Creature Bug

Oh, Spring! Where Art Thou?

My brother-in-law called the other day and told me it was 80 degrees in Rhode Island. It's so unfair. It's not even close to 80 degrees here. In fact, on Saturday the coldest place in the 48-continental states? Redmond, Oregon. Oregon is definitely not the place to be this week for spring weather.

Today was my last day of teaching classes (hello summer vacation!), and when class ended, my students had to wander out into the pouring down rain as I called after them, "Have a good summer!" They didn't think that was very funny.

I'm not the only one who thinks it's too cold around here. A little visitor this morning confirmed my suspicions that, despite it nearing the end of April, it is far too cold outside.

Hello there, little bird! Come to try on Sydney's winter boots?

What's that? You had other ideas for the boots?

Yes, they are quite warm! Why do you ask?

Oh, I totally understand. Take all you need.

*sigh* Hang in there. I'm sure warmer weather is right around the corner.

Happy summer vacation to me!

*****

(c) Creature Bug 2008. All rights reserved.

Week 204: Springing Tulips

For the fourth year in a row, Sarah and I took the girls to the Wooden Shoe Tulip Farm. Per tradition, I got lost on the way there. I was totally NOT going to get lost this year. I had written down directions and had a little compass on the dashboard. In fact, I was going to leave early to make sure that I not only wouldn't get lost, but I also wouldn't be late, like I am every year.

I don't know why I bother with such optimism. I still managed to turn a 35-minute drive into a 70-minute drive. Next year...I promise, Sarah. I absolutely won't get lost. (See. There's that optimism again. I can't help myself.)

And despite the fact that Saturday and Sunday brought us weather that looked like this:

   

Fortunately, our excursion to the tulips a couple days earlier looked a lot more like this:

As sure as winter turns into spring (and then, for spite, might turn back into winter again), we go to the tulip farm. It's so much a part of our springtime adventures, I can't imagine not going with Sarah. Back in 2005, when Sarah and I first took the girls to the tulip farm, they were barely walking.

(2005)

They were, in short, quite easy to photograph. We'd plant them next to a tulip, take a picture, and voila! The perfect picture. In case you don't know, it's easy to take pictures of slow moving children.

Then, the next year--at almost 2 years old--they were moving along at full force. They found every mud puddle, every flower, every smidgen of springtime to be fabulous and amazing. Running, splashing, smooshing the tulips.

(2006)

We two pregnant mommies wondered how we would handle the next year.

But we did.

(2007)

My most vivid memory of last year is taking pictures of Sydney, while I walked down the tulip rows, holding my camera in one hand, and Julianne--as she was nursing--in the other. Totally. How can tulips not be my favorite flower after that? They mark my triumph of multi-tasking.

2008...

This year was a whirlwind trip since I had to teach in the afternoon, which meant the morning had to be snappy. Take the pictures. No time for tantrums. Just enough time for trips down tulip aisles and the slide. Snacks and sippy cups in the car.

Well, okay. Time enough for one tantrum. But that's it.

I find that each year, I have progressively more shots of the girls from behind them. I run to catch up, and hope to snap a glimpse of their face, but they run faster. How is it that these girls can outrun me? Me, nimble as a deer.

 

At least, as nimble as a deer can be with a camera and a baby to haul around. That would be an Olympic event I'd pay to see. Mothers, cameras, babies, sippy cups hanging off their back pockets...sprinting toward the finish line. On second thought, that could be kind of dangerous. Nevermind.

No matter how we handle it, though, we get them there and we always have fun. At the very least, it's such an interesting little experiment to see how little people and little mommies grow up over the course of four years. Plus, tulips make for a fabulous backdrop, no matter what we're photographing. Four little cousins: Julianne and Sydney, Toby and Clover. A tromping, romping, running, laughing, toddlering, mothering, sunrainsnowmudpuddle tradition.

It wouldn't be spring without it.

*****

(c) Creature Bug 2008. All rights reserved.

Leaving What We Love

I've been a bit down this week. I suppose some of it is residual sadness from those handful of mean comments I got last week. It's not like it really bothers me or that I think about it all the time, only that it hurt my feelings. That small piece of sadness wandered over to my general state of being and resurfaced each day during particularly chaotic moments. As you probably know, sadness doesn't provide any kind of strength to get through chaotic moments. Instead, it pretty much leaves you in tears.

Adding to all this is the realization that it would be better to put our house up for sale sooner rather than later. We had planned on living here until the end of next school year, but with the housing market like it is--and the importance of selling our house before the construction ends on our new house--I think we've come to the decision that August will find us with a For Sale sign in our yard. This August. One hundred days from now.

I'm not ready for this to be my last spring living in Oregon.

 

Of course, I'll still be working in Oregon because no matter where we're living I'm teaching all next year, so every Tuesday and Thursday will find me back in town. But all week long I've been thinking about leaving my town, my home, my friends, my church...oh dear, I need to go find a kleenex.

I had this great idea a few days ago to take lots of pictures of the area throughout the next year, and then create an Our Last Year in Oregon photo album. I was going to start in May, but considering that our year may be shortened a bit--though on the upside/downside, it might take forever to sell our house and we'll still have a full year left in Oregon--I figured I needed to get started right away.

We headed downtown today to get some pictures of the cherry trees, although they are definitely past their prime bloom stage. Nevertheless, being outside in a large expanse of grass is actually very good for the soul.

There's lots of room to twirl around, take deep breaths, laugh at the crazy squirrels.

I told Jason I want to get this same kind of flowering cherry tree (it's some particular variety from Japan) and plant it at our new house, so that every time it bloomed I would be reminded of our Oregon home. He thinks that's kind of cheesy.

But I'm pretty sure the Gold Man thinks my idea is brilliant.

I'm not saying my goodbyes yet, mind you. We still have lots of living to do around these parts.

It's just that, gosh, I love this town. And leaving it is going to be really really hard, and that's something that hit me particularly hard this week. Of course, I'm not saying I'm not excited about building our dream house, on property, surrounded by our family. I'm not saying that at all.

However, the truth is even when there's something amazing up ahead, it doesn't diminish how much love you have for where you are and how hard it will be to leave that.

How very hard it will be, indeed.

*****

(c) Creature Bug 2008. All rights reserved.