Sometimes, life serves up moments that are, indeed, perfect. Pristine. Not perfect days, mind you. Just a moment here and there that fills me and leaves me feeling lit from within. This weekend the kids and I headed north to my cousin’s farm for ice skating on the pond. I now have a treasure chest full of luminescent memories. We all love being there. I stop about every 20 minutes and say, “Can you believe how breathtaking this all is?” This weekend was no different. The mountain, the animals, the baby goat, family, sunsets and ice skating.
(The moments that occurred before and after these photos:
Sweating in the sporting goods store because I’m dressed for the frigid 10 degrees outside, searching for used skates for Abby and me, frustration percolating in my chest because I’m hot and we’d tried on 20 pairs of skates and I’m just ready to get on the road already.
We finally have ice-skate success and get on the road when Abby has to go to the bathroom 22 minutes after we just went.
Henry saying that yes he’d watch Ratatouille on the trusty minivan DVD player and then, with Sybil-like efficiency, deciding half-way through that no, in fact, he did NOT agree to watch Ratatouille. Abby getting really, really torqued with Henry and a blowup ensues.
A big, red underground pimple nestled between my wrinkles.
A sinus infection.)
As if I need a reminder that life is not Rockwellian. Uh, No. But, sometimes, the moments in-between are pretty darn close.
Path to the barn after skating (it was time to make the chicken dumpling stew).
The kids ice skating.
View of the barn from the frozen pond, decorated with our ice skate’s patterns.
Frozen me. (Still thawing, two days later.)
Sweet barn mate, Cantante.
“Instructions for living a life.
Tell about it.”
– Mary Oliver