Today is Noah's first birthday! Last year at this time I was laying in a hospital bed wondering if he was ever going to come out. Now, he's sitting behind me tugging on my hair and laughing. It amazes me that when you stop to look back long enough, time, in my opinion, moves faster than the speed of light.
Developmentally speaking he has made leaps and bounds in this last year. His "bop-bop-bop" sounds are slowly being replaced with "ma-ma" and "da- da- da- dada." He is now taking tentative steps, pushing his own boundaries climbing up on stuff then tumbling down. And then there is Lucas.
He's coloring now. Big deal right? Well, he's looking at a truck picture he's coloring and said that the truck had pizza wheels. What? I looked at the picture and noticed that the wheels' rims looked remarkably, like pizzas. "That's silly huh Mommy," Lucas asked me. "Yes, yes it is," I told him.
Moments like these remind me just how fast it all goes and that there is no rewinding. So, although Noah is still willing to cuddle mommy and bang on everything for entertainment, I know that these days wont be long. I'm going to treasure everyone of them. Happy birthday Noah Bear.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Friday, August 14, 2009
Living pictures
I almost broke Thornton Waldo Burgess yesterday, in his home no-less. He presides on the wall of the staircase in the Deacon Eldred house in Sandwich where I work. I had just finished putting together some things and had boxs to get rid of and decided to at least get them upstairs out of the way. The narrow staircase does not leave much room for navigation and so I bumped poor Mr. Burgess with the box. He swayed to and fro and finally came to an uneven balance on his hanging wire. I threw the box to the ground and stablized him just before he fell down the stairs. He is such an old painting in an old frame I was trembling with the thought of what might happen if he did take the tumble.
While I logically understand he's been dead for 44 years, sometimes I fancy myself at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry where photographs actually house life.
Silly.
But have you ever been to an old house or museum and read plaques, gazed at historical photos or seen a persons personal effects that caused you to stop and think what it might have actually been like in that very same room many, many years ago? It's much like that.
The museum is dedicated to remembering him. Photographs of the native Sandwich son adorn the walls, houses he lived in, relatives, there is even a pair of his glasses in a case. Of course the children come in for the books about Peter Rabbit and all the other animals Thornton dreamed up. But what I like most about the house is the way it feels to be in it, as I eluded to previously.
The walls are plaster, (a royal pain when you are trying to mount something) the floors are old wood boards and creak even in the slightest breeze, the ceilings are low and if you are claustrophobic you might not last in there long. But somehow the place just feels warm. It's almost as if the small rooms and the low ceilings, were designed to bring everything in together. Smush it 'till it fits. But what I think what I like most about the house is that time hasn't changed it too much.
Driving around now and seeing what once were little Cape's or Saltbox's that are now McMansions destroying the natural beauty all around it breaks my heart. Eye soars, sure, but really, do we need all that? Being in this home that is nothing spectacular on the outside and certainly not modern on the inside creates a feeling for me of a time when things were simpler. Standing in the house looking out I almost expect to see a horse and buggy go by.
So now when I make my way up and down his staircase I try to stop and pay homage to the man who treasured the simple things in life and fought to preserve natural beauty. (Well, at the very least, I give him a little head nod, just in case.)
While I logically understand he's been dead for 44 years, sometimes I fancy myself at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry where photographs actually house life.
Silly.
But have you ever been to an old house or museum and read plaques, gazed at historical photos or seen a persons personal effects that caused you to stop and think what it might have actually been like in that very same room many, many years ago? It's much like that.
The museum is dedicated to remembering him. Photographs of the native Sandwich son adorn the walls, houses he lived in, relatives, there is even a pair of his glasses in a case. Of course the children come in for the books about Peter Rabbit and all the other animals Thornton dreamed up. But what I like most about the house is the way it feels to be in it, as I eluded to previously.
The walls are plaster, (a royal pain when you are trying to mount something) the floors are old wood boards and creak even in the slightest breeze, the ceilings are low and if you are claustrophobic you might not last in there long. But somehow the place just feels warm. It's almost as if the small rooms and the low ceilings, were designed to bring everything in together. Smush it 'till it fits. But what I think what I like most about the house is that time hasn't changed it too much.
Driving around now and seeing what once were little Cape's or Saltbox's that are now McMansions destroying the natural beauty all around it breaks my heart. Eye soars, sure, but really, do we need all that? Being in this home that is nothing spectacular on the outside and certainly not modern on the inside creates a feeling for me of a time when things were simpler. Standing in the house looking out I almost expect to see a horse and buggy go by.
So now when I make my way up and down his staircase I try to stop and pay homage to the man who treasured the simple things in life and fought to preserve natural beauty. (Well, at the very least, I give him a little head nod, just in case.)
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