Catching Up as Summer Fast Approaches

We are down to about a week-and-a-half until we head up north for the summer, to manage our Vrbo rental on the lake, enjoy our pontoon boat, and reconnect with different family members on both sides who still live in the area where we grew up.  It's always a very bittersweet time of year for me, because I do love it up there, and why wouldn't I?  It's where my husband and I are from, and where our story began, way back in high school.  He spent his childhood with the lake in his back yard, and his boyhood home is where we stay while we're taking care of our Oyster Haven lake house just down the road.  Aside from being an idyllic place to spend the summer, being up there gets us away from the brutal VA heat during the hottest months of the year.  By the time we return around Labor Day, it's becoming bearable down here again. Then of course there's also the week we set aside at our rental for our own family's use.  All 35 of us will be spending the first week in July at Oyster Haven.  So I'm excited to get up there and start preparing for that vacation week with our kids and grandkids, which we all look forward to all year long.

Yet...all that being said, it's always hard for me to leave this sweet little VA house, where our grandchildren love to gather, and to wave goodbye to the "VA Pearls"--that is, the three sons and their families who live near us down here.  Sometimes I feel quite happy about heading north, and other times a bit sad.  But two things can be true at once, as they say.  I wish, sometimes, that I could be in two places at once! (Actually, make that four places, because I'd like to always be near our other two sons and their families as well--the WI Pearls and the TN Pearls.)

There are always so many things going on at the end of the school year, so the weeks leading up to our departure are usually packed with activity.  Here's a brief recap of some of our goings-on.

Back near the end of May, the NCAA lacrosse tournament was held at nearby UVA, and we were able to watch Notre Dame play Syracuse in the semi-finals, along with three of our sons and seven of our grandchildren. It was a great day for the Irish, and they beat Syracuse handily and advanced to the final game.

A few days later, this same group returned to UVA with a few extra Pearls (a daughter-in-law and three more grandchildren) to watch the championship game, ND v. Princeton.  There was no "luck of the Irish" that day, to put it mildly.  I don't really want to talk about it.  Suffice it to say that Notre Dame did not win the championship this year!  But it was a fun day for the Pearls anyway.

The week before last, we were able to attend the adorable pre-K graduation of son #2's little guy, who is the 4th of his five sons.  He had been given the job of flag-bearer for the ceremony, and he was so proud!

Cap and gown for pre-K.  You're killing me, 
Smalls!  So, so cute.

A couple of days later, we attended the dance recital of two of our granddaughters (son #4's girls).  It was also quite adorable.

Last week, my husband drove up to NY to do some work at Oyster Haven before the busy rental season gets underway--such as getting the dock in and all the boats down from storage.  I stayed behind here in VA, because I had some babysitting to do, some birthday cakes to make for grandchildren, and some projects I wanted to complete before we close the house up for the summer.  After a particularly productive day, he sent this photo of our awesome private beach to the family text stream, and it got everyone excited for our week up there together.

One of the days that my husband was up in NY, the three VA sons (#2, #3, and #4) decided to meet for dinner, and our house is almost exactly halfway between the one who lives north of us and the two who live south.  They thought they might pick a restaurant in our town and have me meet them there (can you see why we picked this town when we decided to relocate back in 2017?), because they didn't want to overwhelm me with cooking duties.

Hello!  Do you boys not even know your own mother? I told them that if they wanted to go out for a treat, I totally understood.  And I also told them that if they wanted "brother time," I didn't need to join them for dinner, but maybe they could swing by here afterward to say hi before they all headed back home.  But they wanted me involved.  (Sniff...why am I so lucky?)  And in that case, I said I would be more than happy to cook for them, if they'd like to meet at our house.  They are the sweetest, and they are always so appreciative of home cooking.  So that's what ended up happening.  

