As predicted, the record player is getting a real workout. What is surprising–but probably should not be knowing this boy and girl of mine–is that most every selection they make is classical. I’ve raised them on a steady diet of jazz, classic rock, and cheesy 70’s love songs, but there is no denying their visceral hunger for strings, piano, brass. Mozart was his choice one afternoon this week, and the sounds of the quintet filled the first floor of our house.
I rearranged the living room this weekend and made a spot for the turntable we bought two years ago. It had been about 20 years since I’d actually listened to any of my records, so I spent this afternoon with Wings, Led Zeppelin, Roxy Music, Blind Faith. I’m looking forward to digging into the Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, and Haydn from my husband’s extensive LP collection.
I’m staying cocooned in my home this week, working through each little pain and complication of last week’s surgery. The pain brings clarity of focus, and I find myself considering small details, like the banding on this teeny hand-thrown vase, for long moments.
I hear giggles mixed with serious discussion drifting up the stairs to my sick bed. I haul myself to standing, hobble to my camera, and tiptoe down the open stairs to see exactly how this day of their summer vacation is starting.
I can’t describe what a joy it is to have a son. This bedroom of his speaks volumes about the person he’s becoming…if you can read the clues.
I wanted to sleep through this very grey and rainy day in Virginia last week. Instead I stared at the green of this cutting and imagined spring.
It was slippery outside this morning, too slippery to run. I made maple oatmeal scones instead. We sipped coffee and read about dinosaurs, then I retreated to the home office to begin my day.
This is my office away from the office. Wooden bowls on my windowsill hold treasures gathered and formed by little hands.
We have many nests in our home. They are filled with rocks, shells, eggs, toys, and husks. The cicada husk reminds me of one hot summer in Virginia when my daughter was small and the cicadas flew thick and loud. I found the fuzzy bee body on the back deck one fall morning, but I haven’t had the time to figure out its species.
One packing problem specific to LP owners: I keep getting distracted by all the eye candy. I’m a sucker for album art. Check out the LPCover Lover blog for more awesome album covers.