Small things start us in new ways of thinking.
– V.S. Naipaul, British writer, 2001 Nobel Prize in Literature, from A Bend in the River

Textures, textures: Faux fur top and printed knit skirt.

I didn’t get a chance to write or post yesterday, Friday being my usual posting day. I’d pulled another all-nighter (well, I slept for one hour when I couldn’t make sense of what I was writing or reading on the computer screen) and was trying to recover from another difficult week at work. I think that makes three straight weeks of damage control and mopping up messes. After closing time, after a meeting and practices for the kids’ extracurricular and sports activities, I could do little else but sit on the sofa in front of the fire and fall asleep, with the opening ceremonies of the Winter Olympics on the television set, an open book on my lap and my laptop bearing the beginnings of a blog post I had started on the sofa next to me. David roused me awake close to midnight and we called it a day, a week, a long week, at that.

Earthy accessories: Laura Lombardi necklace (Eskell, Chicago), End of Century cicada ring (NYC), Alkemie scarab cuff, and Anthropologie feather earrings.

So this morning, on a cozy Saturday with much-needed, hallelujah rain sheeting down outside, I went back to the abandoned blog post in my office while Isabella sat in the library to work on her homework. Rex was restless on his bed because he couldn’t understand why a little rain should prevent him from getting his morning walk. True to a dog’s nature, he hates deviations from his routine. Ah, rain – his saboteur! He can’t get on with his day until he’s had his walk – the most cherished daily activity of his dog life.

Close-up of textures and accessories: strips of creamy faux fur and muted gold, cream and navy nubby knit.

Close-up: winter booties finish off this neutral palette.

So Isabella procrastinated and took pictures of him staring out the sliding glass door of our bedroom and lying forlornly on his bed – constantly interrupting my writing with her running, colorful commentary about his facial expressions.

Portrait of a dog waiting for his morning walk (photo by Isabella).

As she was showing me pictures on the camera, she clicked back a few photos and came upon a magnetic poetry poem she had composed last summer. I had never seen it, but it struck me in a most beautiful way:

Isabella’s magnetic poetry poem from summer 2013.

It made my day and my blog post. Hail the little discoveries and the chain of events leading up to small but wondrous things: Rain. Sad dog. Photography. Discovery. Joy.

Thanks, Isabella!
Love, Mom,
a.k.a. your ‘good book’