blessed beyond measure

The predawn feels like fall. Sunrise grows later and later, and the avian singsong has changed to the chirp of crickets. The air isn't cool yet, but last week's glimpse of it carried a promise of what is shortly to come. I'm struggling for words. Not because of any big life change, really I don't know why. The routine is back and, strange and new as it is, perhaps it's a bit mundane. Transition to school for the boys, aside from how offended they are to have less screen time, has been fairly seamless. They seem happy in classes and with friends, and are so far keeping up with their work. The garden is down to just tomatoes, but boy are there ever tomatoes. Sure would like to can spaghetti sauce or something with them. That would definitely be something new, probably hard work, and there's about a one hundred percent chance the boys wouldn't eat it. Yes, we still struggle with food. Hard to believe that eleven years in I still have no clue what to...

I mean, for at least the last month, these boys have been in active resistance of anything related to education. Not just your typical whining and spaghetti legs, which of course there's been plenty of, but they wouldn't even let anyone use the word school . The reaction was everything from covering ears and humming, to making an almost supersonic bleeeep to block out the word. Some of you couple of readers might consider that this is some sweet quality of their character, that they so enjoyed time with family and romping through the summer sun that they just don't want to let it go. Yeah, no. They grieve for their precious screens. And I can not roll my eyes far enough into the back of my head for that one. It came, it really did. The first day of school and one Mama's open arms await the peace and predictability of routine. How I've missed you. The house looks like someone picked it up, spun it, rolled it, and set it back down. It's time. Things ...