he's married.

My little brother is now a married man.

There is something in my brain that wants to rebel against this idea, even though my heart fully accepts the fact of his marriage and all the things that go with it. I suppose that it's as simple as that yes, he is my little brother, by only 18 months, but my younger sibling nonetheless. Or maybe it hit me that he is now a man, truly, at least by my own definition; living and working and striving with and for someone other than himself. He's going to be a superior husband.

When my mother was pregnant with my brother, she was careful to ward off any blooming jealousy or misgivings that I might have had. She constantly told me that this was also my baby, that she would need my help, and by doing so I think she made me feel important and excited for his arrival.

So yes, I think that's it. My baby. Or just a little anyways.

DIY tea-blending.

Though this blog is not specifically DIY or craft related, I do enjoy occasionally sharing some of the DIY's that are a regular part of my lifestyle. Blending my own tea is one of them. And while I grow the majority of my own herbs and dry them, it isn't a necessity in order to enjoy your own tea. Farmers markets and small specialty health stores now abound with dried herbs, and the end result is fresher and less expensive than what you'll find boxed at the supermarket.

I've dabbled in herbalism for a few years now, and love that I can make a custom tea to suite my current needs, whatever they are at the time. The tea pictured above is red clover, nettle, peppermint, and a bit of echinacea, which I crafted to help my family and I ward off the autumnal allergies we suffer from. But really, you can combine just about anything your heart, body, or palate desires. If you're a complete newbie to herbs in general, I would recommend reading this and slowly experimenting to find what you and your body prefer.

On another note, my brother is getting married tomorrow. I am excited beyond measure, as the woman he has chosen is incredibly dear to my heart, and truly like the sister I never had. It is, of course, going to rain, but I'm well convinced that it's going to be a magical wedding, full of warmth and whimsy. I'm just laden with butterflies--looks like I'll be making myself some calming tummy tea today. ;)

xo

summer so far.

mother's day brunch.

Had my mother over for a mother's day brunch. We ate gluten-free pancakes with yogurt, granola, maple syrup, and strawberry jam. We drank vanilla rooibos tea. She enjoyed herself immensely, which is exactly what I was aiming for.

Nov. 1

Savoring the humble things
A pumpkin-chocolate chip loaf made for my brother's birthday
Long, chilly runs in the rain (made better by new sneakers)
and wonderful, handmade gifts from a dear friend

I'd be grateful for all this
even without the recent events on the east coast
But it's made all the more acute
with so much darkness nearby

finally!

Vacation time is here! I'm off to the seaside for one week. I plan on doing tons of outdoor yoga and running, eating and then eating some more, taking long, sandy walks with my husband, and building sand-Transformers with my boy. Until then loves! <3

rescued.

I had found this picture while sorting through a bunch with my mom. I said, "Look at you, wow!" She had been goofing off before prom, apparently. But she hates her appearance so much in this photo, that she took it out of my hands and tore it up.

Before I left, I picked up the pieces when she wasn't looking, put them in my pocket.

moments.

my zen master

art

surprise

 

Although it's once again rain and gloom here in PA, we haven't been taking the occasional sunny day for granted. The shoes fly off and we head outdoors, to dig, run around, or just lay in the grass. It's a slow process, spring. Or at least you think it is until one morning you walk outside and suddenly, EVERYTHING is in full bloom.

I've been feeling a little creatively jumbled lately. There is so much I want to do: make some new skirts, embroider pretty flowers, make herbal tinctures and tonics, alter all the curtains in the house, cook healthy meals, paint with my hands, get back into making jewelry. I can't choose and find myself frozen in place more often than not. Perhaps I'm feeling the dizzying effect of spring too?

what we're left with.

My Aunt Rose died a little over a week ago. What can I say about this woman? I didn't know her as well as I probably should have. I lost touch with her in recent years, so busy I've been starting a family, decorating a home, turning myself into an adult.

My mom was able to go to her funeral (I wasn't) and bring me back little pieces of my aunt's history. She was an amazing woman: funny, lighthearted, an incredible quilter, artistic, lovable. My mom told me stories of how when she was little, it was her aunt's house that she look forward going to the most. It was there that she could blossom and thrive in ways she couldn't at home.

paperweight

I've always prided myself on not valuing material possessions overly much. I don't believe that the things around us are nearly as important as less tangible moments: a kiss from a small child, the smell of wood burning, church bells in the distance. But my viewpoint wavers a bit when I encounter objects from the past, especially when it belonged to someone I knew.

hairpins

When someone we love dies, all we're left with is the things they owned. Or pictures. Both incite memory--we smell them, we feel a weight wafting around the room, if only for a moment. And they're there--alive!--again for just a few seconds, so strongly rendered in sensation that we have to turn around to make sure our deceased isn't standing there.

unfinished quilt square

And the bittersweet sensation that runs through us as we realize--only after our loved is gone--that we shared interests, hobbies even. That if time had been a little kinder, or different, or our clocks could run backward, we could sit together, share cloth and needle and talk of vintage antiques. But we didn't know, and it never occurred to us to ask.

brooch

But this is how it goes with our elders. We get used to the idea that they're here and then--suddenly--they're not.

I'm thankful I have my believe: that death isn't the end, that we will one day look over those we've left behind. That my Aunt Rose can see me, sitting in my living room, running my fingers over these treasures,  looking them over with an expression of awe and thankfulness.

I am humbled.