both hands

For some reason, it seems like everyone I know is tired lately. What's up with that? Is it the change of seasons? The pollen in the air? All I know is we're all acting like we're about ninety years old - everyone from my kids to their teachers to our neighbors... Maybe it's not necessarily a bad thing, though. Maybe we're gathering our energy and strength for the months to come - months that are shaping up for my family to be full of baseball games and barbecues, horseback rides and hikes, visits with family and friends scattered far and wide...and let's not forget home improvement projects (which promise to be ongoing, possibly for years). But it's okay. There's not much I'd trade for our little house on our little acre, especially now that the spring bulbs are sprouting up along with the red hot pokers and new buffalo grass.

I was blessed with an awesome hike with some cool chicks down in Sedona last weekend. We did the Brin's Mesa trail, which involved a drive in to the trailhead that was shockingly reminiscent of the Indiana Jones thrill ride at Disneyland. I didn't feel like schlepping my camera along this time (which I, of course, regretted as soon as we set foot on the lovely trail and were immersed in all that wildness). The halfway point is an outcropping that affords a 360 degree view of Sedona's famed Red Rocks. Vortices and rock cairns abound, as do cacti and some surprisingly lush greenery - even a creek or two to cross. We ate lunch, sunned like lizards on the mesa for a while, and then headed back toward home, stopping at a Sedona watering hole on the way. Oh, we got some yard sales in as well. All in all, a lovely day spent with the girls.

What else? Oh, yeah. Wanna laugh and cry? See Young at Heart. I added it to my NetFlix queue on a whim, and I was so glad I did. Never seen anything else quite like it. Reminds me a bit of what Eddie V. has to say in one of my favorite Pearl Jam songs.

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it's here, it's here, it's here, it's here....

It's finally HERE!!!!

Tonight marks the beginning of spring! The season of new life and rebirth! The moment when the day and the night are equal in length (if I'm understanding the definition of equinox, that is - feel free to flog me if I'm not).

I've been practicing my bokeh since Wednesday:




Clearly, I have more practicing to do (it would help if I could get my foreground subjects in focus for one). But, hey, I was working without a tripod. At least it's a start, and I think I have the basic idea down.

This morning a dear friend from my son's toddler/pre-school playgroup days came by with her kids, and we spent a few hours catching up, marvelling at what the passage of time does to the relative size of young'uns and walking the property to scope out the best place for me to start some raised beds. And tonight we will be celebrating the beginning of spring here at Casa AWAAR by reinstating our nightly, pre-bedtime porch time. So, if you're anywhere within a hundred mile radius of the San Francisco Peaks (with their rapidly melting snow blankie) come join us on the porch swing. It's like Grandma's feather bed John Denver sang about in that it holds more folks than it looks like it might.

Viva the Vernal Equinox!!Follow @nicole_mcinnes

the return of rhythm

I was going to write a post called "Goosed" a few weeks ago. It was going to describe my experience of standing at the horses' water trough as it filled and hearing a far-off sound that was almost foreign but not quite. The sound tripped some ancient sensor in my brain, which suddenly started going through all the accumulated audio files, trying to place it.

Finally, I looked out into the sky above the prairie and spotted the source: one lone goose, the first I'd seen since this time last year, headed toward the bird sanctuary next to our house. He was flapping and honking, honking and flapping, as if to say (warning: shameless anthropomorphizing ahead), "I'm here! I'm here! I'm here." (Or, "I just flew in from Mexico, and boy are my arms tired.") His honk sounded like someone opening a big, rusty metal door over and over again, and it was a glorious sound. It was the kind of sound that made me want to honk right back at him or maybe start dancing in place. It was the sound of nature's orchestra getting ready to warm up the instruments.

The music hasn't begun in full yet, but activity in that orchestra pit is heating up. After our brutal winter in which all music and rhythm seemed to be pummelled and then buried under icy sludge, I'm almost getting used to the sound of birds calling to each other first thing in the morning; The sight of green grass clumps here and there on the property no longer startles me; My crocus leaves poked through the ground last week, and I spent a few hours yesterday with a couple of little girls - spring's sparkling, unencumbered poster children - planting some late, pink tulip bulbs and gathering eggs from the coop (eggs which made a great snack when we came back inside and cooked them up).

There's no way to capture this fleeting return of the rebirth season really, no way to preserve it in Mason jars or on film as the commercials would have us believe. I guess the best I can do is give it a shout out. So, "Yo! Spring! Good to see ya back!"Follow @nicole_mcinnes