The sun rose earlier than I this morning, as she has for many weeks now, dancing through my open window in calm, warm snipets of promise, blowing between the poplar branches.
Realizing I had missed watching the sun yawn over the tree tops outside my window, I wished I could hold every fleeting minute of the morning’s promise that I had missed. Cradle them like delicate, warm, farm-fresh eggs in my hands.
These spring days offer pledges, after all, of numerous, irresistible possibilities that beg to be noticed.
I was so thankful that this morning was our last day of formal book work for the school year. We would have more time for clearing future horse pastures, kayaking on the lake, building up a daughter’s business, refinishing more floors, playing in the dirt, assembling ATC art kits for a local children’s hospital, and watching the day’s clouds change shapes.
My youngest was eager for summer as well. The minute after she finished her science test, but before diving into the long list of all she had to complete today, she grabbed her Nikon, plopped herself right in front of me on the sun-streaked wide-planked pine floors, and announced, “Everything’s changing. It won’t be the same tomorrow! Please?”
I’d already noticed how yesterday’s green lilac buds were today’s purple spheres of assurance.
Yesterday’s small-budded trees of the woods were today’s dotted light-green tent encircling the yard.
And yesterday’s curly-haired kindergartener who loved kittens and ballet was today’s rising sophmore Mechanical Engineering student returning home tonight for a few weeks (before heading off to an internship in Boston that would certainly not include kittens or a ballet, but maybe mallards and Fenway).
So I said “yes” to the photographer. And in less than another handful of fleeting, spring minutes, she produced an abundance of beauty. Details I had not seen until she showed me, through her lens.
Turned out there were other surprises in our day… a stray dog, a neighbor’s call, an inspiration for her next blog post that had to be typed up while the muse struck, and unexpected stable time for her sister…
And soon softball beaconed the photographer, who is also a lover of a twelve-inch, yellow ball of joy.
So our last day of formal book work didn’t wind up entailing much book work at all. But there’ll be time to finish her History project next week. Today’s minutes will soon be memories dancing through my open window. I will try to hold these delicate, warm snipets of moments with gratitude. But I will not count them before they hatch, because I am well aware that I have an overflowing basketful.
For now–as my slipper-clad 12-year-old announced this morning, on our pine plank floors–“Everything’s changing.” Today’s camera-carrying, bat-wielding young lady is tomorrow’s colorful promise, and if I encourage her to fill today’s minutes with passion, together we impact the hours of her future.
Most of the photography in this blog post is Hayley’s handiwork. If you’d like to see what my Nikon-carrying, fast-pitch softball pitcher is photographing and blogging about today, she’d love it if you stop by her little corner of the internet at Flourishing By Restful Falls. Specifically, you may like to read the 20 Reasons Why She Loves Homeschooling.