Something I’m trying to learn myself. It’s comfortable to be part of a chorus. We like to belong and to be part of something big and loud. But, I want Baby Girl to know that her voice and her thoughts and her passions (when she figures them out) are strong and powerful even if she’s speaking them alone. Even if she’s singing to the wind or to speaking to the sound of only crickets, her voice matters.
Today’s letter is a big brother edition. My third grader is starting the process of preparing for end-of-year required tests, and it’s producing a lot of worry — a fear he won’t do well. Every now and then this happens, and I try to remind him that there’s never been a challenge he hasn’t met when he’s put his mind to it. “You can do this!” Don’t we all need to hear this sometimes? For all those challenges, big and small. From video game levels to classroom tests to gamete skills. When the worries creep in, I want them to hear this. And, until they have the confidence and experience to say it to themselves, I want them to hear it from me.
My heart on a sick day… when Baby Girl still wants me to take care of her. And I realize how much I love these days in spite of the medicines. It’s in these days I’m so thankful. I’m acutely aware of how blessed we are. And I remember that everything I do, all my design and work endeavors, every opportunity… it’s all weighed against this. And my ability to be right here. Where she needs me.
They are precious words… “Mommy, can I sit in your lap?” Baby Girl still wants those treasured moments in my lap, and is willing to ask for them when I don’t notice. And, every time she does, I secretly say to myself, “I hope you always like to sit in my lap.” But, I know she won’t. My boys have outgrown those words — and my lap, I guess — and although I still get a “Mommy, can I sit by you,” from them, it’s not quite the same. They grow and change so fast, and I’m mindful more each day of how fleeting each little stage is. I kick myself every time I realize I’ve said “just a minute,” or “not right now,” to one of those questions. It reminds me again to focus on what matters. And to honor every request for these all too fleeting moments.
It’s Friday. It’s two days before Valentine’s Day. And, really, do we need a reason?
I hope I’m giving Baby Girl a healthy love for celebration — the celebration of ordinary days. Ordinary moments.
Hello & welcome! I’m Haley Montgomery, and I’m the designer and owner of Small Pond Graphics. I sometimes fancy myself a frog kisser— a documentarian coaxing poignant moments from unexpected places. This blog has evolved from those moments.
The small Pond FIELD GUIDE is part diary, part sketchbook, and part wish list – an archive of ordinary wonders. For years, this space has housed my stories – creative ideas, vintage inspiration, our forays into curious places, and the simple artifacts of quiet of conscious living. Through watercolor, photography, and illustrated tales, these pages uncover the blessing of ordinary days and the wonder found in authentic places and pursuits.
I invite you to open the boxes.
Peek into the drawers.
Rustle through the pages.
I’m honored to have you here.
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