Poetry

I have taken my camera out exactly one time since we’ve gotten home from our Minnesota trip. Partly because I am not as good at capturing daily life with the big camera as I used to be, but mainly because I’ve had bronchitis pretty much since we got back. My view of my feet at the end of the bed or of my latest Netflix binge just aren’t inspiring.

Not surprisingly, and much to poor, amazing, tired Ned’s chagrin, life continues to move at its usual pace even when one of the two-member parenting team is down. Tilly still runs at breakneck speed through the house, Josephine still needs to be brought to and from school, food still needs to be procured and turned into edible meals, and, apparently, poetry needs to be memorized.

My aunt and uncle gave us a beautiful book of poems that celebrate the seasons. Josephine is enthralled and likes finding the poem that correlates to each person’s birthday. We read Tilly’s birthday poem the other morning over breakfast before school and when she got home, she presented me with a piece of paper on which she had written out the poem from memory. She wanted me to write out the poem so she could check her work. Nailed it.

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