One-Year Photos

Our friend Amber came to Julia's grad party and snapped some beautiful images of Malachi.

I tried to post some of his newborn photos, but the disk doesn't want to load.

I am amazed at the ways a baby changes and grows in just one year. He crawls, has about four words, gets into cupboards, stands up on furniture, and knows how to turn the pages in a book. He may have the book upside-down, but he turns pages from left to right. If the page won't turn, he bellows at it.

Maybe by the time he turns two, he will be sleeping through the night.

 

This is my favorite picture. Look at that cute chin. Yummy-face.

To contact Amber or see her other work, look here.

My Dad

 In front of a village thatched house, in the Amazon jungle, around 1971.
(I am sitting on the platform, my sister is turning her cute face away from the camera).

Just a few things that I appreciate about my dad:

He can tell a joke.
Even when I've heard his jokes before, I listen with pleasure,
because he tells them with relish
and he remembers the punchline.

He's athletic.
He played baseball as a young man, but when we were growing up, he learned tennis.
He taught most of our children how to ride their bikes.
(Don't lose your edge, Dad. Just five more years and you can teach Malachi, too).

 Painting pots with the Chayahuitas.

Defying convention, he took his family to the jungles of Peru, giving me the best childhood ever.

He can roll with the punches.
(Flexibility is the number-one trait of missionaries).
(And as you see in this photo, so can my mom. This was her kitchen. Not all the time, just during the summers that we spent with the Chayahuitas).

He's brave.
He figured out  how to manuever a deeply-laden canoe through the vagaries of Amazonian rivers,
with an Indian guide along to keep us pointed in the right direction.

Church with the Chayahuitas.

He somehow adapted to being the father of three girls.
(Even though he grew up with all brothers).
And he's a bit mystified by us, but proud of us, too.

He's a born teacher.

 Lake Yarinacocha, the dolphin-filled lake that was the soul of our mission center.

He seeks the Lord continually.
One of my favorite memories, which I found embarrassing at the time, was when he used to shout out from his hammock, "Thank you Lord!" or, "I love you, Lord!"
The parrot learned to imitate the squeak of the hammock, but not the heart-felt praise and worship.
I think the hammock was consistent, but my dad's shout-outs were varied.

 My dad, Dr. Dodds, and George Hart running a TB (tuberculosis) clinic in the tribe.

He has spent his life serving others, and has found that giving continues to bring him life.

Happy Father's Day, Dad. I love you!

Pilot Me by Josh Garrels. Listen here.

Jess's Nursery, Gray and Green

 

 (Note the Japanese tape behind the tv, in a chevron pattern, and the simple doily swag above the fireplace).

I have been wanting to blog about mantels, and my friend Jess graciously allowed me to take a few photos of her house. I love her decorating. It's clean, simple, thoughtful, and some of the prettiest things in it are handmade. But I got to her house, and she pointed out that her mantel isn't exactly decorated. She has to keep it plain because of the television. I snapped this pic to show the book pages that she taped around the fireplace. Malachi didn't rip them off, although he thought about it.

 

 Look at this wall art! Ribbons sewn in a row. Jess says they flutter in the breeze when the window is open.

So we went upstairs and she let me snap photos of her nursery!
(Even though she and her husband are real photographers, and I am not).
Baby W is due any day now.
Here is what I love about this nursery:
No plastic.
No clutter.
Gray walls.
Handmade art.
A subtle polka-dot theme.

Look at this wonderful book corner.
Even the mobile above it is made from a vintage book.

 (To the left you can see a few of the copper polka-dots that sprinkle this wall).

Above, a close-up of the mobile, crafted from a Curious George that Jess has been saving for ages.

Malachi did try to destroy this polka-dot swag on the crib.
If Baby W is a girl, Jess will add accents of pink and orange.
Quilt by Jessica's mom.

I would blog about design more, but this guy keeps me focused on the things that matter.
Like the little person who will soon occupy this beautiful room.
Blessings on you all your days, Baby.
We can't wait to meet you!


Here is a sweet lullaby by one of our favorite artists. (My husband will not go anywhere without the cd, Love and War and the Sea In Between.)

Update: Greta Mae was born on June 20, perfect and beautiful. So I  made her a pink and orange blanket!

A Garden Tour

Nasturtiums make me feel so successful.
These were grown from seed.
I tried to keep the cost down (planters can get spendy),
so I bought about six petunias, eight pansies, a spike for each urn, and I filled in the rest with pansy and nasturtium seeds. (The big, flat leaves that float above the other flowers are the nasturtiums. They should bloom right around the time the pansies die out).

This year I tried something new for this patio pot.
I planted lettuces, chard, kale, parsley, and I can't remember what else.

The lilac is done blooming, but the Snow-in-Summer beneath it is gorgeous.

Here is a close-up of the Snow-in-Summer.
My sister-in-law got a little pot of it years ago, and now it fills several gardens.
I love it.

The back garden (what I call, unromantically, the Fire-Pit Garden).
Nate built these rock walls about ten years ago.
At the time, somebody we knew was moving, and she gave me many of her plants.
My favorites are the blue flax (you can just barely see it on the right),
the irises, and the garden phlox.
I wouldn't recommend planting the spider-wort (the bright pink in front),
because it's invasive and tries to hop everywhere.
It has invaded the peonies on the upper level of this rock wall.

A periwinkle iris from my friend Jamie.

This garden represents the best of times and the worst of times.
The tree in the middle is a terrible tree.
Look it up, it's called a Siberian Elm.
Nate and I think that someday scientists will be able to utilize its tendencies
for regrowth, refusing to die, and covering an area with its own kind.
Most of my weeding is tearing out the seedlings from this tree.
Below this awful tree, however, is one of my favorite little gardens.
More Snow-in-Summer, creeping phlox, hosta, bleeding heart, yarrow, bluebells, and some mystery plants that just might be weeds.

By the shed is the garden I probably look at the most, since I can see it from our living room.
This is a fantastic lilac.
It's called Tinkerbelle, and if you want some, I have plenty of good little baby Tinkerbelles to share.

Back around to the front of the house.
With our wet, cold  June, the bleeding heart have lasted a long time.
I like how the dianthus in front reach toward the sun.

On the north-east side of the yard, we planted a beautiful linden tree.
This is a wild-looking bed of columbine.
I tore out all the landscape fabric so these could reseed.

The columbine up close.
They are called Carol Ann, a misspelled version of my mom's name!

Back on the front porch, in damp flipflops,
happy that these blooms are finally taking off.
June has taken a long time to arrive.