Under sun and in the rain

Yesterday the sky was a radiant gift wrapped in bright blue with strips of white gossamer.

As it turns out, I didn't feel much like spending time on the couch after all, fearing the onset of childbirth. We had more important tasks to attend to.

The harbor walk called to us -- no, it screamed at us from a half-a-dozen blocks away -- demanding our presence for mid-morning play. As did a grab-n-go cappuccino and Limonata with almond biscotti and Mexican wedding cookies on the way.



We sipped and strolled.

Brother and sister ran through soft green lawns edged with stone walkways, wooden benches and gardens that played host to bursting rose blossoms in holly red and snow white.



We created a symphony of only percussion sounds by tapping sticks on fences, signs and parking meters.



We waited for friends, then plunged toes into the sandy harborside beach and shared soul-filling playtime and conversation.

When nap time beckoned us homeward, we lunched, rested deeply and then met more friends for a pizza picnic on the living room floor with a holiday movie and lots of laughter.

Today we awoke to 55 degrees, gloomy skies and our first rain in months. It was equally as pleasing to our morning eyes as the sun had been the morning before.

The children and I set to work cleaning the house in preparation for fulfilling my promise that we would deck our halls for Christmas this weekend.

L was inspired to create an ensemble to wear to all of her upcoming holiday galas.

 

Once we finally brandished Rubbermaid treasure chests of ribbons and candles and other long-loved yuletide trappings, L excitedly plunged fingers into the pages of our Christmas storybook treasury in search of the Nutcracker.

 

C reunited Santa with his reindeer and a band of wandering angels dressed in white.

 

Then as we strung twinkling lights around our window panes, we noticed the rain with all of its cool, refreshing, autumnal and novel properties. C snuggled under his quilt and happily gazed up at the new string of tiny glowing globes hanging over his crib and drifted off to sleep with rain tapping at the windows.

L quickly found her winter coat and our only umbrella--dilapidated, but still worth popping open to twirl for a rain dance.

 

Tonight N returns and we will wait in our newly festive home...

... for the first Sunday of Advent with its single, anticipatory flame.

... for a season of social gatherings punctuated by fir boughs, glittery sweaters and prime rib dinners.

... for our own tiny bundle of new life to arrive one day and change our family forever.

... for a messiah to come with a promise of peace for the ages.

... for a new year to begin without our permission, yet expecting our participation.

... for life to swirl us up in its unyielding momentum and plunge us forward.