We were eating pancakes on the porch this morning and, looking at this scene, I thought:  this is it, this is how I want to remember my life.  This is the real, the magical in the mundane, our particular brand of domestic bliss.  Domestic chaos.

Observed:  the ratty prayer flags overhead, Z throwing bananas and hooting about pancakes in her antique "transformer" highchair, two dogs begging (and one rooting through weeds underneath the porch), two cats hanging around hoping for handouts and one yanging behind a screen door.  F has just picked a pink lily, the kind that have been growing by our front porch for years and always remind me of Bo's mother.  Scarlet roses for the backdrop, a bin of our own raspberries on the table, a jar of maple syrup made by our friends.