Peach Pickin'

 

This past weekend, my honeys and I went peach picking at Fisher's Orchard. I love orchards and beg my big honey to go every year. I have really been itching to go this year because when I went to go pick apples last fall, our local orchard was already closed for the season. It was a sad day. My very-pregnant-self seriously wanted homemade applesauce. But I survived, and decided that I was not going to miss the opportunity to pick something this year. So I scoured the results from a Google search of "pick your own orchards Greenville, SC". Low and behold, there is an entire website dedicated to "pick your own" in South Carolina. I wasn't picky about what we picked,  I just wanted to be sure little honey was able to pick something! So I settled on peaches. We had so much fun ducking under the trees, hunting for the perfect, big, fat, juicy peach. Little honey was even able to get his hands on a few and pick them himself with a boost from Dad. My heart explodes watching theses two. Maybe these memories are a little more for me than little man, but I cant wait to show him the pictures when he's older, and sit back and reminisce with my big Honey about when we too our little guy to the orchard for the first time.

 

The Isn'ts...

There are few things I love more than sitting criss-cross in an overstuffed chair with a hot cup of coffee that has the perfect amount of sugar and cream. Bonus points if the criss-cross legs are bare and tanned, and no one else is awake. These moments are far more common for me than I deserve. I squeeze them in a couple times a week - on a random Tuesday after my big honey has left for work, or on a Saturday when both honeys are still snuggled up in bed. I keep the lights low, pad across my hardwood floors, snuggle into a favorite spot and savor the moment when the sun just begins to flood my living room with that dusty golden glow.  I had one of these sweet. solitudinous moments this past weekend at my in-laws house. It was raining out, little honey was playing happily in the floor. I was wearing a worn, over-sized sweater (double bonus points...) and my coffee had just the right balance of whole milk and real sugar. In that second, I thought about how fortunate I was. How graced, blessed, loved, and unbelievably fortunate I was to be there. Far too often, I find myself focused on what isn't. What isn't clean, isn't on time, isn't perfectly cooked, isn't toned (post-partum body, mamas? Can I get an A'men!)... isn't, isn't, isn't. So I decided, right then, to start a blog about what is - to remind us that life is not about the isn'ts. It's about the people you love the most, the passions you follow, the lives you touch and the moments as they come- not as we think they should be.