Change of scene

Today, on a whim, I took Clementine somewhere new. Every day we walk to the pond near our house, where she can run off-leash through the woods that surround it. The paths around the pond are one of the reasons I love where we live. But today I needed a change of scene.

So we got in the car and drove to a town reservation where dogs can run off-leash on different paths through different woods, and where I can look at houses. There's something about looking at a house from behind that feels more personal than the typical from-the-road perspective. The architecture is often more interesting. You see grills and soccer nets and potting sheds that are hidden from the front. I like to imagine the families that live there, and I like to imagine us living there. And for Clementine? The bliss of all those new smells.

Oh, snow

It's snowing again, so much so that the kids have a snow day and may be going to school in July. Clementine the dog has remembered that she loves snow with all her heart. The adults around her don't love it quite so fervently. Still, there are signs of spring. On Sunday, we'll lose an hour but gain an hour of light. And I'm not sure what these yellow blossoms poking through are, but they're a hopeful sight among all that white. Have a wonderful weekend, whatever your weather.

The Language of Flowers

I promise that there are books I read that I don't write about, and some I don't like enough even to finish. I just happen to have read three recently that I've loved. First there was this, and then this, and I've just finished The Language of Flowers, by Vanessa Diffenbaugh.

Because of the subject matter, it's not an easy book to read, and the main character, Victoria Jones, is not always easy to like. The book begins on her 18th birthday, when she becomes "emancipated" from the foster-care system. She is completely alone (and thinks she likes it that way), with little hope of finding a way to support herself. She has one thing working in her favor, though, and that's her gift with flowers. She once had a foster mother who loved her and wanted to adopt her, and this woman, Elizabeth, taught her what each flower stands for - for example, Lavender, mistrust; Magnolia, dignity; Myrtle, love.

Victoria does find a job and, with it, a purpose, but the past haunts her. She makes terrible choices, and you want to shake her even as you root for her. At the center of it all is the long-ago relationship between Victoria and Elizabeth, which unfolds over the course of the book. Their connection is poignant and heartbreaking, like the few other relationships Victoria tentatively forms. There are ups and downs until the very end, but it's so worth reading to get there.

A good response

I imagine there have been hundreds of articles written on the subject of people being rude online. In Sunday's New York Times, for instance, there was an opinion piece about how "nasty" comments by readers affect how other readers interpret a story.

I'd been thinking a bit about reader comments, even before I read the Times article. One of the blogs I read regularly is written by a husband and wife renovating a home. I also follow them on Instagram, and most of the photos they post there are related to their house project.

Twice recently, after this couple posted photos, someone said something unkind. Not the sort of nastiness the Times was talking about, but not very nice. And each time, other readers jumped to the bloggers' defense. They didn't like what was said and seemed to feel protective of the bloggers.

The comments went on and on, back and forth. And then, both times - and this is the whole reason for this story; you knew I'd get there eventually! - the bloggers responded, but rather than being even the slightest bit defensive, they defused the situation by being funny, gracious, and kind. If they were offended by any of it, they didn't let on. And that was that.

I thought about how easy it would have been for this couple to react, even just a little bit, or perhaps make a point by staying silent. But that's not what they did, and that made all the difference. A good reminder for this mother, brand new blogger, wife, friend, neighbor, and sometimes reactor.

Photo by Jennifer Green

Sleepover

My two daughters love sleepovers with all their hearts (the younger is just getting started). They would have a friend or 10 sleep with them every night if they could. Of course they can't, especially with a mother who doesn't quite share their passion. I'm a fan of a good night's sleep and an advocate of beds, preferably one's own.

So there's always a tiny sense of worry on my part when a sleepover is coming up. But then - every single time - it's just fine. It's fine even when it's not fine, if that makes any sense at all. Even when a child has to go home in the middle of the night. Even when another child can't sleep. Even when all children are up at an ungodly hour of the morning. It's still OK. Everyone will sleep well the next night. Last night's popcorn will be vacuumed from the couch cushions. Everyone will have had a good time. Why I can't remember that beforehand, I don't know.

But then, the other night, I was reminded. It was late, and I was turning off lights and locking doors when it occurred to me there was someone asleep in every part of the house: one daughter and a friend in the basement; the dog in the family room; my son and another daughter upstairs in their rooms; and my husband in our room. At the risk of sounding like a big sap, it made me happy. It was a nice moment. And I didn't even mind the sound of four feet tearing up the stairs very, very early the next morning.

Photo by Simply Seleta

The Secret Keeper

If you haven't yet read The Secret Keeper by Kate Morton, you must. I've been known to exaggerate how good a book is, but this one really is. When I was a little more than halfway through, I told a friend who had read it that I wasn't sure I wanted to continue. It was at a perfect point in the story, and I was feeling panicky it would end badly. She told me to keep reading.

"The Secret Keeper" is about three friends in London during World War II and then later in the 1960s and again in 2011. It's historical fiction, a murder mystery, and a love story. But it's also about family, friendship, marriage, and the secrets people carry. As you read, you may find yourself going back to reread certain sections. Possibly the entire book.

Bits and pieces

It's been a bit of a crazy day (really just a crazy afternoon). But I'm looking forward to the weekend and hope you have something fun planned. After spending some time online yesterday, I came across two new-to-me stores you might like.

I went a little crazy buying sticky notes and pads of paper from Poppin. I even got a new wall clock for our laundry room. Love all the orange and white in particular.

I'm always running out of return-address labels, and though I could print my own, I fell for these personalized stamps from The Penny Paper Co. The store's owner, Lindsay Stephenson, also has a fun design blog called Little House Blog. 

Have a happy weekend!