To say that I was looking forward to this dinner is an understatement. Two days ahead of time, I'd already set the table, using some souvenir figurines that my husband brought back from overseas trips when he flew for the airlines (Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Julius Caesar, a Roman soldier, and a gladiator) to form a manly tablescape.  The three sons who were coming for dinner had all taken four years of Latin in high school and are huge fans of all things Ancient Greece and Rome, so I thought they'd like that.  I also set the table with my blue-and-white Spode "Rome" transferware plates.

I made buttery pork tenderloin, filet mignon, bacon, Caesar salad, and roasted asparagus.  And we had chocolate truffles for dessert.  I decided not to make any carbs for sides, and to refrain from baking a special dessert, because some of them are watching what they eat and I thought as long as there was plenty of meat, everyone would be happy.

Well, they were. One thing about sons, mamas: they really appreciate when Mom cooks for them!  The way to a man's heart really is through his stomach, as the saying goes.

I initially set five places for four people!  I guess that's because
on a normal night, my hubby would have been there.  
(Or maybe I'm just really bad at math?)

What a fun night.  We laughed--a lot!  I just adore my boys; they are truly the nicest, sweetest people, and they're so funny, too.  Afterward, when I told my husband all about this dinner, I said (for about the millionth time), "How lucky are we that we not only love our boys, but we really, really like them?"  In all the most important ways, they have made us so proud: they are loving sons and devoted husbands and fathers; they practice their faith and are passing it along to their children; they all married wonderful girls who share their faith and morals; they are honest, kind, humble, hardworking, and smart.  But they also make each other--and their dad and me--laugh, so much. They are honestly our favorite people to spend time with.

Those VA boys joked that Mom's three favorites were there that night, but as I've told them before, I have five favorites.  It's a five-way tie--it always was and always will be.

So that's what's been going on in our neck of the woods, as the school year winds down and summer fast approaches.  Stay cool, dear readers. 

Just a Picture, or the Meaning of Life?

I'm on a roll here, feeling exceedingly nostalgic about my childhood and getting a bit teary-eyed over grainy little snapshots from the 1960's, pictures so small and out of focus that you can barely recognize the people in them.  I shared one of these vintage photos in my last post, from the time of my First Holy Communion in 1966.  

Today, I'm sharing some pictures taken on my second birthday in 1960.

I mentioned in that last post that my mother was a prolific scrapbooker and photo album organizer, truly a memory keeper of the highest order (and that I am very much like her it that respect).  When she died, she left behind an extensive archive of family memories: countless photos, letters, cards, and various bits of memorabilia, dated and organized with care.  And finally about a year after Mom's passing, my youngest sister (with whom she lived for the last seven years of her life) took it upon herself to go through it all.  Binders and bins and boxes galore.   She tossed out what no one would want, took photos out of frames, and carefully took apart dozens of photo albums and scrapbooks so that she could divvy it all up with her four siblings.   It was a gargantuan undertaking, but she did an amazing job (which is par for the course for this sister), and she put together a big personalized treasure box for each of us (with the photos even organized in envelopes by year!).  We got back all the baby pictures, school pictures, and wedding pictures of our kids that we'd shared with our parents over the years, and any other photos in our mother's vast collection that would mean the most to each particular sibling.  It was just extraordinary what she did for us, I'll tell you.  I love this sister and admire her so.  She’s the youngest, but I think she’s the glue that holds us all together.

In the box my sister gave me last month, there was a page torn from one of my mother's scrapbooks, filled with black-and-white snapshots from my second birthday party. 

Apparently, there was a puppet show!  
And it looks like the whole neighborhood was invited!

I used my phone camera to zoom in on one of them, where I'm sitting on a blanket in the grass, with all the birthday party guests facing me.  I was a shy kid, and I don't think being the center of attention was a comfortable thing for me (in the almost 66 years since these pictures were taken, I haven't changed much!).   My mom was an extreme extrovert, always the biggest person in the room.  And while the apple doesn't fall far from the tree when it comes to hanging onto and organizing family mementos, it does fall pretty far from the tree when it comes to being the life of the party.  God did not give me my mother's big, engaging personality. If those kids wearing festive party hats were expecting some sort of cute show from the little birthday girl, I doubt they got it.

