I would pick up a book with this illustration on the cover. That’s one of the ways a great illustrator affects us.
This school year, Paige’s art studio has been her tiny apartment kitchen, and some of her best working hours were well after midnight. Art takes an inspired artist time, work space, and supplies. I think it also takes a lot of courage.
You need a ride home from a friend’s house, but the back seat is full of old junk. And since it is almost midnight, you hold that enormous television or light fixture on your lap because you are out of options to get home.
You get shuffled from driver to driver.
You can drive, but your mom has to be with you.
You might not get a ride at all because your mom forgets to turn up her phone.
(I am feeling sorry today for Timothy and the realities of being fifteen.)
Chile Santiago West, August 7, Mexico MTC
Mark has decided to keep his art projects top secret. I am not even to ask the medium he is using in class. He rode his bike to art this week even though wind gusts were strong so he could keep the secret a little longer. This is a pretty large piece and he says he held it flat with both hands as he rode his bike through the wind. Now that is dedication to art and the concept of a dramatic presentation.
Tim is the first to get up in the morning at our house and the last to come home after school. Band and Frisbee take a lot of time, but he is still a straight-A student. He is amazing.
I hope his date, “Mary Poppins” had as much fun preparing her costume as we had preparing Daniel’s.
10:30 pm Sunday night. I am recovering well from a hand laceration. Richard still has no energy after the flu. The boys play trumpet and piano while we rest.
Last Sunday Timothy gave a talk in church with 30 minutes to prepare. He did so well!
Timothy and Mark played in a piano recital on Tuesday night.
It was a good week to be a parent.
Daniel advanced to a regional level in the Sterling scholar competition.
Daniel was named a National Merit Finalist.
Paige began work towards a summer internship in New York.
I finished hand-quilting my international doll quilt. I will finish the binding some other day.
Richard and I watched the John Adams miniseries, except when my eyes were closed during the violence and 18th century surgeries.
We watched Wonder. Tears streamed freely for me.
I can’t type this week as my hand heals, so this is it for a while.
This is the robot in progress.
He has a job as a clerk for a company related to construction. He has saved almost enough money for his mission.
He plays the piano in a stream of consciousness, blending melodies from different pieces, without music, late at night.
These are just a few of the things I admire about Daniel.
Sahuarita, AZ, 2008
During July and August, Arizona enjoys a monsoon season, with thunderstorms almost every day. With the storms came puddles, thunder so loud it would set off our smoke alarms, and flooding on the road. After a storm, the cactus blossoms would erupt in brilliant colors, and the Colorado River toads would make their annual appearance.
Pea soup green, bloated, ground-hugging, with rufous lumps, these toads would emerge from hibernation in the rains. We found them in the roads at night during the rains and sometimes they were flattened like pancakes in front of our house, run over by a passing car. The largest ones were the size of a large man’s fist, and when flattened, were a spectacular 8-10 inches in diameter. We also found them on our front porch at night, attracted by the porch light, hunkered down in corners, waiting for bugs. They have poison glands, so we kept the dog away and didn’t handle them.
The summer of 2008 was an especially good year for toads. We noticed the same toads came out each evening. The kids learned their sizes and markings and named some of them. Camouflage, Jumping Jack, Mongo, Toady, Spot, Camouflage Jr., and Teeny were some of their names. Sometimes the kids would catch insects and place them right in front of the toads. Zap! The ponderous toads’ tongues were quick to capture them.
There was a perpetual puddle on the west side of our house in July which teemed with baby toads, smaller than the size of dimes. We let the kids scoop them up and put them in Timothy’s screened insect carrier. Climbing and hopping with tiny legs, these toads were a delight to all of the neighbor children. One neighbor, however, was not thrilled to have so many poisonous toads near his house, and watched our kids and his daughter collect baby toads one night and convinced the boys to walk up the street with him to release them at the park.
We never saw a summer with toads quite like this one again. We traveled and had other adventures that season, but the simple memories of the little boys with their flashlights playing with their toads are clearer in my mind. It fits the familiar pattern of family memory; the tiny memories rise up over the bigger occasions to mean the most.