Lis Garrett has moved!!

I no longer write at this blog. All the content that is here is in the process of being edited and moved. Please visit me at Root & Sprout, a web-based resource for parents that emphasizes gentle, hands-on parenting. Root & Sprout: where kids and parents grow together. Root & Sprout accepts guest posts. Please visit Root & Sprout today to learn how you can contribute an article.

menagerie

Sitting on the back steps at dusk, after-dinner coffee warm in my hand, a slight chill and storm clouds rolling in. All is quiet.

Three bunnies, two woodpeckers, a crimson Cardinal perches regal-like on a distant branch. And there's the hummingbird, flitting and fluttering among the Finches. Squirrels and chipmunks feast on breadcrumbs. Strangers, they are not; I know them well.

A spotted fawn leaps through the brush, and I hold my breath. Be still, so still.

A menagerie.

in which i cannot think of a clever title

The other day I was tending my garden when it occurred to me that, my goodness!, I'll be thirty this year. The big 3-0. Where did the last decade go, the years when I was but standing on the cusp of motherhood, children yet a daydream? What happened to their days of infancy, when they were content to cuddle in my lap and lovingly stare at my face? And will the next ten years go by as quickly leaving me to wonder, again, where our lives went? Do you realize that in another ten years it's not a preschool graduation I will be attending, but a highschool graduation? I'll be thirty-nine years old. And what if I become a grandma at forty-nine? Or, gasp!, before that? Someone slow this wild ride down, 'cause I think I'm gonna vomit.

There is mischief behind those eyes, and there is bound to be excitement this summer. Yesterday was the last day of school. Hannah stepped off the bus in tears and made no attempt to shield herself from the deluge of rain falling from the sky. The final moments of second grade were made unbearable by the realization she would be leaving her teacher behind. She's of a sentimental breed, that daughter of mine.

And this one! Oh, how my heart swells with pride and emotion. He was quite overwhelmed with having to perform with his classmates in front of parents and grandparents, and therefore he was a stoic little man. This photo captures the moments directly following his teacher's attempts to manually position his lips into a smile. And when the audience clapped and chuckled, I spied just a hint of a cheeky little smirk. He's holding a memory book, a personalized chronicle of Jacob's year at preschool. I would be sad of our leaving, but for the fact that I have one more to usher through, as well. I marvel at how Jacob has blossomed during the past year. I am reluctant to tell others of his ADD and autistic tendencies, because I want them to see him as the wonderful and quirky guy he is.

And what can I say about this one, except: Don't stare at this picture for too long, or my head begins to look abnormally large.

the calm before the storm

Nothing provokes the fury of a thunderstorm quite like a basket of freshly washed linens hung out on the line.

A far-off rumble of thunder betrays the quiet calm of a cool, sunny day. To the west, darkening skies. To the east, a convergence of black and blue. The birds chirp and twitter in a nervous sort of way; the rabbits and deer sniff the air, sensing an oncoming storm, then scatter for shelter with the first drops of rain.

I stop and survey the skies and feel an exhilaration rush through my body as I am transported back to life in the midwest. This is it, I think. My body remembers the eery quiet all too well, the calm before the storm. Thunder, a flash of lightning.

Come inside, mom!

Her sweet voice pulls me from my memories of those hot, Kansas months riddled with intense summer storms. I hurriedly remove the clothes from the line as the rain begins to bear down. The wind increases, and it reverberates through the trees like a mother frantically trying to calm her crying baby.

shhh shhh shhh

My children entangle themselves in my protective embrace, veterans of blizzards yet inexperienced with duck and cover.

I turn on the news and see the bright-red indication of the main attraction. South East Ithaca. Slaterville Springs. Caroline. Rt. 79. We are in the storm's direct path.

Get in the basement. Now. I say calmly, yet with a firm authority that commands immediate attention.

For the next fifteen minutes, we listen to the rain lash against the windows. One inquires about the location of the twister; the other needs reassurance that should both her parents die in this storm, she and her siblings will go to a good family; the youngest is oblivious and content to play with dollies.

And then it is over, almost as quickly as it begins.

Tears are wiped away.

The weatherman says it's okay to play outside again.

Such is the first day of summer . . .


**We found ourselves in the basement earlier this afternoon due to a strong storm cell moving directly over the area we call home. Although there were tornado sightings not too far from here, the storm had thankfully lost it's intensity as it continued to pass through.**

Wordless Wedneday ~ Garden Lettuce

Please click here to be directed to the main page. You can then peruse my profundities . . .

it's a good thing I don't wear lipstick anyway

This is what happens when you ignore your motherly instincts in favor of reading someone's blog . It's a good thing I don't wear lipstick anyway.

Wordless Wednesday ~ The Sweetest Thing

you should have tasted it . . .

Click here to be directed to my main page.