Month: August 2013

We had our first floor painted recently, and one unforseen joy of this process was sorting through all the books, frames, and assorted paraphernalia in our bookcases before I put them back in.  I found this label, from the trip that Matt and I took to Africa in 1998.  After climbing Kilimanjaro and going on safari in Kenya, we spent some time in South Africa.  The vineyards around Cape Town are stunning; I think that would be an amazing honeymoon.  One evening we shared this bottle of wine in Stellenbosch, and I saved the label because L’Avenir means, after all, the future.  I couldn’t have known then, as a 23 year old young woman on a great adventure with a new boyfriend, what l’avenir held for the two of us.  But I obviously suspected there would be a future.  And how fortunate I am that I was right.

Whit brought this sailboat home from camp.  Sailing and woodshop were his two favorite activities.  We were not even out of the camp parking lot when I put it in the trunk and closed the back of the car, breaking the mast in two.  I’ll never forget Whit’s eyes at that moment, which filled instantly with tears and looked at me, round, upset, helpless.  We bought a new mast and installed it with the help of Poppy’s wood shop in the basement of my parents’ house.  Whit could not be prouder of this boat.  I love it.

I can tell that these two natural-born engineers whispering the vocabulary of knots, beginning to talk in the private language of sailing that my mother speaks too.  I can’t understand what they’re saying, but the communication makes me happier than I can possibly convey.

(some of these photos have already been on Instagram; sorry for the duplication.  I’d love to see you over there too!)

This is my grandfather, skiing in Europe.  It hung by the door of his apartment until his death a year ago, and now is on the wall at my parents’ house.  I love it for the sheer majesty of the mountains and also for the way it captures the spirit of adventure that filled my grandfather’s life.

Early Sunday morning, I watched Matt and Whit swim to the dock.  The sun sparkled brightly on the water, a few seagulls wheeled in the sky, and we were the only people there.  I sat in the sand, sipped coffee from my favorite chipped orange mug, and watched them splash.