The shy introvert: "Why is everyone looking at me?"

My mom, the fun extrovert, entertaining the troops.

It's funny what happened to me when I saw these pictures, which have been tucked away amidst my mother's things for so long that I really can't remember ever seeing them before. I had a rather profoundly emotional reaction, if you want to know the truth.  And I'm not even sure I can adequately describe how and why I was so moved, but I'll try.

As I said, I was a rather shy and quiet little girl, cute enough surely (because all two-year-olds are inherently adorable, IMHO), but relatively unremarkable.  But seeing these photos, seeing myself as that little person, I was struck with feelings of immense gratitude that I'd even been born, that God had made me just the way He had, that He'd given me life at all.  My eyes filled with tears, thinking about how incredibly blessed my life has been since I turned two. What if I'd never been born, I thought, or if I'd contracted some terminal disease as a child?  What if I'd never gotten a chance to grow up?

If I'd never been that shy toddler, if I'd never been fortunate enough to stay healthy for 60-plus years beyond this little backyard birthday party, if we hadn’t left NJ and moved to upstate NY because my dad missed the area of the country where he’d spent his boyhood—if my life hadn't gone exactly as it had, I would never have met my husband (the best man I know), married him, and given birth to five sons whom I adore with every fiber of my being...not to mention that I wouldn't have 23 beloved grandchildren, precious souls made in God's image and likeness. As my mother-in-law always used to say, “You change one thing, you change everything.”  Every single piece of my life's puzzle, every turn in the road, led me to where I am.  And God’s plan for me has been better than I deserve and more perfect than I ever could have imagined.  Oh my goodness, looking at those old snapshots, I couldn't help thinking about how incredibly lucky I've been to have lived this wonderful life I've lived.  What a gift!

I know that you can't mourn the loss of something you never had (and that when you die as a child, innocent and unblemished, your chances of going right to Heaven are infinitely better than they are for a going-on-68-year-old!); but for some reason, these photos made me imagine all that I would have missed out on, if the little girl who was the reluctant star of the show in them had not been graced with such a long and happy life after this birthday party.

Do you do this, dear readers?  Are you reduced to tears by a simple photo sometimes, when suddenly its blurry images seem to hold the very meaning of life? Or is it just me?

Little did this wee birthday girl know the wonders
God had in store for her!

All I can say is this: thank you, God, for the gift of my life!

My string of Pearls.  ❤️

Four Recent First Communicants (and One from Long Ago, Too!)

Yesterday, on Mother's Day, four of our beloved grandchildren made their First Holy Communion together at an 11:30 Mass: son #4's triplets (identical twin boys and their sister) along with one of son #3's daughters (the middle child of his five).  They are all in second grade together at the same Catholic school; one of the boys is in the same class as his sister, and the other has his cousin as a classmate.  How great is it that these kids get to grow up together, go to school together, and receive the sacraments together?  To receive the Holy Eucharist for the very first time together?!  What a blessing it is, for them, and for all of us Pearls.

At the after-party, at son #3's house.

Speaking of Pearls: the names of the eight children who were making their First Holy Communion yesterday were listed via projector on the wall of the church before the Mass started; and how awesome it was to see that half of the kids on that list had the same last name.  None of my first cousins lived anywhere near us when I was growing up (there were only eight of them, all on my mother's side).  I can't get over how special it is that these eight Pearl cousins are neighbors and classmates, and they have five more Pearl cousins who live less than two hours away and with whom they get to spend time regularly.  (And thank goodness for our Vrbo lake house up in NY, where all 23 of our grandchildren get to spend a week together every summer!) 

