When Maggie Rose was born, our days and nights played out in a choppy rhythm to a tune we didn’t know, and couldn’t fall asleep to, as we listened to the notes and tried to make sense of the melody of infancy.

Howard’s arrival into our lives is more like a song remembered, if a few notes missed here and there.  I suppose what I mean is that it seems he has always been with us, and already I hardly remember a time without both he and Maggie Rose.  Life has simply moved forward in the last four weeks, and swept us all along with it.


We’ve celebrated our favorite holiday, the 4th of July.

We’ve remembered my brother Howard, and joyfully watched Maggie play in the gorgeous memorial structure that our friend Jordan built in his honor.


I got in a little much needed time with a few of the Hot Buns, who arrived from Asheville, Atlanta, and Seattle to hike and play under the brilliant July sun.


We were reacquainted with July-under-the-Big-Sky … a shade of blue singular to this inestimable month.


And most importantly, all of this July-ness has been kind to our honeybees, who have a crop on!  So we set up the extracting room and began harvest at 8:22 am on Tuesday, July 16.


Harvest is the hardest kind of work, and by extension the best, too, as fits the norm in superlatives.  The days are endless and yet not nearly long enough.  Our bones ache with the effort of moving thousands and thousands of pounds of honey from the hive to the truck, from the truck to the warm room, from the warm room to the extracting room, from the extracting room to the barrel, from the barrel to the tractor trailer … to say nothing of the retail honey.

Harvest.  A precious four week old baby.  July.  A two year old starting to speak in sentences.  Just after Maggie’s bedtime on Tuesday, Honeydew and I collapsed on the couch and stared in silence at one another, happy to be together, happy to have a crop to harvest, but too tired to say much to one another.  After a few minutes, Maggie’s wondering voice drifted in over the monitor:

“Daddy happy.  Mama happy.  Maggie happy.”

Yes, Maggie Rose. We are happy.

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