this morning was cozy. we sewed and read and played.
and then we went to visit my mom.
i wish i knew how to write about my childhood home.
it’s not home because my mom and dad still live there,
it’s home because it was wild and open place to grow.
and i am still that way.
i know the vistas and the trees and i learned the rhythm of the seasons here.
raised on a ridge between two canyons, barefoot, with 12 brothers and sisters.
we stacked firewood and read from the book of mormon and everyone played the piano.
and today the boys gather the eggs from my mom’s chickens.
i wander and forage fir tips like my dad taught me, and other greens, to supplement the eggs baking in the oven.
we dye blue eggs copper with onion skins.
before we leave teddy gets a piano lesson from my mom. <3