I can't imagine what our life would be like if we hadn't had the courage to leave NH in 2017 and move down here. When we first got to VA, the four First Communicants were all still in their mothers' wombs. The triplets would be born shortly after our move, and their cousin a few months later.  We have literally watched them grow up; we've had front-row seats. And we got to watch them receive Our Lord for the first time yesterday--what an honor for their Papa and Grammy.

As their big day was approaching, I got all nostalgic and wanted to look for pictures of myself on the occasion of my First Holy Communion.  But unfortunately, very few of those exist.  I remember seeing one many years ago, a blurry black-and-white snapshot of me in my white dress and veil, standing in front of our house, holding a little white purse and the missal I'd received during my Catechism classes leading up to the sacrament...but I couldn't tell you where that picture is.  (I was at a public school then, and wouldn't start attending Catholic schools until mid-way through third grade; so I was in CCD classes for Communion prep.)  I do have one small color snapshot of me in my Communion dress, taken at a May Crowning ceremony where I had been given the honor of being crown bearer.  I have vague memories of being surrounded by much older kids, and from the looks of them in the photo, they were probably high-schoolers.

My mother was an archivist of family memories, a scrapbooker and photo album keeper; she saved every scrap of memorabilia imaginable (and the apple doesn't fall far from the tree when it comes to her eldest daughter--I am just like her in that respect!). So years ago, she passed this photo on to me along with the May Crowning program, stained and yellowed with age.  I love that she even saved that program!

My mother used to sew quite a bit, and she had made my dress herself.  It was cotton eyelet, an A-line number with short puffy sleeves, and it had an empire waist with a white velveteen ribbon around it, tied in a bow in back.  It was a fairly simple dress.  One of my memories from the day I made my First Communion was of another little girl in white in my First Communion class informing me, "You have the wrong kind of dress."  (I was a shy kid and I'm sure I said absolutely nothing in reply.)  I do remember looking around after she said that, at all the lace and tulle and long, full skirts, and thinking that my dress was indeed different than most of the others.  But because my mother had made it, I thought it was the best. That comment might have cut me to the quick another time; but I don't remember feeling hurt by it that day.

I would have been devastated, however, if I’d been chastised for showing up wearing the wrong shoes! My only good shoes at that time, my “church shoes,” were black Mary Janes.  My mom thought I could wear those, until I told her that the nuns at CCD had insisted that all the girls must wear white shoes.  I remember feeling a bit panicky about it, but then waking up one morning close to the big day with a shoe box at the end of my bed.  My mom had gone out shopping the evening before and bought me brand new white patent leather shoes. I was thrilled, and so relieved.

Maybe the only thing I do wish was different about my sweet little First Communion dress, looking at it now, is that it had been a bit longer and had fallen below my knees. But this was 1966, and I think hemlines were creeping upward.  Look at the gal in pink, though--I'm just loving her 60's vintage dress.  And her lace chapel veil. 

I still have the beautifully illustrated little missal that I received shortly before my First Communion day.   Sixty years later, I still have it.  I cherish it.

This sweet little book is one of my most precious possessions.

We gave each of our grandchildren Rosary holders that I'd found on Etsy, featuring St. Michael for the boys and Our Blessed Mother for the girls.  Also, cards with $10 in them.  I wonder if any of them will have those Rosary holders 60 years from now?  I wonder if any of them will be as sentimental as their dear old Grammy?

Probably not.  But I hope at least that they'll always remember how much I loved them!!

The Finished Art Project!

In my last post, I showed you a colored pencil drawing that I'd made for the wife of son #5 as a belated birthday gift.

That's just a photo of it taken on my phone, and the color is a little off...but essentially, that's how it came out.  (I know I should have scanned it, but I've had trouble in the past scanning these sorts of pastel-colored drawings, because often the colors look too muted.)

I texted the photo to son #4, who is so talented, and he was able to add some subtle translucent shading on the left and two streaks of sunlight on the glass of the door.  Then I adjusted the color just a bit using basic computer editing (because the photo came out a bit darker than the original) and sent it off to Walgreen's to be printed.  My drawing was 9x12", but I had it enlarged to 11x14", thinking that at that more common size, it might be easier to find a frame for it.

