Doors & Windows of Italy

From intricate wood-carved doors, to a simple window cascading with flowers, Europe has some of the best. There is something about them. I know you love them too. Of course some are a work of art, such as the gigantic doors of the Duomo, in Florence (directly below). Some just hold a mystery of what’s inside, while others frame a breathtaking view. Either way, they draw me in.

We snapped one and soon another followed. For some reason we got into this rhythm…I’d see a door, set up the shot and a little girl would step into it and wait for her picture to be taken. Sometimes I had two little girls in the shot.

And so, I present to you…The Italian Spring Door & Window Collection 2013:

 

 

 

 

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{Our Moment(s)}

Two sisters, two pictures…from two different countries. A Friday ritual. One photo each – no words – capturing a moment from the week. An image, a memory, a moment we want to pause, savor, remember and share. (Inspired by Amanda Soule)

 

 

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When life gives you malt balls…

This past Easter we saw our candy stash triple in size. And because we aren’t huge candy eaters, these goodies are around for ages.  The girls love dumping their entire bags onto the floor and taking inventory.  I remember loving this too – the sight and sound of all that candy, spilling and tumbling out of the bag, surrounding me in a colorful and delicious halo of (Mine! All Mine!) sugar. 

Like me, the girls spend ages humming-n-hawing over “which one to try tonight.”  My eldest and most cerebral lass always asks for my opinion,

Should I choose this one…or this one mama?”

Lately, perhaps because we’re in a new country and absolutely everything around her seems new and mysterious, she’s even more intent on getting me to weigh in on the hits-n-misses of All Things British.  Sweets and treats are no exception.  Since Easter, it has been my job (piece by piece) to describe the flavors and features, pros & cons of each potentially-delicious candidate.

This past weekend, while walking over the Malvern Hills, I brought out a small bag of sweets and let the girls take their pick. As usual, Layn quickly chooses two things and runs off; thrilled to welcome sugar in any form, yelling a wind-swept “Thank You!” over her shoulder as she disappears around a turn.  Wynn, on the other hand, is pensive and methodical. She takes forever (foreeeeeeeever) making up her mind.  She’s narrowed it down – this one, or that one? …or maybe that one? She’s most curious about a small bag of malt balls and asks what they are.  And so I describe them as best I can…

Well, these are covered with a thin layer of chocolate, and the inside is airy and milky and sweet.  These can ‘pop’ open in your mouth or melt on your tongue – your choice. They’re good. I think you’ll like them.”

She’s intrigued, and she chooses the malt balls. 

 

I smile at the fact that, at six years old, the world is still a place that has malt balls up its sleeve…still a place full (FULL!) of first time sights and tastes, textures and lessons. 

And quite suddenly, I realize that this malt-ball-moment just might be the perfect way to explain why I have loved living a life of constant movement.  A life that includes packing up, relocating, discovering, settling in — and then doing it all over again.

In my experience, once I have lived somewhere long enough to know how most of the candy tastes…what aisle the cereal is in…where the two best Indian restaurants are in town – it often feels as though it might be time to move on. {I have found that this takes between 2-3 years.}

Familiar things are wonderful and I am constantly thankful for the comforts – the scent/tastes/sights/friendships — found at home.  But there is also something equally wonderful about being in a place where life is constantly introducing you to malt balls. 

This way, as a girl in my late thirties, I get to be six again. I get to be curious, take a risk, and try something new. I might love it. I might not. But, it’s hard to beat the feeling of waking up and knowing there is (there truly is) a whole world outside my door waiting to be discovered.  And savored. 

For the very first time.

To my mind, the greatest reward and luxury of travel is to be able to experience everyday things as if for the first time, to be in a position in which almost nothing is so familiar it is taken for granted.” – Bill Bryson

 

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7 Days in CPH

This space was quiet last week.  And while we sipped tea, side by side for the first time in nearly two years, we talked about throwing some photos on here; for the moms & dads, grandparents & friends who have been (almost) as excited as us about our sisters-n-cousins reunion.

Instead, we decided (wisely, I would say) to just be together. To leave all things cyber in the land of all things cyber. Instead, we did what we have always done – explore and sip, embracing the busy and the quiet moments, running (a bit), confiding (a lot), knitting here, window shopping there, talking endlessly and late into the night and trying to squeeze as much as possible into one short week.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was everything I hoped our Copenhagen reunion would be – cupcakes and wine, museums and parks, street food and candlelight, sun and snow(!), birthdays and lazy(‘ish) days, the hustle&bustle of a cool European city, followed by the quiet calm of your center city apartment and a view that I still miss waking up to…

There was also the bonus of more ice cream than I anticipated for a cold (cold) week in Denmark. 

And, of course, the (very) added bonus that this time I only have to wait five weeks until I see you again.

Somehow (!?) I managed to take 777 photographs in 7 days.  And, while I’ve already included several, I had to share this last string…because they capture the week perfectly to me – seven days of beautiful sights, little people in tow and lots of laughter (credit: to our 4-year-old photographer…who just didn’t think one shot was enough!). 

