The Quaint Things in Life

Photo credit: Keith Bloomfield

To my mind this very well may be the quaintest my life has ever been. Quaint, in the oddly picturesque or old-fashioned charm sort of way. I am indeed living small. I've had my days living large (and hope to one day do so again), but for now small is all I need (if not all I want). On these rainy days a single trip to the grocery store, the library, or just the front yard seems the highlight, an event to get dressed for each morning. My day is notched by meals and snacks, diaper changes and naps, hallway hockey and sofa bed snuggles. And it feels alright for this is how I remember my early childhood to be; predictable in all the right places. This allowed me, and in turn, allows my kids, to focus on the little things in their little lives, making mere chestnuts mighty in their minds.

This is a poem about my quaint beginnings based on memories and family lore.

Boulder Creek

rocking chair

record player

woodstove

typewriter

garden hose

swing set

sandbox

playhouse

black bears

apple orchard

waterfall

birch trees

ice skates

snowmobile

woodshed

toboggan hill

homemade

make believe

go fish

popcorn

pigtails

onion soup

bunk beds

gumboots

sundeck

clothesline

broken leg

nap time

tricycle

birthday

Radio Flyer

driveway

gooseberries

greenhouse

paper dolls

pencil crayons

barn house

plywood

staircase

childhood