Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Assimilating to the Culture

Who knew it would be so easy to become cowgirls?

Those are Wrangler jeans, sparkly blue cowboy boots, and a real cowboy hat. And a pink fluffy pony.
On a tractor in a Snow White dress. Why not?

Saturday, August 10, 2013

Family Pictures

I realize most people who read this blog were there on the day these pictures were taken, but I still want to share them because, thanks to Amy, they turned out so beautifully!

Thursday, August 8, 2013

A Flash of Life

A few nights before we left England, I painted my fingernails. We were going out with friends. The thing I thought as I was spreading the red across my nails was, I wonder how different my life will feel when only some small specks of this red remain on my fingers.

I can tell you, I feel like I've been abruptly wakened from a year-long dream; and the remaining untidy flecks of red paint on my nails feel like the only concrete proof that it all really happened. We spent the first couple of weeks after our return in my childhood home. And though some things changed, not much has changed. It felt like we never left, and yet there is now this place in my memory that is full to the brim with unbelievable sights, places, people, and it feels like it got there in a flash. A flash of life that is behind us now.

We spent a flurried week catching up with what felt like every person I've ever known. A constant stream of visiting and activities. Then we loaded up and drove to Idaho. It is all a big transition. Roo is learning the in's and out's of a small business, while up at the house, we girls tromp around in boots and shorts, we rarely do our hair; makeup is minimal. We play with dogs and ride tractors in the sunshine. I almost want to hear country music. Almost.

Transitions are always difficult; and it can be overwhelming to refashion a daily routine, and scary to settle into one. I take one day at a time because when I think about the future, it is a question mark. 

From where I sit, the view is spectacular. I'm watching an evening rainstorm across the hills and valley below us. The rain and clouds are dramatic and evolving, unlike an English drizzle. The fields and trees, the dirt road, are all a shade darker than before, the rain having tempered the layer of late summer dust that coats everything.