I love the pictures and antics of her children. I love that her and her husband live off the land in Durango, Colorado, and get road kill permits. That her children don't shy away from utilizing every ounce of an elk hunted by their mountain man father, Dan.
Rachel is a home maker of the most vocerifious kind, making salsa and soups and mayonnaise and yogurt. She defines the word mother, unabashedly admitting her fears and vulnerabilities, while creating the ideal backdrop of childhood for her two muses - that of intense love, acceptance, and education of the world around them. I love her writing, and that her words transport me to another place. Her thoughts resonate with me long after the words on the screen have disappeared back into the black hole of the internet.
Her posts pull me in like a warm body in a cold bed. The combination of words that appear before me on the screen are my vision of perfect writing - images and feelings recreated through words, with such perfect description and metaphors that I try not to devour a whole post in one sitting.
Maybe its my imagined similarity to my own childhood - a simpler time with parents unencumbered by the stresses of our time.
Or maybe it's the dichotomy to my own life. She contemplates homeschooling; I shudder at the thought. She manages to accomplish projects that I only dream about.
I love that she isn't tied down to the silly stream of conciousness that the rest of us "city-folk" endure.
Rachel is a home maker of the most vocerifious kind, making salsa and soups and mayonnaise and yogurt. She defines the word mother, unabashedly admitting her fears and vulnerabilities, while creating the ideal backdrop of childhood for her two muses - that of intense love, acceptance, and education of the world around them. I love her writing, and that her words transport me to another place. Her thoughts resonate with me long after the words on the screen have disappeared back into the black hole of the internet.
Her posts pull me in like a warm body in a cold bed. The combination of words that appear before me on the screen are my vision of perfect writing - images and feelings recreated through words, with such perfect description and metaphors that I try not to devour a whole post in one sitting.
Maybe its my imagined similarity to my own childhood - a simpler time with parents unencumbered by the stresses of our time.
Or maybe it's the dichotomy to my own life. She contemplates homeschooling; I shudder at the thought. She manages to accomplish projects that I only dream about.
I love that she isn't tied down to the silly stream of conciousness that the rest of us "city-folk" endure.
Most of all, I love her openness. I love that she shares with her readers, with such emotion and clarity, the commonalities that bind us all together - the fear, vulnerability and thrill that is parenting and life. Her son, Col, came into the world a 25 week, 1 pound 12 ounce preemie, which is how I found her - her story of the 101 roller coaster days spent in the NICU with him made my tears flow and my heart ache for her. He is the most beautiful kind of miracle - the little boy that beat the odds to become a vibrant, lushly intelligent boy.
And then there is Rose. She appears to bring the industrious household into balance with her simple girlishness, who supervises gardening in her nightgown, wears tutus while helping her mother in the kitchen, and layers on mismatching clothes with the flair that only a 4 year old can pull off.
Each post is a feast for the eyes, with clear, candid snapshots of her family living life.
Go visit. You'll see what I mean.
And then there is Rose. She appears to bring the industrious household into balance with her simple girlishness, who supervises gardening in her nightgown, wears tutus while helping her mother in the kitchen, and layers on mismatching clothes with the flair that only a 4 year old can pull off.
Each post is a feast for the eyes, with clear, candid snapshots of her family living life.
Go visit. You'll see what I mean.
I will go visit. I found your blog from another blog I follow. I am now following your blog too. You see, I am an identical twin myself. I will enjoy reading what you write about your twins, as well as what your thoughts are as the mother of twins. I hope you will follow me back http://talesfrommyjournal.blogspot.com
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