Learning to be Astonished.

-the meaningful glow-

I am 36 and this week I squealed over a monarch caterpillar in my garden.

Not just one, I discovered, but over 10.

My two younger children, playing nearby, lifted their heads momentarily before returning to construction sites in the pile of dirt we never really finished putting…anywhere.

I run quickly inside to retrieve my oldest, enjoying the quiet time in the house without the calamity of his siblings.

“Roan!” I could barely get the word out. “Caterpillars! So many caterpillars on the milkweed! Put on your shoes.”

Anyone who knows my son understands putting on his shoes is a process. It can take a couple of minutes, it can take ten or more. Thankfully this time it was the former. He carefully places his green baseball cap on and runs, the sweet way he does with his elbows sticking out, behind me.

Carefully we crouch by one of the many milkweed plants that have taken over my garden. (Note to self and others who have a green/pale yellow thumb - common milkweed is more for borders and places it can go wild, not a contained space. It is relentless and will spread itself out happily. Oops.)

He knows by now to avoid the poisonous white sap where the caterpillars have been crunching. Ever so gently, he lifts a leaf and we check its underside. His astonishment is audible as we find each little being, some barely visible they are so tiny, and others large and happy, their front filaments sticking up like a cartoon.

Earlier in the summer, the plants had been taken over by aphids and ants, many of which didn’t survive. This new crop of late summer growth has given them another chance.

They are eager to to take advantage, hungry to live.

To float and soar on the breeze.

To answer the invitation of the skies.

To be nourished.

To know what it is to shift into something, into someone, you never thought possible,

and to love her.

---

I sit with him, learning to be astonished, too.

All of this - the caterpillars. My son's dimpled cheeks with the John-boy birth mark beside me. The muddied toes I will surely have to bathe before it's even lunchtime. The wrinkles that linger around my eyes and in my cheeks after I smile. The first bite into a warm loaf of sourdough. Smiles I share with my husband over our children and our stolen, remind me who you are kisses in the kitchen. Opening windows in the house from top to bottom.

Feeling autumn whispers against my skin.

Being still, watching the leaves slowly changing their colors one or two at a time as if to say,

“It can’t wait any longer. Here we are.”

It can’t wait any longer.

Here I am.

---

---

life with littles

I am not a crafty person in the sense of loving to scrapbook or set out an activity with an end goal. This was something very easy and affordable that we enjoyed making this week. Have wipes handy. All you need is a paper towel tube (I cut one in half), string or yarn, nut butter, and bird seed. We tied the string, spread the peanut butter, rolled it in the seeds on a paper plate, and then hung it in our backyard.

Squirrels surely got to it and had a delightfully unexpected feast.

This is usually what our creative time looks like: I give them a bunch of random materials, and let them go. My backyard is never tidy, and I’m okay with that.

---

reading/listening/learning

This week has felt so full. As a social introvert, I can put myself out there and do things, but I desperately crave the reprieve of no plans and a day at home.

Thanks to snotty kids, we’ve been at home all week.

Still, somehow Sean and I managed to make it a Foo Fighters concert locally - and it was the busiest I have EVER seen that venue. We didn’t even make it to the end because of the anxiety of how long it would take us to leave. (I guess we really are getting old. No shame there, folks.) I did manage to introduce my oldest to the song Everlong in the van, however, and while I drummed on the steering wheel, he took care of air guitar in the back with an excellent rock out face. I was so proud.

I recorded two more chapters in my practice audiobook, began publisher reachouts, attended other audiobook related events, and my brain feels like it’s on fire - but I’m grateful for every second of this life. Even the hard bits.

---

Let us keep our minds on what matters. Let us learn to be still, astonished.

I would love to know what astonishes you this week. Please share in the comments or in the chat thread I will be starting.

Thank you for being here.

Warmly,

Jess