Friday, August 31, 2012

In a Puff

Just a typical after school Playdate with some 
Chillin' (are we actually going to have a brown eyed girl?)

                                                             Chicken seed tossing
                                             Chicken catchin' (fourth try)

Love that Bean came up with this game himself. 

And one of our end of evening rituals.

When Handy Man and I were in Ohio a million years ago in June, we went into a Victorian shop in a big, old, beautiful Victorian home.  It smelled so lovely.  The source of the smell was a french milled powder accompanied by  these luscious powder puffs.  I know smells are great at prompting memories.  Anytime I smell an old building where coal heat has been used, it instantly takes me back to  my Papaw's.  Due to it being French, it is now the special Paris Powder.  Bean and Bugg spend the night after Playdate and our last activity before heading to bed is being swirled with the puff and a prayer/blessing/wish

Powder powder everywhere
Give those frightening dreams a scare
Send them oh so far from here
invite one’s sweet and full of cheer
To wrap me up and round me creep
In peaceful, gentle sleep so deep
And in such rest i’m sure to find
God is watching all the time.

Of course, my hope is that powder,  or that soft, sweet smell, will remind them of all our good times.


  1. I bet the smell of powder will forever be associated with Gramerly. How sweet.

  2. What a sweet poem. I love bedtime rituals that make them feel safe and happy.

  3. I cuddled up with my granddaughter, Jill, this morning in the kid room. We started talking softly. It was still about 5:30 AM. I told her, "I have loved you every minute since you were born." That started a discussion about that day. Now she is still sleeping in while I am having my coffee.

  4. It is actually 8:36 now, not 5:36

  5. Love the powder poem. About the brown eyes. . . my mom had beautiful brown eyes that she handed down to NONE of the kids or grandkids. Finally one of my grandkids -- her great-granddaughter -- has brown eyes, and I love it! My mom died before she was born, but I still think about my mom when I sing to her about "beautiful, beautiful brown eyes."

  6. Oh, so sweet loving and singing to those sweet girls.