scenes from the weekend

Is it Tuesday already? We had such a lovely, restful time with friends and family over the past few days that I'm in perpetual Sunday mode. Gabriel is napping, Frances is off basking in the attentions of her grandparents (where we left her this morning), and Mike is dutifully painting our bedroom a deep, peaceful shade of indigo. The one thing interrupting my Sunday morning feeling is the mysterious, disturbing animal-like scent that greeted us when we walked back in the door of our home this afternoon. The flashlight is resting just next to the keyboard, waiting for me to pick it up and do a thorough investigation of the basement. I'm not ashamed to tell you that I'm afraid of what I might find.

So instead? A few scenes from our stretched-out weekend:

Playing at a small fountain in Philadelphia, adjacent to a farmer's market that was bursting with beautiful people and beautiful food. It was hot as heck.

Only the promise of water ice could entice my children to walk many city blocks in the heat with nary a whine...that, and the presence of our buoyant, light-hearted friend Amelia.

Oh yes indeed.

Book lovers in matching braids. They both indulged me; I couldn't keep my fingers out of all that hair.

Since adults are less tolerant of cameras snapping away during life's finer moments, I failed to document a very satisfying (company-wise, but also food-wise) reunion dinner with an old friend, during which I was able to meet his new wife and enjoy old rhythms of conversation; an afternoon with Ann Marie and another beloved friend Jessica, furiously talking away while the other adults and all the children napped, scattered throughout the house; and an early morning walk through quiet city streets to fetch syrup for pancakes, immersing myself in that delicious city feeling, breathing in urban energy that lay momentarily dormant, soon to waken and buzz all over again.

We headed to Wilmington to visit with Mike's family next, and were happily surprised to find my little blond niece and nephews waiting for us. The kids had a great time; I especially enjoyed sharing Shane and Zac's dinosaur books with all the children, exclaiming over a brightly illustrated stegosaurus or a particularly bloody tableau featuring hunting velociraptors. The passions of children are a joy to partake in, and I was grateful to Gabriel for preparing me for that moment.

And finally here we are, home again. Fresh zinnias on the table, a strange silence where Frances's voice is usually found. I'm relishing these August days, before everything speeds up all over again and a Tuesday afternoon never feels like a Sunday morning.

But I suppose it is Tuesday, and the weird stink isn't fading, despite my best efforts to ignore it. Ah well. Wish me luck, friends.