Back home

Gosh, I love my grandma's house. It's the one place from my childhood that is still ours and still the same, and there's just something so comforting about that. 

Our trip was full of simple magic and nostalgia. We stayed at grandma's house, ate cobbler made from fresh peaches, went to the zoo, spent quiet mornings on the porch, and Rory romped around with Ginger (the dog) and the new kitten as often as we'd let her. Ginger passed away and went home a few weeks after we left: I like to think she went home to be with grandpa when his year anniversary of being called home came. Rory still talks about Ginger often, and I still think of all that's different these days.. and hold tight to all that remains the same. 

Grandma still gardens, she still loves books and read to Rory every night, she still makes the best tortellini soup and sourdough pancakes on the planet. She still sends me home with homemade jams and cinnamon raisin bread, and she still has impeccable taste. On that note, I think every time I'm there I find a new piece of timeless furniture I love and haven't noticed before. 

We went home because i needed my people. And I needed them to know my baby. We moved when Rory was just three weeks old and with everything happening in my own family, we haven't come back for more than a few days for funerals in over a year. So these people who came to my graduations and made me dinner more times than I can count and were in the temple on my wedding day didn't know this tiny person who made me a mom. And I just couldn't live with that for another year; so I went home. 

Because I went home, I will always chuckle thinking of Rory jumping off the couch onto Uncle Ty's lap yelling "Uncle Pie!", and I will always remember bathing my baby in the claw footed tub where grandma used to bathe me, and I will remember Rory asking for weeks and weeks after (ok, she's still asking) if we could "go to California mommy". I will remember how sweetly she asked if she could help grandma put flowers on grandpa's grave in my favorite sweet little cemetery, and how much she obsessed over her cousins (especially baby Ruth: pronounced Roof). There's just something about being home that grounds me and reminds me what I actually want and who I want to be. So for today we will keep chugging along from far away grateful that there's always holidays and eternities where we get to be with all our people. If you have a chance-- (even if that chance involves 13 hours of driving by yourself with a toddler) go home.

Home for mama's birthday

I feel so lucky, because for the past 3 years I have been home for my mom's birthday!
This year, all the girls picked her wildflowers, made (also bought) breakfast, and hopped in bed with her.
We sure love this woman who was/is a wonderful mom, loves babies the most, bakes the best,
and always made our house a home.

We love you mama!
Here's to hoping we can all be together to pile in your bed next year too.

My grown up littlest sister

Last week I braved the barren sojourn to California with a baby and puppy in tow.
Most everyone thought I was crazy, but it was a fun adventure!
(one that added a few extra hours to the trip to be sure)
But it was all worth it to see my little sister graduate from high school.
I've been there for all of my siblings graduations, and it didn't disappoint.
I'll share pictures of that later, but I think a tribute to Brooke is what's in order today.
I was lucky enough to be in town a few months ago to take her senior pictures, and my goodness the girl shines.

Brooke literally doesn't care what anybody thinks. She is who she is, and there is no pretending for anybody. She begged my mom to use such tight curlers that she could wear a full afro to school when she was in elementary school.

She stayed out until well past midnight hanging out with my freshman in college dorm-mates when I couldn't because I had to write a paper. (She was twelve, and they honestly thought she was the coolest)

She slept in my bed with me every night of my senior year until I left for college after realizing that I wasn't going to live there anymore after that. (and would leave me surprises under my pillow when I spent the night somewhere else)

She cried at my wedding (#besties), but then subsequently became besties with my husband and forgot all about being sad.

She is the best baby whisperer I know aside from my mom, and that's saying something.

I love you Brooke and I'm excited to watch the next chapter of your life unfold! (And from 5 miles away. SCORE) You are beautiful and talented and smart and have way too many people that love you. We are your biggest fans.

Part 2: "my nickname is tree" and an adventure

One of my very favorite memories from my childhood is when dad took us salamander fishing. I'm sure it didn't start out as that, but we were all together out on the ranch and we came across this little spring (at least I think it was a spring) that was full of salamanders. Dad got right down in the water and caught them and let us hold them and feel their rubbery skin and I remember being so happy and full of wonder. You know the kind? That giddy excited wonder you can only feel as a kid.

Well Friday morning papa, Clara, and I hopped in the polaris for a drive (and some chores, or it just wouldn't be a ranch) We drove "reeawy fast", used my arm as a seat belt, and had a conversation about nicknames, in which I was informed that Clara's nickname is not Roser, it's Tree... a fact that I was told I could not disclose to her mother. (I was about crying)

We made a detour so Papa could show Clara a waterfall that's running right now. We hiked up to the top with Clara on Papa's shoulders, then made our way down to the pools at the bottom. And guess what we found? Salamanders! Papa hopped in with his boots on and caught one for Clara to see. She wasn't sure she wanted to hold it, but after we told her they were really nice and didn't have teeth she wasn't scared a bit and kept telling us, "salamanders are reeaawy nice".

We hiked back out along the stream and on our way we found a turtle, so I pulled off my boots and hopped in to catch him. We held him and looked and him for a minute, and he even popped his head out after a few minutes to let Clara get a good look. Then we let him back into the water (not that we wouldn't have anyways, but Clara very much insisted) and went on our way. Jay and I have said it a thousand times, but we feel so grateful and lucky to have the ranch, and parents that love our Rory (and will love our other littles too someday) and will take them on adventures that let them feel that wonder.