my ocean

Yesterday was a really, really long day at work. For the second day in a row. I keep reminding myself it'll be a good paycheck after our vacation, but really that just couldn't matter less to me. I missed my family. Laithe tried to make up for our hours apart last night by nursing all night. Literally all night when he wasn't even hungry. He'd spit up and then go back for more. Last night was a family bed night. They've been more frequent these past couple of weeks which is to be expected with all the changes in routine and school. There will be some extra stretching today as my back struggles being nestled between a constant nurser and a super long almost 4 year old. There's really nothing like going to bed and waking up to your whole family though. I love it. Those quiet moments when half the family is still asleep and half is slowly waking. When John and I can talk quietly over our kids. Nothing like it.

Our weather is changing. Quite abruptly these past couple of days. There's something to be said for having spent years in a place. It is nice to be able to recognize the beginnings of the next season. To know what to look for. I realized as I was sitting in traffic yesterday waiting to cross the Mississippi that we've been in Iowa 5 years now. I was shocked. I have no idea if we'll stay here or for how long, but no matter what this place will always hold a special space in my heart. See above paragraph for the biggest reasons.

As I was sitting there though watching the wind whip through the drying out seed corn. Through the soy beans starting to yellow. I was reminded of that part in Sarah, Plain and Tall - one of my most favorite stories as a kid- when she talks about how the prairie grass looks like the ocean. When I was little the closest thing I saw to prairie grass was the ripening wheat on the road to my grandparents in Dufur, Oregon. The wind would blow and the wheat would move wave-like and I would think, I know exactly what you're talking about Sarah!

In fact I had no idea. (story of my life) There is nothing like waist or shoulder high indigenous prairie grass waving in the wind. It doesn't bend- it undulates. It is so intensely beautiful. The grass responds to every little cord of wind blowing through.
Suffice it to say that while I was missing my family so much and knowing I wouldn't make it home for another 4 hours, watching our oceanic prairie for a few minutes was something I'm so glad I didn't miss.