Summer Daze.

I am in a summer daze. A hazy, lazy summer daze. I can't shake it off. And I really don't want to. I want these lingering days to last forever. Beach picnics at sunset and surfing into the dark hours of the day. I want to stay inside these in between days of spring and summer where the sun is shining and the breeze is cool and all I do is buck the Rules of Life.

It's here I want to lay my head and rest a while. I want to float around and get comfortably lazy with our schedules and Lists of Things To Do. I want to smile into the setting sun and thank her for yet another glorious day of life and give gratitude for the things that make the rest of it a little more palatable.

So here I will stay for a while with arms outstretched into the blue skies, laughing into the ocean winds again. Here is where I will be until the Summer turns her prickly heat on me once again.

And just like that.....

Summer is here. Just like that.

For us, it isn't marked on a calendar or a clock. It isn't measured by the moon or the sun or the tilt of the earth. It arrives the day we drop our schedules and routines for something looser and a little more free. It arrives on a Tuesday at 5:37PM, when we are tired of homework and supper routines and classes and deadlines. It happens when we throw caution to the wind and finally sigh under our breath, "Summer is here. It's finally here."

Welcome back, Summer. I can't wait to float around gently and purposeless in your wake.

The Messiness of Motherhood

In my experience, there is no other way to be a mother than to get down in the muddy pit of it all. Roll around in it. Get it all over you. You wear it - in your hair, on your clothes, on your breath - like a badge of sleep-deprived, showerless pride. 

There is no tiptoeing in the shallow end of the pool of motherhood. From day 1, being a mom is like being blasted from a cannon into the middle of icy waters with no life preserver. And there is no other way to make it to the other side other than swim like hell and hope to stay afloat.  Each day brings it's challenges. Each day you only hope to make it through.  But every day is an epic battle that you may or may not have won. 

Somewhere in navigating the mess – the tears, the smiles, the hardships, the joy, the pain, the worry and the love – it all comes together. We all somehow make it through to the other side. Perhaps we are a little more battered and bruised, but our hearts grow bigger and fuller each day with a love we could never imagine before this wild ride.

Motherhood is gritty. And hard. And confusing. From what I can see of this track, it's a wild, messy and scary ride to the bitter end. So hold on tight and buckle up. And enjoy the feeling of your stomach flipping from your feet to you throat over and over again. It's one wild ride.

Happy Mother's Day to all the mommas I know out there. The ones who made me and the ones who raised me!

(NOTE - this post was conveniently and not ironically forgotten about during Mother's Day weekend and a particularly busy week! Ooooops)

The Gift

When I need to regroup, recharge or just or restart myself on a new track during the day, I often come out here on my back deck and look at this view. I take a long, deep breath and pause to find 3 things I am grateful for so I can continue on with my day - hopefully a little lighter than when I started.

Mostly, this is an easy task. But in the past few years, I have struggled with some serious stress and hardship life decided to toss my way. It has made it excruciatingly hard to be present - particularly when your heart is not anywhere near you.

So what about those days when it IS difficult to find balance. What about those days that are hard and complicated and confusing? Or the days that are filled with angst and frustration? How do you find gratitude there? How do you look to find your happy place in those moments?

Honestly, some days I just don't. Some days I just fail miserably. And those are the worst days. But the best part is that I am trying. I always try to find the joy. It's a practice we all work hard for most days.

So I keep showing up here...on my porch. Some days, I have a tea and a smile and so much gratitude my heart could explode. Other days, I am pacing with anxiety or on the verge of tears. It's always different, just like each unique day. The point is, you have to always try. You have to keep showing up and without letting the present get away from you.

So I will keep showing up...right here on this porch. I will keep looking for the present within my heart while seeing the gift of what is real right in front of me.

Standing on the edge

We are all standing on the edge. Nobody can be certain of what's to come and take us away or what will be left at our feet. Some days, there are small treasures to be found in the tides that change before our eyes. And others, it feels like there is nothing left...that everything has been taken away in the current and swept back out to sea, leaving us empty handed and broken.

One thing I know is that the treasures will come. If you stand still long enough in the same spot, they will be deposited at your feet like gifts from the sea. If you move, you will find them if you look hard enough. But the treasures will always find you. No matter what.

Be patient. And breathe. It will all come in due time.

The edge of things

For those of you unfamiliar with pluff mud, it's been described as "the slippery, shiny brown-gray, sucky mud, with a distinctive smell like none other, of the tidal flats and spartina grass salt marshes.  Unpredictable in its sucking power, when you step in it, you could sink up to your ankles, or up to your knees, or even to your hips.  And if you sink up to your knees, you can pull yourself out, but do not plan on retrieving necessarily your shoes unless they are tightly laced."

Pluff mud is designed to trap you...suck you in and not let go. It's what borders us from the solid ground we are confident from which we safely stand and the fluid waters that will whisk us swiftly away from everything safe and secure and known. If you think too much, you'll get stuck there. You will be left trapped in the in-between, struggling to free yourself from a losing battle of man vs. mud.

Like any difficult edge, pluff mud is tricky to navigate. And it's always deeper and wider than you expect it to be. The struggle seems deeper when you have sunk hip deep in the sticky, silty, sucky mess. But you can get out. There is a way. You just have to make a choice. You can crawl back to the safe, dry land or float out to the unpredictable currents of water that can whisk you away to new places...parts undiscovered by your soul.

The choice is yours.

Country Roads

Steamboat Landing Road, Edisto Island

"Country roads, take me home to the place I belong..."
John Denver

Every once in a while, I grab a camera and set out for a spot I have never seen before. It seems to get harder and harder, but I keep finding hidden (to me) treasures wherever the roads lead me. Exploring has become sort of a personal project in my life as well as in my work. I seek to find things I haven't seen before. Even if they are familiar to the rest world, it's still all new to me. ANd isn't that the point of discovering and learning new things?

