Treasure

So Rowan thinks he's a pirate. I'm not sure where the obsession originated, but we've managed to unintentionally encourage it. Okay, so it's been somewhat intentional. It's just incredibly adorable to hear him say, "Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of juice!" Or tell the old ladies in the gift shop down the shore to "Walk the plank!"

As a result, he's been searching high and low for "pirate booty" (his exact words--where does he get this stuff?). You never know what might be considered treasure these days. Some of his favorites include an egg-like stone, a collection of snail shells and a bluejay feather. The bluejay feather was his first gift from the sky. Found on a quiet walk through the woods with mama a few weeks ago. Papa has a talent for attracting feather gifts as well, so I'm not surprised my eagle-eyed son has begun to express the same.

I also suspect one of the new earings my mother gave me may have been pirated, but I have yet to discover where it's been buried.

Seaside, book II

Despite Rowan's beach bum temperament, Mama's delicate skin and aversion to sunburn and sweat meant many hours spent enjoying each other's company away from the sand and sea. In fact, we all found a lovely bit of solace tucked under the dappled shade and hidden in the damp mossy crevises of Brookgreen Gardens.

When what should we hear as we come out from under a canopy of old oaks but Rowan's excited voice saying, "Look. Giant ba-ba's!"

And, of course, there were rides. Papa might be highly allergic to the teacups, but they were by-far Rowan's favorites.

Seaside, book I

Sunset Beach, NC. August 16-25, 2008: We were invited to spend a week with friends at the beach this summer. Three families, three kids (1-3) and one in the oven. We rented a house half a block from the beach on a quiet island just off the coast. It was lovely!

I say our house was only half a block from the beach, but I neglect to mention the boardwalk that is nearly three blocks long from the beach access to the actual beach. I still hold that this gorgeous path among the dunes doesn't count due entirely to the enjoyment we all had padding back and forth on it's well-worn wood.

A lesson in ocean etiquette from mamma. That hat didn't stay on long. In fact, within the first 15 minutes in the water Rowan was laying down and putting his head under. Turns out he's a natural beach bum!

Low tide revealed a small sand bar just a few yards out. The waves tumbled on the rise and created a calm wading pool just perfect for Rowan and Mama to play.

Like father, like son...they have the exact same stride!

Bedside

There is a white wraught iron, glass-topped table on my side of the bed. It's old, with sharp corners and glass chipped from years on my parent's back porch. It used to sit in our living room until the little bear found his way into this world. As heavy things and sharp things, things too big and things too small all made their way into the attic, I couldn't bear to see this one item stored away. Here are some fragments that I currently keep on my bedside table...

The scent of cinnamon, strong and heady, from a lovely cinnamon wood canister. About $17.68. "Wonder Lands" by Bryna Untemeyer. "Jesus and the Lost Goddess" by Timothy Freke, Peter Gandy. "In Defense of Food" by Michael Pollan. "Twilight" by Stephanie Meyer. One diaper, size four. Sesame Street towel from 1978. Small basket with four jars of scented oils (orange, pine, lavendar, fresh linen).

Yes...I promise pictures very, very soon.