My mother’s garden is so beautiful and vibrant, so I thought it would be interesting to look at it through a colorless prism.
We walked through the downtown area of Bardstown took some pictures of some of my favorite homes. Still haven’t taken a picture of the building named for my husband’s ancestor (it is undergoing repairs).
We went to My Old Kentucky Home State park. That’s where I became disappointed. It is a pretty park, everything is well maintained, and as you walk along the brick paths you hear this constant ringing of bells playing every song that Stephen Foster composed. Maybe it was, in part, due the the headache I was developing but stubbornly ignoring in attempt to limit my intake of tylenol, asprin or my all time favorite excedrin. But the bells that were trolling from outdoor speakers around every corner were nauseating.
I love old buildings, I love to look at them and imagine what it must have been like to live when they were new and opulent. But I just can’t get passed that music. Cheesy bells playing Camptown Races, My Old Kentucky Home, Oh Susannah, over and over, bells bells bells. Ugh. I came really close to saying something to one of the park officials, but my growing head ache urged me to press on and get it over with.
Other than that I love Federal Hill itself. It’s beautiful with it’s old brick, masonry stars, and Judge John Rowan’s spring house turned law office down the hill. The boys enjoyed the walking and the boys enjoyed running around the rotunda.
We ended our day out with a stop at the library, then some fun at the park.
Oh yeah, one more thing adding to my frustration with my experience with My Old Kentucky Home. There was a lady that offered to take my picture with the kids. I was thrilled, but in the back of my mind I knew that the picture—like any other that someone takes of me with my family—would be out of focus or I would have a goofy looking face or my eyes would be closed or look like they are ready to pop right out of my head. I was right. I don’t blame her for it, it wasn’t her fault the picture was crumby. I can barely master my new camera myself let alone trying to explain it to a well intentioned stranger. So there you have it, my latest experience attempting to show you my town. The next involves bourbon, hopefully that will be a little more fun! 😉
Today feels like an early autumn day. The air is crisp and cool, and there is a quiet steady breeze blowing.
Here is a little something I wrote in my journal last September after lying down in grass soaking up the sun and watching the clouds (one of my favorite pass-times, when I get a chance).
Lying on the ground cushioned by the last of summer’s lush green carpet, I close my eyes.
The sun embraces me with a warm kiss on the face of her beloved child.
Letting out of breath my soul rises up toward the heavens.
From high above, I can see the earth turning golden and red;
Dotted throughout the emerald hills as the pulse of a heartbeat,
Ever changing growing older with each passing season.
I am brought back down out of my dream by the conscoiusness of my senses
As a crisp cool breath is blown upon me.
Autumn is welcoming me with his quiet steady arms.
Ten million little speckles of dust in the sun.
All swirling down from where ever they must come.
Reach out your little hand and touch them in wonder.
What are these floaty things your small mind must ponder.
The simple sweet things of childhood wonder,
Like ten million little speckles of dust in the sun.
What is this amazement a small parade?
Little balloons released for me on this day!
If I could collect them and take them with me,
I’ll show the world how delightful life could be.
The simple sweet things of childhood wonder
Like ten million little speckles of dust in the sun.
I remember as a very young child (2 or 3?), looking at the dust floating in the sunlight. I thought they were balloons, I still remember some of the conversation I had with my mother about them being balloons. I caught my youngest son admiring the dust in the sunlight. His little hand reaching out to touch the mysterious shinny flecks gave me a flashback to my childhood experience with dust in the sun. I wish I would have had my camera handy when it happened because it was so cute. Been hoping to catch him at it again, but no luck. Have any unique childhood memories? Please share.
This post is about my hometown. If you have ever had a sip (or two) of bourbon chances are you are tasting the very thing that makes this place famous. We live in Kentucky, known to most by the stereotype of everyone being “hillbillies” running around barefoot with guns all the time. We certainly have our share of rednecks, but we do have an abundance of culture and history as well. I’m hoping to have this photo tour done in three posts but there are so many great things that I love about this town and I’m discovering more all the time, so we’ll just have to see where we end up.
