Growing in Grandma's Garden

Today after a morning swim in my parent’s pool, James wanted nothing more than to sink his hands into the soil with his grandma’s gardening spade. Since the sun had warmed up the cement I stripped him down to his Huggies and allowed him to do some serious dabbling in the dirt.

I’d be lying if I said looking through a camera lens doesn’t make me more lax ...And, it’s much easier to let James make a mess at my mom’s than at my own abode. But it seems like from the second I get less stressed by to-do lists and muddy hands, moments in motherhood get much more magical... Case in point, along came a tortoise, two hares... and a toddler taking his first steps.

As I sat in the sun watching my son, the story of the secret garden came to mind. When we first moved in, the courtyard looked like a desolate dessert, with a few dead trees and piles of leaves. My mom has turned this spot into a beautiful sanctuary by the sweat of her brow.

So many rites of passage have taken place along this plot...birthday parties, barbeques, sleepovers, our wedding reception, and now James’s first steps will be added to the list. There are so many life lessons that can be surmised from soil, seedlings, and sun... and how through each season we mature in more ways than one... But in the spirit of keeping this lighthearted, I will go ahead and leave you with a quick glimpse of a Gregory... growing is his Grandma’s garden...

John just said my writing style has changed lately and become a lot more serious. I think taking so many photos has put me into somewhat of a philosophical phase. Worldly cares seem to dissipate and creatures, kiddos, and color take full center. Then I try to put into words what I am feeling and I fall short. But I guess that is what posting is all about for me... practicing with pictures and playing with words to express my passion for life. And, hopefully someday I will get it right.

When I was little, I used to piece together petunias and pansies. I would give them to my mom and she would tell me I must have been on the flower creating committee in heaven...

...If that's true, I hope that I will be put back in the floral department when I die...because I know I could be completely content pushing petals all day.

When a cloud came and James started to cry I carried his dirt-caked tushy into the kitchen for some serious scrubbing. A kitchen that has as many memories as the courtyard and a recently posted about maroon couch... but will have to be reminisced and blogged about another day... Because my growing baby won’t be able to fit in a stainless steel sink much longer...

And this must have been what they meant when they decided on this detergent's name... because a sink full of dirty dishes doesn't quite do it for me.

...And he napped happily for a whole hour after:)!