 

 

Thank you again for having us, feeding us and touring us. I can’t wait for the City Mouse (that you’ve become) to visit the Country Mouse (that I’ve become). 

How happy (happy!happy!) I am that we are closer. ♥ ♥

 

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Once upon a time in Scotland…

This past weekend we took our girls and introduced them to Scotland.  To the unforgettable hills and streets, cottage and cobblestone Steve and I called “home” before they were born.  And much like we did upon first arriving, they reveled at the sight of each kilted fellow and Highland Cow (or “Coo” as we call them in mock Scottish accents), at the sound of bagpipes and the thought of haggis. 

I thought of all the times that mom and dad have “taken us back” to places where they were young and footloose – to the cafes where they waited tables or the pubs where they met for drinks, to the shops where she spent her first paychecks, or the rocky English bays where he learned to scuba dive.  Like watching the scenes of a great story unfold, I would soak it all in (I still soak it all in) –- wanting to remember every detail, to envision a younger mom and blond, tousle-haired dad, writing those first chapters. Their story…and my prelude.

And, as the great circle of life dictates, now it’s my turn…to take them on a tour of streets and shops, cafes and pubs…to add views and color, tastes and texture…to fill in blanks and set the stage…as my life becomes a prelude to theirs. 

 

We weren’t great tourists this time around.  Mostly, we visited friends and favorite haunts, but we’ll be back — to introduce them lochs and thistles, to Nessy and Burns, to islands and highlands and of course, to Layn’s stunning castle namesake.  After all, now there’s nothing but a scenic stretch of the M6 separating us from one of our favorite places on the planet. 

Scotland, chi mi a-rithist thu (We’ll see you soon)!

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But tomorrow may rain, so I’ll follow the sun…

Weather can be a gamble around here.  Sunny, clear-skied and mild — then blustery, brittle and cold.  A lot like the northwest really – the kind of climate that makes you dress quickly and SEIZE a glorious moment before it passes.

Thankfully, England has approximately 140,000 miles of public footpaths, so you are never far from a spur-of-the-moment stroll through the countryside. We found a footpath stile just outside our gate here on the farm and had just been waiting for a (clear) day and (dry) time to follow it. 

We set out yesterday, for a late afternoon walk – eager to explore and meander. The girls ran ahead much of the time – chasing after waymarks as though they were clues on a great treasure hunt.

One of my earliest memories (and first loves) was chasing those same waymarks and public footpath signs…hopping over stiles & stalls across the English countryside…a little girl in Wellington boots, on a grand adventure with her sister.

As you can imagine, as I watched my girls do the same, the world felt balanced and familiar. The moment, both ironic, but inevitable.

Of course they would learn to love waymarks and stile-hopping. Of course they would grow up traipsing and touring the hills & vales of Britain in colorful rubber boots while the sun set behind them.

Because even though life is uncertain – memories and nostalgia are powerful things; forces, as they say, to be reckoned with.  Like waymarks, perhaps they have a way of guiding us back towards places & spaces where we’ve been wild & careless, loved & brave. Just a big happy heart in tiny boots.

 

 

 

Moving house isn’t easy. Crossing an ocean has its hiccups. Saying goodbye stinks. Getting resettled is Hard (with a capital H).

But – as the sky turned a deep, royal, endless blue and the stars came out around us – I watched two tiny shadows hop and run towards the farm they now call “home.” And I couldn’t help but think about why we left and why we came here – and why it is that roads less travelled have their lure. 

Life, I guess, can be like fickle weather.  Can’t it?  If it gives you a moment to reach for your coat, put on good boots and find a path to explore – you should jump; because the weather may change at any moment.  And if you go, I’m fairly convinced you’ll be glad you did.  Even if you all lose your boots in the mud for a while…like we did. <smile>

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The details

I had forgotten how much I miss the little things on this side of the Atlantic…the out-of-a-corner-of-my-eye and unexpected; the tucked-away and who’d-have-thought.  They meet you as a round a turn, stop to tie your shoe or stand and feed the pigeons.     

It’s those little things that remind me (all the time) that I am in living in an old (old) world.  A place full of history and storied — royals & lore, legends & hauntings.  A place rich in details.

We snapped these pics while ambling along. Destination: nowhere-in-particular.

There is much I miss about our-most-recent home (west of the Atlantic) – but today, two weeks after we first arrived, I’m stopping to appreciate the little things. 

The details.

Yes. I’ve missed the details…

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“Almost Impossible Actually”

So…it would seem we have some catching up to do (you & me & this space of ours). 

It’s difficult to know where to start…given that the sort of busy-ness that might normally spread itself across a string of months (or years?) has decided to squeeze itself into a few short weeks.  While most people who know me agree that I prefer chaos to boredom (which is true) – the month of January had me longing for a place in the world where I could sit peacefully and watch paint dry.

The short-of-the-long is this… 

In late December we made the rather sudden (…okay…totally sudden) decision to leave the US and relocate to the UK – where the boy has accepted his first teaching position now that the PhD is (*almost*) done.  I remember the first time I mentioned the idea (and the timeframe) to you via Skype.  I think your exact words were,

“That…sounds…almost impossible actually.”

