Just spent four days in Syracuse to attend a loved one’s memorial service. I am pretty weary. We made little excursions to favorite places, and I saw some of my most favorite people, but really, I am just sad and tired.

In late winter we huddled around a Baker Creek seed catalogue and considered each variety. They ordered whatever struck their fancy. At sowing time they pushed the seeds into whatever corner of the raised bed felt right–their harried mama was in full surrender mode and did not pay attention to bush versus climber, big versus little, high versus low. The result? Jungle. I mean serious jungle chaos. ...

More music on our front steps. The kids played hide and seek in the dark spaces between the buildings. One nearby door slowly opened a crack, an unseen man or woman probably peering out to pinpoint the source of the sound. I sat on my stool, listened, swatted away mosquitos. My neighbors’ television sets cast strobing stripes of light on their front lawns.

Sunday afternoon I watched this short film about a life with singular purpose. His goal was to recreate a flavor from his childhood, and in the process he crafted a unique place for himself in this world. He sleeps in a tiny cabin built on the roof of his business, writes ideas and plans into little notebooks, carves away fins with surgical precision. I ache to carve away excess in my life, to find my singular purpose.

Our house is featured in the July 2013 online issue of Ikea Family Live Magazine, a digital publication of Inter IKEA Systems B.V. The mag’s editor Helen reached out to me via email and asked if we’d like to be featured. When I accepted, she sent me a digital package containing photo guidelines, interview questions and FTP instructions. I styled our place myself. I used my Canon Rebel XT and my 18-55mm kit lens to take the shots, used my free Gimp download to gently edit the shots, and used my brain and rusty writing voice to craft some explanation of the crazy that is our place. And our place is crazy, make no mistake. ...

We took a walk after dinner Friday evening, following mossy trails to the playground. I admit to doing a little climbing, a little playing, but only as much as becomes a forty year-old. At the end of our walk, we approached our front steps. Fireflies twinkled all around the concrete and the grasses, but only at our house. We were chosen. I lit them a candle to keep them company.

This early summertime has been lovely. Some notes: We waited with bated breath for cicadas to visit, but in the end had to settle for finding a few husks out at a friend’s place in Haymarket. My kids were the very first people in our community pool on the Friday before Memorial Day. It was 54 degrees outside. We three went strawberry picking, our first time ever. My first time ever. There is no thing sweeter than a freshly-picked, ripe, red strawberry. Except for maybe a ripe and juicy peach. ...

https://youtube.com/watch?v=https://www.youtube-nocookie.com/embed/VaDTv4mP2j4 The fourth downpour of the day outside my home office window. I am a lead writer on a proposal due soon, so most of my words are aimed at my work life right now.

I have tons of soft, sweet clover growing all over my backyard and I and refuse to cut it short or spray it with herbicides. I just can’t do it. I often sit on a bar stool in my kitchen and watch the bunnies and birds hang out. The bunnies chow on the flowers and the birds look for worms near my de facto/illicit compost pile. On warm spring evenings, our neighbor carries his huge bass across the driveway and plants it in the front yard. His little ones often follow him over. We grab the sidewalk chalk and whatever instruments are handy and then we jam. People dance, people draw, people come out and stare. ...