promise me cherries in february

The temperatures are back down to the fifties today, and the day started out with clouds. I didn't want to photograph my weekend tulips because it had been done before, but now I have a lovely new blog header. You see, the sun came out and lit up the neighbors' cherry blossoms, and I had to take Piper outside to see.

We put some thrifted curtains in our living room this weekend, to finish off the project we started in our bedroom this month. The house feels more... homey this way. A little more private, a little more permanent. Part of the slow release of a dream of owning our own home in the near future.

I am thinking today about how I can make my photography pay, as my Project 365 has totally snowballed. I have no conclusions, but I'm thinking about it, at any rate. Perhaps an Etsy shop? But then, I don't really want to make time to maintain yet another site. And speaking of sites, I finally have a concrete idea of what I would like to do for my photography site this year... I had started it, and then I just ran out of time to work on it.

I've been plugging away at my last couple weddings lately, working toward a March 14 deadline, looking forward to making collages to display on my photography blog, not yet finding the time to do it.

I remember my Grandma journaled like this every day, about the things she baked, what she did in her garden, who came to visit, where she went. I always think of her in the spring, when the blossoms come and things grow and promise fruit for summer, as we clean out what is left from winter.

Today I am aware of the passage of time, aware that even rising early won't give me more than I have, aware that I have too much to do, that I need to streamline what I want to do, prioritize, choose what matters most. I almost wish I didn't have so many choices; choosing takes time too.

I am vaguely frustrated with my limitations today, a bit weepy, quite tired of all of everything, grateful for the little real kisses and thoughtful toddler moments as Piper discovers upside down, mommy's teeth, and the fact that we both have tongues. And now she giggles on my lap as I make faces at her.

I am glad that God transcends the time that binds me here. Glad that His work lasts beyond today and tomorrow. Wishing I could see it more clearly.

"Let Your work appear to Your servants, and Your glory to their children. And let the beauty of the LORD our God be upon us, and establish the work of our hands for us; yes, establish the work of our hands." (Ps. 90:16-17, NKJV)