Happy Easter!

Slim Paley photo

Wishing everyone a beautiful Easter Weekend.

 It was indeed an exquisite day here in Santa Barbara, though I’m fending off a touch of melancholy as has been my custom the past few Easters; reminiscing about egg hunts with our little boys and how those days are long gone for us now. Peculiar that this holiday more than any other affects me in this way.  I’ve one photo in particular of my little men with their Easter baskets that almost makes me weep every time I look at it. My older son’s hair is as gold as if the sun itself has bent to kiss him, and younger son is trailing along,  sporting overalls at half-mast and a look that suggests he’s not at all satisfied with the day’s gatherings just yet.


As nature (and Khalil Gibran) remind us

“Life goes not backward, nor tarries with yesterday…”

Slim Paley photos

 Columbines photographed today in the garden. I only have this colour at the moment, but I’m on the hunt for the coral and pale yellow combination as well.

I love the little tails that shoot out behind these flowers. They are a sweet addition to a bouquet.

Looks as if we’re going to have another bumper crop of roses this Spring and Summer!

I can barely stand how beautiful the colour of this rose is.

I could almost cry (again. Oh dear…)

Merci to a dear friend for my delicious bonbons

 I hope you receive many treasures from your bunny(s) this Easter Morning!

Looking back to Easters past (a post from 2010);  Peeps & Paas 

And for newer readers;

 if you care to take a peek at the post I hold dearest in my heart  (I warned you I was emotional)

  Here; Bringing up Boys  (please do play the music)

and once again,

Happy Easter and Passover to you all!




Bringing Up Boys


My Old Soul..

Our older son turns 20 today.  Our first born, of the golden hair and disposition to match, is no longer a teenager.  He is now an amazing young man; wise beyond his years, kind, inquisitive, fun to be with, and though the flaxen hair is gone, the sweet temperament remains. The boy was born an old soul. So call the Cliche Police but the twenty years has flown by and me, the girliest of girls (well, besides the swearing and frog catching- me, not the boys) never did get to experience braiding hair, playing with dolls, choosing dresses and sparkly shoes, or arguing over diaries with daughters.  Instead, my years were filled with;

Couldn’t resist this music for this post


Chaperoning first dates…

…Some more innocent than others…

Praising first swimming lessons…

Decorating Pirate ship rooms…

and outsmarting Leprachauns

Using telepathy to help guide balls over nets…

Dressing Power Rangers, Pokemen...

…and Ninjas!

Hooking up hoses…

silently mouthing lines in plays…

Making hot chocolate…

Capturing Moments

and still more moments…

Even the dog was a boy. Hell, so were our rabbits…and the infamous, beloved hamster Gomez, who disappeared from his cage one day. My distraught son and I slept on the kitchen floor in sleeping bags, ringing ourselves with peanut butter and apple slices in a failed attempt at recapturing the AWOL rodent.  He was apprehended a couple of months later, sauntering down the upstairs hall in the middle of the night as if he owned it, standing upright I might add, like he was simply out for his evening constitutional. God only knows what he had been eating all that time but he certainly wasn’t any worse for wear.

…and still, always mom with the camera!

…and the scrapbooks


Holding my breath…

Catching my breath…

Seeing them soar….


…and tucking them back in

Making sure a helmet was worn at ALL times (especially when the seat was up :) )

…and always most of the time trying to remain calm :)

and finally wondering now, as my birthday boy shaves his beard and my baby boy starts creeping up over 6′ 2″ how could I have ever even imagined MOI having girls??!


Wishing all parents with little ones…  Days as long and sweet as the summer days when we were very young-

Everlasting and brimming with promise and pleasure.


And Happy Happy Birthday to my Golden Boy :)

Painting by Archibald Barnes.