It's where my husband got his first 2 brother labs and where they met their sister and their cousin. Oh the love. Oh the messes.
And oh...the memories...
My daughter became a mother in this season, and then a mother again, and a mother again. Three boys, two years apart. More of their babies went to heaven than were born on earth, and that season was long and hard on them, but the time she and I got to spend together in that home with those babies. So precious. The most most precious of things.
It's where my son brought me baby turkey's for a house warming gift and where he'd jump and hang from the rafters in the den. It's where he made a new creek with his father. They turned it into a babbling brook. It's where he swam with dogs on his back in the pool, and where he climbed to the top of the windmill to fix it.
It's where a fiery redhead read books on the back porch, let baby lizards trek up her arms and took black and white photos on a walk. Its where she pulled wagons full of apples from the orchard to the porch. It's where she became an aunt, and cut all her nephews hair.
My first Christmas in that house I went crazy. I love Christmas and decorating for Christmas, and I now had a home that begged me. So... I had a tree in almost every room. Candles in every window.
It's where, for our anniversary one year, our children bought us a gift of a grafted peach tree with three different kinds of peaches. I smile when I think about it because it's just like our children. Each one different. And I got so excited the first year it peached. We had to leave that tree in the yard when we left California for Georgia, but when I picture it, and I do, it's full.
I see our strong-willed first born sassy Mama teacher peaches growing plump and beautiful on one branch. Next to that one, is our son's. Ever so charming and coordinated, his peaches are probably hanging upside down and tempting the picker with everything smart and Disney.
And on the third branch, our fiery haird baby's peaches. They are one with the tree. In total communion with the roots and the trunk. Standing tall. Shining in the sun. Her fruit refracts the light differently.
And then I picture the pickers. They cone to harvest, but pause at the first branch. Pulled by the strength and sureness of the beautiful peach. They touch it, knowing what it is. Then the charm of the second branch pulls them with a force they can't deny.
The grafted peach tree Anniversary gift from our 3 children. 3 different kinds of peaches. Just like them.
Decorating for Christmas with trees in almost every room.
Spring bringing new life and promise with blooms on the fruit trees and berry bushes.
Sisters and brothers, nieces and nephews, very special friends, our memories.
The family cherry pickers, and the pies that came after.
Mother daughter Christmas parties. Baby showers, Easter feasts, Super bowl parties and Weddings. Oh...the weddings.
The baby boys, the rocking, the lullabies, the cuddles, the kisses, the cries the laughter.
The races around the house to tire them out, and the three brother baths that had me laughing until I cried.
The Papa who would take the three clean pajamaed boys and settle them in for snuggles and a movie while I took a break.
The playing and jumping in piles of golden leaves.
The new Puppy brothers, their Puppy cousin, and our girl Onyx who let them know whose house they were at.
Dirt box and sandbox garden time.
My first grandson. My best buddy for 2 years before his brother arrived. He is the one who named me, and he moved right into my heart. The amount of photographs I have of him is a bit embarrassing.
The boy who ran and got all the ripe strawberries from the garden before he even came into the house. This is also the one who I followed to the pond every time he went that direction because I knew he would fall in, He did, He was the only one. This one also climbed so high up a tree that it scared me, and Papa wasn't home. And he always picked flowers for his mother.
The third baby boy. He's what made Paul see how God was redeeming his life. And I was so in love with this ones chubby hands and feet that I thought I might die from it.
Dinosaur books, and Mater and Elmo and Lightning McQueen.
Swords and shields and warriors.
Long walks and Rhino rides. My forever favorite Rhino rides with a picnic and my Man. our favorite dates.
Little hands dripping with creek water held up in front of eyes of wonder, as they show me the shiny treasures inside.
Three seasons of singing and swinging with baby boys on a porch in the back by the pond.
Tummies that ache from too too many pears.
Chins stained and dripping with juice from blackberries.
My miracle Sweet peas.
My baby cows.
Sunsets and sunrises and nights with more stars than I knew existed.
Bike rides on country roads.
Summer picnics on a blue blanket in grass with goldfish crackers on white plates.
A daughter who laughs and cries and prays and waits
The trips to feed the ducks in Bishop and the time Reed found a Duck egg.
The amazing find of three dinosaur eggs in our yard and then an evening around then table excavating the baby dinos.
The stunning winter snows.
The sleepovers, the books, and the bedtime stories.
And a husband...who never stops...just makes it all beautiful for us.
Mountains and sunsets. Morning light and promise.
Goodness, and God, and Glory
I plant memorial stones in this messy place. Deep deep in my heart.
I know. I will never forget. I will always remember.
Life and death and truth and love. And the greatest of these...
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