Summertime Smells

Words & Photography
by Laura Blanton



Summertime, for me, used to be synonymous
with the smells of: fresh cut grass and bonfires.
And even though those smells still, without a doubt,
evoke summertime feelings, since I've become a mom,
summertime most definitely smells more like:
fresh cut strawberries and sunscreen.
How about you?

A Handful Of Peonies

Words & Photography
by Caroline Snider



The family that owned Wandering Acres before us planted these peonies and raised their babies in this house, on this land we now call our own. And every year as May turns to June, they bloom so spectacularly that my heart feels a little giddy.

Last year, with eyes stinging from tiredness and a babe fresh from the womb, I wandered somewhat deliriously out into the yard and brought back with me handfuls of these blooms, and there they sat in a jar on the shelf in the nursery dutifully watching over that first tender week as a family of three.

And I think about all the ways we mark time and how beautiful it all is. As it runs too fast through our fumbling fingers. And I think about how I want to bottle this moment. This now. Where we are all here. So deep in bloom.

And this evening as I dot them all over the house, I think about the other babies that were born within the walls of this old home and how they learned to crawl on these creaky wooden floors, and then one day before too long after the peonies has bloomed and faded, bloomed and faded, they left through the green front door that always gets a little stuck in the heat. And I think about all the ways we mark time and how beautiful it all is. As it runs too fast through our fumbling fingers. And I think about how I want to bottle this moment. This now. Where we are all here. So deep in bloom. Because I don’t know, these really are the days.

Tropical Toronto Paradise

Words & Photpgraphy
by Kat Gaskin



My little tropical paradise, aka my apartment
in the center of Toronto is coming together.
I may be surrounded by skyscrapers without a palm tree in sight,
but home is where you make it.

Simple Recipes

Words & Photography
by Rose Swain



Just tomatoes, onions, garlic, red bell pepper,
and herbs and spices for flavor.
I love recipes that are both simple and organic feeling.

Cherishing My Body

Words & Photography
by Anna McParlan



After my Dad had a stroke, I made a promise to myself to cherish my body. One moment he was clocking 50 miles a day on his bike, and the next he was paralyzed on his whole right side. Everything he had done on the daily had now become an act of grit and courage- fighting for every ounce of movement. I spent many nights by his bed holding that weak arm, tears rolling, begging God to bring healing and make the muscles that once moved with fluidity work again. I learned a lot about living on those nights as we danced with him on the edge of heaven.

And so instead of wishing I was a smaller jean size or that my chest didn’t show the wear of nursing through the scars of stretch marks, I’m just so thankful for a body that helps me do what God made me for. A strong body that lifts and carries my babes every waking hour of the day. A body that helps me take flight, carefree and bounding into a frigid Lake Superior on a heavenly night in May. Arms that both work when I outstretch them to offer a safe place for my people to land, and wrap David up in a bear hug after a long day at work. Hands that can write out the strung-together words of my heart, and a mouth that utters, "I love you’s" almost non-stop.

And so instead of wishing I was a smaller jean size or that my chest didn’t show the wear of nursing through the scars of stretch marks, I’m just so thankful for a body that helps me do what God made me for.

Wishing I could tell Dad about all the gold that came from the fire. All the nuggets of truth that stuck to my soul when we walked through the valley. Every single time I run or leap or dance, I think on you Dad. How you’d tell me to thank God for every wildly beautiful mundane moment I get to unwrap - for every bike ride, and sunset swim, and each opportunity I get to swing my babies around the kitchen dancing.