Amazon had the perfect matted poster frame.  And voila!  C'est finis!

We are heading to Savannah today, for the Saturday morning wedding of one of our nephews, the oldest child of one of my husband's sisters.  We have been up in NY for the past two weeks or so, spending time with another sister of his who is battling cancer.  I haven't mentioned her plight yet here at the blog, due to privacy concerns that are too personal to go into; but I think what she'd appreciate now more than ever is any and all prayers.  She has a PET scan this morning (in fact, I think she's about to go in for it any minute now).  Months ago, she got PET scan results that were truly miraculous: she'd been diagnosed with stage 4 cancer that had spread to all different parts of her body; but after a number of treatments, every single tumor was gone without a trace, except for the one in her colon--and that had shrunk!  Please pray for another miracle for her today, dear readers. 

I'm going to see my D-I-L in Savannah, and I can't wait to give her the picture, which was a fun joint project with son #4 and truly a labor of love.  Have a great weekend!

When Artwork is a Labor of Love

A while back, my daughter-in-law (wife of son #5) showed me an old photo of the firstborn of her two little girls with one of the cats they used to have (and had to give away to family members out in the Midwest, due to allergies--but that's a story for another day).  It was so adorable: the two were sitting side-by-side on the floor, a toddler in footie PJ's with her pet kitty-cat, gazing at the world outside the front storm door.  I told my D-I-L that I thought it looked like it should be a painting, and that I wished I had the talent to do it justice.

When her early-April birthday was approaching, I actually entertained the idea of doing that for her as a gift. I thought I could make either a painting or a colored pencil drawing inspired by that endearing photo. I started working on a rough sketch; but a bit intimidated by how difficult the project seemed (I mean, the photo was tad dark, and there were objects blocking a perfect view of the two sweet creatures I would want to highlight), I ultimately put it aside.  We never did get a gift in the mail on time for my D-I-L's actual birthday. Then when I asked her during a FaceTime birthday call if she had any special wishes, she mentioned that she would like me to try to do what we had talked about.  If I was up to it, of course.  

I don't like to say no to my kids if at all possible.  And this was going to be a very belated gift, but... I got right to work after that call, excited to pour all my love and energy into this gift.  The first thing I wanted to tackle was the star of the scene, my sweet golden-haired granddaughter, and here's what the piece looked like on April 9, which was day one. (Excuse the poor lighting/quality of the photos I’m about to share.)

When it comes to drawing or painting, my very favorite subjects are living, breathing creatures: people and animals (especially cute furry ones).  I'm not very interested in--or good at--landscapes or buildings or vehicles. However, some of those not-so-fun-for-me inanimate objects were part of the scene these two were looking at in the photo I was using as inspiration.  So I added them.  But honestly, I would have loved to just stop after my granddaughter and her cat were finished. Maybe have a blurry garden or woodsy scene showing through the glass door.  But I sketched in the details (poorly) and forged ahead.

As I told son #4, who is a gifted artist, my go-to style seems to be "children's book illustration."  My work is not at all realistic, and when I do colored pencil drawings, I always default to using a fine-tipped black Sharpie to outline everything.  (Self-trained artist, here.  Obviously!)  I was going to try something different with this piece of artwork, but I'm an old dog and you know what they say about new tricks and whatnot.

I worked on this project diligently for close to two weeks, in fits and starts.  Here's how things were progressing on April 18. 

As you can see, my humble little labor of love barely resembles the photo that inspired it.  I call "artistic license!"  Yes, that's it, that's the ticket!   And thank goodness I can erase colored pencil marks, because I had to do lots and lots of tweaking and fixing.  Also, I decided to add a little bird to the scene.  No doubt these two would both be fascinated by that.  By April 21, I decided the picture was finished.

