Nature or Bust

Summer is finally here (knock on wood), so I am really stoked to show Roland all of its greatness. Especially since he is a Winter baby and this is his very first Summer ever.

We are trying to do a ton of hiking and general exploration (insert “How I Met Your Mother” General Exploration salute) this Summer. So today we went out into the woods and made it pretty far, considering it was 77 degrees out (and felt like way more). I tried to get a shot of us after our hike, but it was a tricky angle for the timer. Just moments after this was taken some adorable old women came up to us to offer us some bug spray, since apparently the ticks are really bad this year. I didn’t have the heart to tell them how terrified I am of putting chemicals on babies, so I accepted a spray and we were on our way. They seemed like a very pious group of old women (potentially Catholic) and I always trust pious groups of old women, especially if they are Catholic.

Summer is the very best.

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Emily Dickinson Gets it Right

There is an Emily Dickinson poem called “Bee! I’m expecting you!”

Somewhere around my due date I was organizing all of Roland’s new books and I happened upon it.  I recall being big and impatient at the time (that was my rapper name).

Anyway, I read the poem and couldn’t get over how approrpriate it was to my current state. What were the chances I would read this poem about a bee being “expect[ed],” and “due” so close to the due date of my own little creature?  In fact, the first two stanzas of the poem were almost verbatim what I had been saying to my son over the past few days.

HEY, I’M EXPECTING YOU!

So, of course, like the millennial I am, I took a photo of it and posted it on Instagram with the caption “A perfect poem from the poetry book Auntie Niki got us.”

But at the time I didn’t actually realize just how perfect this poem was for us.

found this poem again this morning in yet another children’s poetry book (are children a huge part of the Dickinson demographic?).  When I read the last stanza I was nearly dumbfounded.

You’ll get my Letter by

The seventeenth; Reply

Or better, be with me–

Yours, Fly.

And what was it that happened on the 17th of December? Oh right, my little “bee” got “my letter” and chose the latter.

And I couldn’t be happier.

Fly.

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