RESTING WITHOUT SLEEPING

 
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Yesterday I knelt at the kitchen window and watched two male gold finches, each perched on his own sunflower, pulling out seeds one by one and de-shelling them with their beaks to reveal, and swallow, the seed inside. It was a marvelous display of nature’s finery. As for me, it was a blessed few minutes of resting without sleeping. Do you do this? Rest without sleep? It’s one thing to lie on the sofa and close your eyes, even if you know you will not sleep. This is effective . . . if your brain is not racing and pinging back and forth with myriad thoughts, like a mouse in a cupboard — Hi hello, that’s me! A more restful approach, for me anyway, has been focusing intently on something simple, like the gold finches. Another way I “rest” is by touching and rearranging the objects in Rosemary’s (and one day, Leo’s) room. While she colors or looks at books, I move things from here to there, there to here. Often I settle on the same arrangement as before. It’s a nice way to refresh my headspace and avoid something taxing or muddying, like doing the dishes or scrolling my phone.

In lieu of sleep, how do you like to rest? I would love to hear!

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For the inquisitive . . .

Here are a few of the sources for the objects in our child’s room. Each object holds special meaning, which is my best advice for creating an intentional room or display.

+ Wooden pastel rainbow.
+ Wooden guardian angel.
+ Wool pom wreath (sadly no longer available).
+ Saint peg dolls.
+ Saint Isidore icon.
+ Rosemary the cow & morel mushroom prints.


—S

CRYING, LAUGHING, KISSING, MARVELING

 

The best July of my life . . .

Was milk sweat and nipple sore. It was a toddler picking onion tops and a baby opening his eyes. It was no sleep and yes, coffee. Walks about town and a singular visit to the grocery store. July was Bob Marley, Erykah Badu and D’Angelo filling the house. It was the newborn dance of rock and sway, rock and sway. It was dad falling deeper in love with daughter. Sunflowers unfurling in the side yard, in the backyard, in the garden beds; Flowers, generally. Mosquito bites and supper in a blue dining room. It was crying, all of us. Crying, laughing, kissing, marveling.
July was growing a family.


—S

JULY SON

 
birth announcement by samantha spigos

On the most beautiful, warm July the 8th, and after an incredibly peaceful labor at home, we welcomed a son. Four days late and in the afternoon four o’ clock hour — just like his big sister — Leo Ioannis was born 9 pounds, 6 ounces.

And just like that, the tiny-ness of this boy has transformed our home and expanded our hearts in a way that is anything but tiny. Thank you for sharing in our love and joy.


—M&S

A POEM FOR YOU, FOR ME, FOR JUNE

 
daughter in a garden by samantha spigos
daughter in a garden by samantha spigos

" Oh, summer has clothed the earth
In a cloak from the loom of the sun!
And a mantle, too, of the skies' soft blue,
And a belt where the rivers run.
And now for the kiss of the wind,
And the touch of the air's soft hands,
With the rest from strife and the heat of life,
With the freedom of lakes and lands.

daughter in a garden by samantha spigos

I envy the farmer's boy
Who sings as he follows the plow;
While the shining green of the young blades lean
To the breezes that cool his brow.

He sings to the dewy morn,
No thought of another's ear;
But the song he sings is a chant for kings
And the whole wide world to hear.

He sings of the joys of life,
Of the pleasures of work and rest,
From an o'erfull heart,
without aim or art;
'T is a song of the merriest.

daughter in a garden by samantha spigos

O ye who toil in the town,
And ye who moil in the mart,
Hear the artless song,
and your faith made strong
Shall renew your joy of heart.

Oh, poor were the worth of the world
If never a song were heard,—
If the sting of grief had no relief,
And never a heart were stirred.

So, long as the streams run down,
And as long as the robins trill,
Let us taunt old Care with a merry air,
And sing in the face of ill. ”

“In Summer”

— Paul Laurence Dunbar

daughter in a garden by samantha spigos

—S