I sent a photo of the drawing via text to son #4 to see what he thought.  He has this very cool art program for his tablet, with which he creates truly professional works that blow us all away.  He said that if I wanted, he could add streaks of light on the glass of that front door, or blur the scene showing through it so that the two figures in the foreground are the main focus. I was excited about the idea of collaborating with him. This will be the first time we've ever done anything like this!

Once my talented boy has edited it for me, I'll be back to show you how it came out.  (I'm sure you'll be on tenterhooks until then, ha ha!)

Happy Sunday, dear readers.  😊

Easter 2026

Yes, this is my Easter post.  And I'm a little late, I know—but what else is new when it comes to me and updating this blog?!  I think it's a good thing that I'm having hardcover blog books printed up yearly now as family keepsakes, because it makes me more determined not to let too much time pass between posts!  If possible, I'd like all of our most important family get-togethers to be included in those books. Also, technically, there are still four more weeks of Easter!  We are still in Easter celebration mode, liturgically; so I guess this post isn't so late after all.

On Easter Sunday, we had a lovely after-Mass brunch at our house, with 12 adults and 17 kids in attendance altogether. Joining us were: our three VA sons and their wives and children (which means 14 of our grandchildren); the parents of one of our daughters-in-law, who are local; an old college friend of two of our daughters-in-law; and our niece (with whom I share a name) and her three girls.  It was so much fun—a bit crazy, of course, but we like it that way.  We set up the dining room table with a buffet that included egg-and-spinach casserole, quiches, hash brown casserole, sausages, fruit, cinnamon coffee cake, and assorted pastries.  One daughter-in-law brought a Greek salad, her friend brought deviled eggs, and our niece brought two dozen out-of-this-world doughnuts. Oh yes, and we had lasagna, too—-although everyone was more into the breakfast fare and that was mostly ignored.

We were able to get everyone assembled around the table so that my husband could say grace before we started eating.  And he ended with, "He is risen!"  To which we all enthusiastically responded, "Truly, He is risen!"  It was wonderful.

We had an Easter egg hunt afterward, and all the kids (ranging in age from two to twelve) got along extremely well and kept themselves happily occupied with—minimal adult intervention—all afternoon, so my husband and I were able to really enjoy visiting with our boys and their wives and everyone else who'd come to celebrate with us.  

Easter might be my favorite holiday (although check in here again in early December, and you might get a different story, LOL).  It fills me with such joy, it truly does. Because it’s springtime, and the days are getting longer and sunnier, and the earth is blooming once again. But mostly because He is risen.  Truly, He is risen.  Alleluia!

Now for the proverbial photo dump:

I absolutely love the days leading up to events like this, when I am in party-prep mode and making whatever dishes I can ahead of time, and then deciding how I'm going to set everything up. And post-party, I always think of how I could have made things better.

This was the first time we ever set up the food buffet-style in the dining room, because we usually like to keep that table free for anyone who wants to eat there. But when it’s set up in the kitchen, it gets so crowded and chaotic when everyone is trying to fill their plates. Now that the grandkids are getting older, I really wanted to try it this way. I thought it would seem special, and it did.  But…for future Pearl brunches, I'm going to work on making the spread look truly spectacular and inviting, with foods set up on all different levels (and I have plenty of footed bowls and tiered cake plates that I could use for this, I don't know why I didn't break them out on Easter!). I’m going to have more savory dishes and fewer sweets! Also, I think next time I’ll pre-cut the quiche slices and arrange them on pretty platters (or better yet, make mini quiches instead of big pies!), so that it will be easier to get them served. That goes for the coffee cake and pastries as well—plates of bite-sized squares might work better, especially with all the littles we have at our shindigs.  I have lots of other ideas, too—I guess I tend to overthink everything...but that’s all part of the fun for me.  And now I can hardly wait for another excuse to have my gang over!

Happy Easter, dear readers!  And God bless you all.

