thankful in simplicity.

As the hurricanes roar on the east coast, I feel extremely blessed to be sitting in my dry home with nothing to complain of but the steady rain. Oregon is so incredibly mild weather-wise; it is hard to believe from here that floods and fires and snowstorms are happening. My heart goes out to those who have been in the path of Hurricane Sandy--you are in my prayers. 

The thought of fellow citizens going through so much loss and devastation brings me back to how important the little mundane, simplistic details of life really are. I get up, I read my Bible, I get dressed, I feed the chickens, etc., etc.--it can begin to seem monotonous, but what if I lost it all? What if I had no Bible to read? What if I could not get up; had not the strength walk the path to the chicken coop, or carry the feed? It puts life in a different light.

So many times we think, "If only I were somewhere bigger, better--I could do so much!" We are often discontent with where God has placed us, right now, thinking we are justified in silently wishing for more. Yet isn't it the small things that prepare us for the larger? 

...And quite frankly, I would rather be feeding my own little red hens as the sun rises in my own little part of Oregon than making it big in New York City right now.

Literally. 

Remember those who are in New York City and across the East Coast today, though, and also remember that you are a part of God's plan, wherever you are at this moment. 

"If you are faithful in the little things, you will be faithful in the larger ones. But if you are dishonest in the little things, you won't be honest with greater responsibilities."

(Luke 16:10)

in the green and yellow || portraits

When the leaves are changing, all you want to do is go stand under a tree and stare up at a kaleidoscopic canvas of greens and yellows and oranges. It sounds cliche, but I really do love this Fall-ish time of year. Desolate spots in town are now transformed by the blushes on the sidewalk trees, and raking up the fallen leaves is a chore I'll never complain of.

Yesterday I proposed--out of the blue, as it usually goes--to Olivia that I grab the camera, she don a dress and curl her hair, and we go down the driveway and do a photo shoot. On a whim, just like that.

And so we went to the yellow and green trees at the end of the field, as the rain hushed for a moment and the overcast skies churned like cotton.

Here is our work. Enjoy.

-lucia

ps- someone told me that HSB nominations began a few weeks ago, and end tonight! I already voted for my  favorite bloggers; if you have a favorite (or two) in mind, head over here to nominate them and give them a chance to win some prizes and get known!

ripening

Sometimes I wish the seasons would stay put for a little longer--for here it is, already the seventh of October. Fall is nearly half-gone, yet the leaves are still too shy to turn completely, and though the crisp cold of arising Winter visits us mornings and nights, summer lingers in the daylight air. 

Today I wore my fuzzy purple slippers outside, and followed the cat around until we both found ourselves sitting in the same spot, looking at the same orange leaves. I wonder if we were thinking the same thing, too. Most likely not. My thoughts rarely run by the way of mice. 

There was a forgotten yellow watering can in the garden, surrounded by a tangle of weeds and flowers and what's leftover from our summer produce.  We grew tomatoes and lettuce and corn and beans and everything you usually grow in a garden; it's all gone now--in the cellar and in our stomachs.

Mundane scenes. Yet  comfy scenes. Like //

Brownies with a hole picked in them (not naming any names, but some people just can't wait!), warm and gooey with their rich Betty Crocker accents. 

Little yellow pears from the orchard next door. 

Little boys with orange hair and orange freckles and yellow bow ties. 

And as evening begins, the half-eaten moon left small and lonely on its dusky blue plate. 

..How is Fall ripening for you?

xo,

Lucia