all in a day

We headed outside early this morning, and A. led us straight to this fort in the woods. "Come to my ice cream stand." He called. He had mango and strawberry to choose from. I asked if they had any mint, but no, someone ate that one up.I ordered a strawberry cone, and a small mango one for baby D. "Three hundred dollars, please." I give him my money, he gives me back money and change. "But don't eat the change," he reminds me helpfully.

We head over to the raspberry patch. Everyone has planted new canes this year (a row for each family on the property,) and ours need a good soak after all this sun. We spend a long time with the hose playing with the "waterfalls," but I am worried about how little of the water is sinking into the soil. We load up straw in the wheelbarrow and work together to mulch the canes. I try to take a picture of myself pushing the loaded wheelbarrow with D. in the sling, but I don't quite pull it off.

We work together for a good long time with A. busy with his own wheelbarrow, until it is clear from the fussing that D. needs his nap. After a nurse in the sling I pop him in the chariot and A. grabs his bike and we head down the driveway.And to the "property creek" a little seasonal stream that we visit almost daily. A. collects things in his bucket for throwing in the water. The bucket is full of rocks and leaves and bark and sticks by the time we arrive. I park the stroller in the shade and A busies himself with creek play- throwing and splashing and playing in the mud and making up songs about throwing and splashing and playing in the mud.

Sitting on the bank I try to remember the story I made up for A last year when the creek dried up. He was so disappointed and confused by its disappearance. I remember being please with the story, that it explained things to him without being too heady, and described the natural phenomenon in the way Enki nature stories are meant to. I can't remember all the details, but I think I could manage a passable facsimile, and I'll need to soon, as this creek is drying up fast.

I make lunch when we get home. D. wakes up and is cheery. I start some supper prep and A. helps for awhile. I am making french bread for supper from refrigerated dough that I mixed up yesterday. A. rolls his dough into a sticky blob on the counter while I shape the bread beside him. He gets tired of "cooking" and wants to go back outside and agrees to stay in the yard or garden where I can see him. Baby D is happy playing on the floor beside me.

After awhile I meet A. outside with popsicles. We talk about the dance concert he is going to attend with his Dedo this weekend. He wants to know about the theatre, where it is, if it has curtains that open and close, if the dancers will be wearing costumes.

We head inside for quiet time when the popsicles are done. These days A. will take some time by himself at this time of the day without a fight, which is a relief. I put on his quiet time CD and he brings in some toys and books and lays on his bed while I put D. down for a nap. There is quiet in the house for a short time and I relish every moment of it.

There is more outside time in the afternoon. A. comes in with a tiny asparagus -one of only three we've seen this year- and I swallow my frustration at it being picked too early and direct him towards the chives. After bringing in a basket full he asks if I can set up the CD player on the deck for him to listen to music while he eats a snack. He does this and I get the rest of supper ready. He is there when Papa P. gets home with our organic grocery box. We assemble a salad and sit down to eat the yummiest roasted veggie sandwiches of all time. A. is too tired too eat much, but we'll try this supper again because it was so good.

And then there is bath and bedtime and some time to chat with my husband in the evening. And staying up too late on the computer. And grumbling that the house gets so out of control on these days of being outside so much. And looking through the photos from the day, feeling thankful for this life we are living, wanting to record a bit here to remember later on.