 

Turns out you were right. It was ALMOST impossible actually. Wrapping up our family’s life in the US in the space of four (blink-of-an-eye) weeks turned out to be hard.  In fact, I think I would rather experience another round of natural childbirth or run a week of ’round-the-clock marathons – before I attempt to do something so BIG inside of a window so small again any time soon.   I would not (if you can’t tell) recommend it…unless you’re in a very masochistic mood indeed.

The only way we managed it was through back-to-back (to-back-to-back) long days and (even loooonger) nights of constant bustling.  Many checklists were needed. It also required a decent sense of humor and a fairly relaxed attitude towards how things were organized (i.e. “Sure! Pack those hiking boots with the kitchen herbs!”). Here’s another example… One of the-best-neighbors-in-the-world packed this box — I can’t wait to find out what “basketball table lights” are and why we packed “leaves”??

Which reminds me, we just couldn’t have done it without the superhuman help of (50+) friends and neighbors – who offered to watch children and bring food, clean house and pack boxes, loan cars and who eventually sent us off with a Bon Voyage party that defies the neighborhood norm. {“Thank You Kenilworth!!”}

In the end (and with the taxi waiting in the drive) we made it out of our sweet Philly suburb, onto three separate flights and into our new home in the UK…or perhaps, I should say our “home’ish” (More on that later.)  For now…here are some photos of what we’re seeing… Oh, I should explain that the River Severn, which runs through the center of town, is currently flooded (as illustrated by the duck swimming in the public walkway) <smile>

Sitting here now, on the other side of the Atlantic …in a comfy, oversized pea green armchair (the sort that Granddad Eric would have loved) — having successfully accomplished the “almost impossible actually” – I feel as though I want a medal of some sort. I want a shiny/dangling-round-my-neck reminder that with lots of determination, a few mountain-sized piles of bubble wrap and wrap-twice-‘round-the-moon rolls of packing tape, as well as the support of an entire neighborhood – the “almost impossible actually”…is possible, actually.

More from my new corner soon!

p.s. Oh…we have swans to visit now too…

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This is How we Roll…

Family travel often causes one to ask: Car seat or no car seat? We opted for purchasing compact, travel seats, thus taking our own when we travel by car.

You’ve been asking me some questions lately about our Go Hybrid-booster seats, and I actually took these photos on our summer trip in Germany, with a post like this in mind, because I feel that any avid traveling family might benefit from the information.

We first discovered this car seat because friends were using one in their 2nd car. Rather than buy a second set of very expensive car seats for a car their children only traveled in 15% of the time, they opted for a less expensive option that still provided the safety of a 5-point harness. This also avoids the hassle of having to transfer seats to another car all the time.

Besides all that, they are pretty perfect for a family on-the-go. So as soon as we found out we were moving to Denmark and would no longer be owning a car of our own, we sold our much-loved and trusted Britax seats and bought 2 Go Hybrid seats (by Safety 1st). They have worked perfectly for the many times we have traveled with rental cars.

(The reason the bags below are different is because Safety 1st bought Safe Guard Go between the time we purchased the two.)

Below is what it looks like outside of the bag and uninstalled. There is no hard back, so they require a car with a latch system and a rear tether, in order to be used as a 5-point harness. Any car newer than 2002 (as most rental cars are) have these two features, so this has never been a problem for us.

We have never used them as a booster seat with the cars seat belt, but this is recommended for kids weighing over 65 lbs. The backless booster mode is rated for up to 100 pounds. However, I just learned an important fact (perhaps you know this) but each vehicle has a LATCH rating and many of them max out at 48 pounds! So in some cases, even if your car seat says you can use the latch system and 5-point harness up to 100 pounds, the car’s seatbelt might actually be safer for bigger kids, depending on the car’s latch rating! Something to look into further perhaps.

I read a few reviews from parents who had children complaining of comfort in these seats. Ours have never complained. They don’t sit quite as high up as in a bigger, bulkier seat, so I had little D sitting on a make-shift pillow (stack of clothes) on our last trip, so she could see out the window better. I also tend to find that sleepy heads go bobbing a bit in these seats, because they sit very straight. (Yet, head-bobbing is a general car seat dilemma, I think.)

For this reasons, I am crafting up these neck pillows, in hopes of making car travel a bit more enjoyable for our pint-size explorers.  (Photo from Pinterest.)

I’ll let you know how they turn out!

Good luck with your car seat purchase(s)!

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View from Here: The Chesapeake

How I love day trips.

Not to mention the feeling I get when I see the words “lighthouse” + “trail” in the same sentence. 

I also love trail blazes and vines you can swing from. These look like they’re probably part of the Appalachian Trail Blaze system.

 

When was the last time you climbed to the top of a lighthouse?  Reminded me of our old love affair with Pete’s Dragon. <smile>

Outside of the Amazon, I’ve never seen so many incredible butterflies.  They were also incredibly fast, so pictures were nearly impossible!

  

Time for a swim in the bay…

Followed by sandcastles…

Kites!

And sunset…

Chesapeake Bay; we’re grateful and we’ll be back.

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