feasted in the castle.  The problem (which is not really a problem, except if I make it one) is that I'm an all-too cerebral soul.  I'm full of lofty ideals and good intentions.  I romanticize the ordinary, but sometimes the ordinary falls short of my romanticizing.  And that's okay.  It doesn't make it any less sacred.  This is what it means to live in a God-breathed world.

These days, I am trying to be cheerful when I turn away from my mystical inclinations toward the drudgery of dirty laundry, and wiping noses, and cleaning children who soil themselves for the second (or third) time in one day.  And I tell myself -- it is not a prayer or a hope or even a mantra -- that I serve Jesus profoundly in these tasks.  That it is, in fact, an honor greatly bestowed upon me, carefully chosen, and undeserving, to clean a disabled child who cannot use the toilet.  I know this to be truth.  And then I think about the people, about the society, who don't know this is true, and I feel grateful.

 

Sunday, 8 October 2017

40/52



"A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2017."

Taken on Kodak 400 film with Pentax k1000 camera.

Sunday, 1 October 2017

39/52



"A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2017."

Thursday, 28 September 2017

Film Summer



Wednesday, 27 September 2017

38/52



"A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2017."

Wednesday, 20 September 2017

"Christ embodies the ideal of human perfection: in Him all bias and defects are removed, and the masculine and feminine virtues are united and their weaknesses redeemed; therefore, His true followers will be progressively exalted over their natural limitations. That is why we see in holy men a tenderness and a truly maternal solicitude for the souls entrusted to them while in holy women there is manly boldness, proficiency, and determination." - Edith Stein



Tuesday, 19 September 2017

Pied Beauty



Pied Beauty
by Gerard Manley Hopkins

Glory be to God for dappled things –
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced – fold, fallow, and plough;
And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise him.

Sunday, 17 September 2017

37/52



"A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2017."

Afon: waiting patiently for his eggs at our diner.

Roan: glued to the spot, for some reason.  Eating his Jammy Dodger.

Afon has come a long incredibly in only two weeks at his new school.  He is asking for things outright instead of grunting or expecting us to intuit, which makes cooperation between us all so much smoother.  I've been able to sit down with him and sing and play hand games and tickle him, while keeping his attention!

Roan starts playgroup tomorrow, but it is not his first time on the playground.  Roan has started spitting on his cuts and booboos.  The instinct to treat wounds with saliva must be a primal one.

Monday, 11 September 2017

Something for Mary



September is here at last (probably my favorite month--but ask me again in October--and then November!) and it's time to crack down on reestablishing rhythm.  I've got the major feast days and memorials of the month pasted onto my Facebook page.  Because let's be honest, that's the surest place I'll never lose them.  We have a little bit more time to gather ourselves now that Afon is back at school; stepping outside is a like a brisk shower.  It's just bright enough, just windy enough, just chill enough to wake-you-up!  And that gave me the little spritz I needed to do something for the Nativity of Mary.

All short cuts here.  I bought ready-made frosting and an easy mix for the sponge cake.  Roan readily helped me smoosh stir the batter and add the food coloring.  We baked our cake, added globs of icing, and I prettily penned a birthday message with store-bought writing icing.  All we needed then were a few candles...



He nod-spasmed along to "Happy Birthday," we said a Hail Mary, and dug in!  Roan gave a kiss to Our Lady of Walsingham (with some prompting).  He fed her her cake as well (that was all him).