I really, really love the windows in my house. Right now, I’m sitting at my kitchen table with a bank of windows to my left overlooking a tree-lined field, and in front of me, another wall of windows offers views of the far-off Adirondacks. The grass is as green as ever, the trees are muted golds and coppers and reds, and the sky is gray. Autumn is an indescribable show of beauty, and these windows allow me a front row seat. I’m thankful.

Last week we did the Great Clothing Exchange. I actually didn’t mind, since I was getting very itchy to go through the bins and get rid of extra clothing that didn’t get worn much. The part I did mind, more than usual, was the sadness of packing away yet another year of growth and childhood. William is proudly wearing size 4’s now — the clothes Jameson wore our last fall and winter in California. But Jameson was a big boy then, and William is still just little — isn’t he? Is he actually this tall, this thin, this lacking in any baby fat? I see him wearing these clothes, and I still just can’t believe that he’s not really a baby at all. Sweet William. Little man Jameson. Beatrice, toddling around. So big.

We’ve had several regular days of school and chores and being home in the last few weeks. Often, the boys and I have cleaned up from dinner, lit a candle, and pulled out a few games to play around the table. The games are fun, but being with them on a quiet evening, in the warmth of our house? Priceless.

Last Friday, we read the very last chapter of the Little House series. I didn’t anticipate how sad that would be for me, either. But it was. I closed the book, and my eyes filled with tears. Not because I’ll miss the saga of Laura and her family, but because a whole chunk of Jameson and William’s childhood is behind us. I don’t even know when we began reading those books, but most likely, I’ll never read those books again to little Jameson and William at naptime.

I know. Sentimental much? Yeah, a little.

So today we started All-of-a-kind Family — the story of an early-1900s family with five girls in New York City. Oh, I love those books so much! I can’t wait to read them and have the boys love them, too. Of course, today they were a little stand-off-ish. They really love Laura and Ma and Pa, and aren’t too sure about all of these new names and characters. But they quietly listened along, slowly figuring out who’s who. About halfway through the first chapter, William raised his little hand and, in his adorable quizzical way, asked, “So, Mama, is Henny not a chicken?” Ha! Oh, these kids. Their little minds are just the funniest, most amazing things.

Tonight, soup made from leftover pot roast. On a day like today, there simply must be something simmering in a pot on the stove. Or, at least, it certainly aids in coziness.

2 Comments bits

  1. sarah o.

    We love All-of-a-Kind-Family here!
    And, a little story to go along with William thinking Henny was a chicken… A few years ago we read Heidi aloud and Kate was telling Steven what had happened earlier in the book. (I think he was reading that night but hadn’t been there for the first chapters.) She told him that Heidi’s father was killed by a peanut. Further questioning lead to her saying, “well, he got hit by a bean, I think.” At which point we said, “Ahha. A BEAM!” Ha. So funny.


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