pressing my ear

Last night, Mike and I finished watching the Planet Earth series produced by the BBC. Brilliant. Each episode astonished us with its gorgeous cinematography and the most interesting and varied animals and environments. The final disc includes documentaries on conservancy and the complex issues associated with this movement. One of the main problems highlighted was the issue of conquering both world hunger and the needless and irresponsible depletion of world resources. More to point, how can we expend monies saving the whales when members of our own species die of hunger and disease? How do we save both simultaneously, as we must? And how do we as individuals make a difference, faithfully fulfill the stewardship we've been given? After watching it, I was tempted to run into the darkness and lie face down in the dewy grass, pressing my ear through the green blades to listen for the earth's great heartbeat through the depths of stone and pressed rock. Just to make sure. Or wrap my arms around a thick, arching tree trunk and listen to it breathe its silent sighs.

The Lake

As you will see in these pictures, Alana slept for a good portion of the day. We all took turns being cuddled.

Emily not looking natural, but looking above the water, at least.

In contrast to Mike, jumping...

and flipping

Oh My...

Mike has been walking around our house moaning, "butt cheeks, oh, my butt cheeks," for the past two days. Luckily, he managed to keep this lament to himself during Primary. Who knows what kind of chaos may have ensued in our 12-year old class. After hours of slicing through and lurching over the water of Deer Creek on a wake board Saturday, the man's bottom is taking its revenge. I stared at him from the back of the boat, simultaneously terrified and amazed at the ease with which he flipped, jumped, and spun through air and water. He's like a fish. A flying fish. This is in stark contrast to me, whose goal it was to get up. Just get up. Out of the water. On the board. All without face-planting or incurring serious injury. I did. Miraculously. On my first try and several times there after. Did I stay up? No. Nope. But I arose out of the water like a less-graceful nymph, straining to stay balanced while careening through the whip and splash of the wake like Hellespont. I would have respected myself more if I had screamed less. Pictures forthcoming.