“popcorn poppin’ on the apricot tree . . . “

“I looked out the window and what did I see?

Popcorn poppin’ on the apricot tree.

Spring has come, such a nice surprise.

Popcorn poppin right before my eyes.”

there was a window in our kitchen.

when i was little, there was a window in our kitchen that looked out to the apricot tree . . . and the rhubarb patch . . .

my grandma would sing . . . as we looked out the window . . .

while we chopped rhubarb, my mom would sing . . .

. . . in those moments that we would stop for a moment, stick our stalk of rhubarb into sugar, enjoy the sweetness . . . enjoy the moment, we would sing,

“i looked out the window and what did I see?

popcorn poppin’ on the apricot tree.

spring has come, such a nice surprise.

popcorn poppin right before my eyes.”

My mom and my grandma were showing me something – even if they didn’t know it – they were teaching me to stop and enjoy the moment. It’s hard for me. Everything is so busy . . . and I think I might be a bit addicted to chaos . . . so, it’s hard for me to stop . . . and enjoy the moment.

God has been so good to me, though, because he continues to put people in my life who encourage me to stop . . . and really enjoy what I am doing . . .

Lindsay and Anna Belle Gaasch, from Wildwood Floral, have been setting up a garden – in our alley, and in the streets, and on the sidewalk. Their job is to run a floral shop, but they continue to find ways to make the town we live in more beautiful, more creative, more exciting . . . finding ways to enjoy the moment. If you haven’t stopped by their new shop, you should . . . sit in the alley, enjoy some sun tea . . . stop for a moment, and smell the flowers.

Last night, I was taking pictures of a wonderful family, and on my way home, the light was INCREDIBLE! GORGEOUS! AMAZING! It was one of those times when you look out of the fields and Adele or Norah Jones just starts singing in my head, and I want to stop . . . soak it in . . . most of the time though, I DON”T.

I just keep on going.

Not this time, though.

This time, my Grandma’s voice was louder than all the rest . . . this time, those moments of chopping rhubarb with my mom outweighed the need for rush . . . so I stopped . . .