Somehow stumbling on a country road along these explorations makes me feel like I have found the ultimate treasure. That dirt road and the light streaming through the dripping Spanish moss tells me I have found what I was seeking all along. These country roads bring me where I always wanted to be in my heart.

They bring me home.

Breaking down

There is a remarkable beauty in the breaking down.

Press Pause.

There is no time to worry when you press pause for a moment and take it all in.

Breathe in peace. Breathe out fear.
Breathe in calm. Breathe out angst.
Breathe in love. Breathe out hate.

Just breathe it in.

The tides of change

A Full moon high tide at Shem Creek. Taken with my iPhone 6.

There are things I know for certain.

One of the things I know is that change will come, regardless of whether I want it to or not. And no matter how predictable that change, it still can catch me a little off guard. I know the seasons change, but when that happens is never determined perfectly on a calendar or clock. I know, too, that the tides will come and go, but the size of those tides is sometimes a little unpredictable and leaves behind flood waters so deep, I am not quite sure how to navigate them.

I find the best way to get through change - whether wanted or not - is be fluid. Change always seems to happen on its own terms. When I am anticipating it and wishing for it, it takes it's time getting to me. And when I begrudge it, it seems to happen more swiftly than I would have hoped for, ignorant to my pleas of mercy.

I find that the more I fight change, the less energy I have for the important things - like puzzles and beach walks and sunset chats. So now when change comes my way, I just try take a deep breath and close my eyes and remember - This, too, shall pass.

I have been here before...standing in these flood waters. So now, when the change comes again, I will be more prepared to breathe into those heavy currents.

The Farmer and the Chef

The Farmer and the Chef - aka Jim & David - are 2 of my favorite people on this earth. Not only are they some of the best humans, but they deal with 2 of my most favorite things on this earth: farming and food. They are at both amazing at what they do - no detail is ever overlooked. The care and artistry of their individual crafts always yields some incredible magic.

I can't wait to see the next part of this duo unfold - right before my very eyes! In the meantime, I will just keep yielding the fruits of their labor. Literally.

By the sea

We are happy by the sea.
Just you and me.
And a friend
or three.
Let's stay here and dance
in the waves
and romance
the notion of better days
and better nights ahead.
 

Silver Linings

A gorgeous Lowcountry Sunset on James Island.

There are days that feel so hard and overwhelming that I spend the better part of them looking for some illusive silver lining. I wait so anxiously to get to the end of it so I can just see a tranquil sunset or find some moment of joy after the drudgery is over that I forget to appreciate what the struggle is teaching me.

Today has been one of those days. I am spinning my wheels, frustrated by circumstances instead of breathing into the lesson. It doesn't mean I can't look forward to the end of it to watch the sky turn magical hues of rainbow sherbert and cotton candy. It just means that maybe in these moments of pushing against, I should try breathing into it and surrendering to the lessons.

Maybe that's where the silver lining of my day is actually hidden - inside these little life lessons I have been trying to get through so quickly.

Time to breathe. And appreciate the day.

Building Castles

“If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them. ”

— Henry David Thoreau

Welcome home.

I think I found heaven on earth on my little excursion to California last month. Rolling hills. Mountains. Creeks. Forests. Farms. The ocean. And wine(!). Our trip to California was lovely in so many different ways - the climate, the people, the geography, the food, the culture - even the work I was there for that didn't totally feel like work at all. I will forever try to be getting back to this very spot for the rest of my days - lingering in farm life, sipping wines, and watching sunsets paint the vineyards magical colors.

Oh California - I miss you so. Thanks for welcoming me home.

Giants

It is humbling...the presence of these trees. To stand in the glory of a giant Redwood tree is to be in awe of life as I know it. Their ripened age, their sheer size, the history they have seen.... It's an incredible experience. Once that I knew on my recent trip to the West Coast I must experience again in my lifetime.

Deep in the forest there is such a silence. Yet through the quiet stillness, you feel the energy. Water runs, breezes blow, birds busily build their nests, and creatures crawl swiftly across the forest floor in search of their next meal or their next home.

And yet, there they are - these grand trees. These Redwoods. The giants of our living world. There they stand - still and stoic amongst the bustle of life all around then. There they stand, supporting us all in their quiet stillness while they provide, shelter, nourish, and nurture - never asking for a thing in return.

To me, this is where I feel alive and protected. This is where I feel safe and still. These giants can't fail me. They can only protect. I know this in my heart.

And as I walk out of the forest, I am sure I can hear their gentle voices through the breezy afternoon whispering sweet nothings in my ear.

Forest and trees.

Taken for a client at Lake Greenwood, SC.

Sometimes I feel like I can finally see the clearing in the forest. The trees spread out, and the edge of the heavy, dark woods starts to disappear.

Then, like a blindfolded hostage, I am led back to the woods - to a new place - and left standing there trying to find my way back to the edge once again.

Listen...

Listen closely in these moments. Listen for the birds. Listen to the wind. Listen to your heart and the silence within it.

These are the special times. where stillness rises and gives way to chaos. Where love shines through the cracks.

Be still. And hear your heart.

Fog

Have patience. The fog always seems thickest just before it lifts away to reveal blue skies and sunshine.

Winds of Change

The winds of change are coming. Blowing in from a new direction and bringing with it the waters to wash away the dust and debris that remains. Don't be afraid, friend. Embrace it - the wind, the rain, the dark times. The storm can be a bumpy ride. But in the end, the sunshine will come out and shine it's magical light in all the places that were once covered up and waiting to be found again.