The Jailer’s Inn was the county jail and operated as a jail for almost 200 years!
Back of Jailer’s Inn.
A good friend let us in to see the courtyard.
“I wish for a big red bicycle.”
Great atmosphere as are most of the taverns, pubs and bars in this town.
“Main” street. North Third to be precise.
No dark scary alley here.
This home is called Shadow Lawn. It was the home of my husband’s great uncle. There are other buildings that are named after my husband’s ancestors… stay tuned.
Resting while mom takes more pictures.
Another resting spot for a weary boy. I believe these stones were laid as stairs for carriage entry.
Historic Spalding Hall was a college in the 19th century and briefly a hospital during the civil war. It is now the Oscar Getz Museum of Whiskey History and Bardstown Historical Museum.
Waiting for the traffic light.
At the end of our little adventure I took some pictures of my travel companions. The littlest guy is in the wagon. He does not like his picture taken.
Stay tuned for more of my town.
Yesterday ended one of the best weekends I’ve had in a long time. We spent our weekend preparing for Easter, hosting the annual Easter dinner and Egg hunt and enjoying the company of family and friends. Sunday was absolutely beautiful, we went to church then came home and started cooking for the big dinner. The kids had a blast looking for eggs and playing with their aunt, uncles, grandmas and grandpas.
I always wish we could extend such wonderful times and cherish them. I know they are in my memory and the memory of everyone there. I document the heck out of family events with hundreds of photos in fear that I might forget something later. I like looking at old pictures and seeing how much we’ve all changed and remembering what good times we’ve had. There aren’t many pictures of myself, since I tend to be the one with the camera. It brought me to wonder, however, how will my kids remember me? I guess that’s what brings me to the working from home part.
Anyone would think that working from home is great and I’m not trying to say that it isn’t. I love being able to raise my kids and stay with them most of the time. But I wonder sometimes if it is more damaging to them when I am working and not one hundred percent available to them when they may need me. When I work at home, especially if I am under the pressure of strict deadlines, I tend to be more distracted with work and not able to respond to them with my full attention.
When I was growing up my mother always took time out for us and was always able to sit and talk with us. Even while she was doing dishes, cooking, folding laundry or doing any of the other household duties of a mother/homemaker she managed to make us feel as though we were all that mattered. Looking back it was so reassuring that my mom was able to give us her full attention. I remember knowing that I could always talk to my mom about anything at almost anytime. To this day my mom is the one person I know I can go to when I need someone to listen to what I have to say and give reassuring words of encouragement.
I feel that sometimes because of my working from home and the amount of focusing that my work requires the thing that suffers most are my children’s needs. They are well fed and they get plenty of exercise and fresh air, but I feel like I don’t spend enough time with only them, no distractions. I don’t want them to look back and remember a childhood looking at mom’s back and the computer screen always having mom’s attention, with my most famous phrases being: “In a minute,” “Not now,” “After I finish this.”
I cherish my weekends with them. It is a time for just our little family, time to run and play and encourage the wonders of childhood. I am working harder at paying attention to things I do while I am working in regard to their emotional needs from me. No more “in a minute,” “not now” or “after I finish this.” I am blessed to be able to work from home. I am blessed beyond words with two beautiful boys. I need to work harder at the most important job I will ever have; being the best mom I can be to my wonderful boys. Not perfection, I know that can never be achieved, just do my best for them. They deserve my best and work can have the left overs, not the other way around.
Often times I get run down by the rat race of everyday living in the modern world. One way to revitalize my soul is just to be in the forest. I love to drink in the simplicity and interdependence of the natural world. I love to look up at the trees bending with the breath of wind and imagine that God is brushing His hand across them as a child would in a field of wildflowers.