Three Beautiful Moments in an Ordinary Day

I’m on Substack now, and I recently saw a great post on my feed by one of the people I follow there (because her thoughts on homemaking and motherhood are profoundly beautiful, and I think her writing is a wonder).  She called it “6 Beautiful Moments in an Ordinary Day,” with captions for each of the six pictures.  I loved that idea: showing gratefulness for all the small, ordinary moments that we experience in the course of a mundane, average day, which are actually blessings and even almost miraculous.  So I thought it would be fun to try a similar post here at the blog (or better put, to be a total copy-cat!).

Here are three beautiful moments in my day, from about a week ago.

1

I was out walking in our neighborhood, and looking at this view of our house really struck me. It got me thinking about how much I absolutely love springtime in VA, when the cherry blossoms are blooming on our tree out front.  Between that glorious tree, and the white picket fence, and our garden statue of Mary near the front walk, I think this scene looks almost too beautiful to be real. As I stood there on my interrupted walk, I was reminded of the movie The Quiet Man, starring John Wayne and Maureen O'Hara (one of our very favorites, which we always watch on St. Patrick's Day).  O'Hara's Mary Kate Dannaher and Wayne's Sean Thornton get married and move into a darling thatched-roof cottage with an emerald green door, the most perfect little Irish cottage imaginable, but they have a rocky start to their union. Mary Kate is a girl who loves keeping her home, loves to have her things about her (I can totally relate to her!). Twice in that movie, she says to Sean, "It's a pretty cottage, isn't it?" To which he replies, "I think so."  That's the way I feel when I look at this house: I think it's such a pretty little cottage, and I couldn't be happier to live in it.  I feel so blessed to have it!  When we moved here nine years ago, leaving behind a much bigger house that had been our home for over a quarter of a century, I never would have believed I could feel this way about another house.  But oh, I do.  It will be the house that my grandchildren remember.

2

Speaking of how much I love springtime in VA--look at this spectacular view!!  Two of our boys, sons #3 and #4, live about 35 minutes south of us, and this is a view from the highway that connects our town with theirs.  We pass it every time we go back and forth to visit with them.  There are lots of similar views along the route, but this particular spot is just the best of all, with the wooden fence, the sprawling green fields, and the outlines of the Blue ridge Mountains in the distance--and no houses or other structures in the way to spoil its perfection.  For years, I've meant to take a picture of it, but it always rushes past before I remember to pull over.  Well, last Sunday son #4 and his gang were at our house for after-Mass brunch, and our daughter-in-law Braveheart mentioned that the view from this spot was better than ever right now. I mean, it's always so lovely, at any time of the year; but she said that there was currently a riot of daffodils blooming in the foreground.  Later that day, close to the dusky time of day photographers call the "magic hour," we were heading over to have dinner with son #3's family, to celebrate the fourth birthday of his fifth and youngest child; and my husband, God bless him, made this moment happen: he remembered to stop on the side of the road, so that I could snap a few quick pictures with my cell phone camera.  This scenic vista is just breath-taking; to me, it looks like an oil painting.  Almost too perfect to be real.  It makes me feel blessed to live in such a beautiful part of the country.

3

And finally, here is maybe the most beautiful moment of the three, captured for posterity: our sweet little grandson, the newly minted 4-year-old, playing with the present I made him for his birthday.  He is an absolute animal fanatic; so I painted a giant canvas play mat for his toy creatures to inhabit.  It's 24x36", so pretty good-sized, yet not nearly big enough for the extensive menagerie that he has these days!  But he did seem to like it, and watching him put it to use made his Grammy very happy.  Watching the grandchildren do anything at all tends to do that, actually.  Those are always some of life's most beautiful moments.  And I feel so blessed that I get to experience them on a regular basis.

There are so many moments to cherish, such beautiful daily proofs of the existence of God, on even the most ordinary of days in the most ordinary of lives.  God is so good!  We just have to keep our eyes open so that we don't miss them.

Have a blessed Easter, dear readers.