ladies of the canyon

There are a few parts of the year where it seems I can actually feel the passage of time. The middle of August always has a strange, suspended feel to it...the days no longer have the intense heat of summer, or the intense, energetic rush of festivals, camping, roadtrips; that manic but wonderul urgency of getting it all in because every one of our senses keeps reminding us that summer is fleeting! By the middle a August, I'm over all of that.



That sweet rush of summer comes to a halting stop and we take a deep breath. We slow down. We spend time in the giant, silver wonderfulness of our russian olive tree,



enjoy slow, sun-drenched mornings reading library book after library book with dad before he leaves for work,



We get better aqainted with Jack-the-horse, who, although a long-time family member, is new to being a backyard attraction,




Though of course, we just wouldn't be us, without moments like this:



So it's not exactly a peaceful zen garden around here - just nice and normal (for us).




My mom (who I cannot listent to a Joni Mitchell song without thinking of) always called my sister and I, 'Ladies of the Canyon,' as in," Alright, ladies of the canyon, time for bed"...and I've begun to call my own ladies the same, so goodnight from southwest Montana, the sisters 'A', and the ladies of the canyon.

"Pouring music down the canyon-
Coloring the sunshine hours
They are the ladies of the canyon."
-Joni Mitchell