You know, I'm still having one of those Novembers. (I'm glad it's not just me.) I woke up at 4AM this morning and thought "S*&%! I haven't written today's blog post." I am a complete hot mess these past few weeks. Also, have you seen this pillow that Christine found for me? Need.)

All of this is to say that this perfection of a bundt cake showed up at the oh-my-gosh perfect time. My hour of need, you could say. I have an amazing neighbor named Autumn who is seriously one of the most impressive people I know. We live in a town with a super heavy military presence, and these families never fail to astonish me. It's not an easy life, for sure. Autumn's husband, who is in the Navy, has been deployed since July, and Autumn is home with their daughter who is just under a year old.

It all sounds pretty challenging in and of itself, doesn't it? Seriously, if Neel had been gone for those seven months of Callum's life, I might have gouged my eyeballs out. Well, add to it that their sweet chick was born with a significant congenital disorder that makes nearly every single aspect of her care more taxing. This is not my story to tell, and I want to protect their privacy, but while much of their young daughter's life has been joy filled and delightful, there's little that hasn't also been hard work.

For awhile there, Autumn needed help with an aspect of her daughter's care each evening so there was a rotating schedule where some of us would scoot over and spend a few minutes with them. I cherished those times, holding hands with a sweet and kicky baby (if my "baby" kicked me now, look out!) as the woman who was at first just my neighbor took care of her daughter and turned into my friend. There's a serenity about Autumn that shines through, no matter how many trials she seems to face. And now? Her baby girl is smiling and babbling and laughing, and they're under 30 days until Daddy comes home. That serenity is combined with joy. It's pretty nice to see.

So Autumn made us a bundt cake. Seriously! Us! Baking makes her happy, she said, and she shared! That she has so much on her (cake) plate and took the time to think of us (and my son who has been devouring it for dessert and breakfast all week), well, that tells you a little bit of how special she is.

It's all relative, I know, but in the middle of my messy November, I'm trying to remember Autumn, and maybe I can touch upon just a little of the grace she so obviously radiates. Will I get close? No way. But I can try.

The good thing (and really, it's good for us all) is that tonight I'm going out with some girlfriends I haven't seen in ages. Neel was supposed to have minor oral surgery, but that got canceled due to jury duty so he and Cal have a hoagie-filled "Man's Night" (this is what Cal called it when he was little, and the name stuck) planned. The way they're carrying on, I may never come back.

For five weekends now we've been trekking out toward First Landing State Park for a Sunday morning walk along the Chesapeake Bay. I'm not gonna lie. It was my brilliant idea in the first place. I just decided that I needed to do it, needed to go, and if I went by myself that would be okay. Luckily, everyone wanted to come with me.

Because Lucy needs the most exercise, we started with her first. Honestly? She's not the best beach dog. She's a bolter, and while I don't think she'd head off the beach and toward the busy street, it's too stressful to not be sure. So on the leash she stays. Which is fine, except for Lucy, the sand is BIG, the sky is BIG, the bay is BIG...well, you get the idea. She's an anxious little one.

We tried Thea next, and that's worked out much better for everyone, I think. Mellow on the car ride and mellow along the water, she's the best beach dog we have. She's content to sit with me if Cal and Neel are throwing the baseball, and if I say, "Let's go for a walk," she jumps up and is ready to plod along beside me. Sweet corgi looks so small on that vast beach.

Buster the bulldog, to the fore of that paddleboard.

Often times, we'll meet my friend Kim and her family for a walk with their bulldog Buster. If you follow me on Instagram, you may have seen Thea paddleboarding with Cal. It was Buster's paddleboard that Cal and Neel (and Thea) borrowed that gorgeous early October day.

A tanker ship rounds Cape Henry and heads to Norfolk, likely to the spot I can see from where I take all the shots from our river.

I've described to you before about how the layout of the land and water works here, and as you can see, we have so many options when it comes to taking in some beach or water time. Endless marshes or rivers aside, it's always remarkable to me that you can think to yourself, "Bay or ocean today?" Even on the bay, there are different landscapes, and further up things feel calmer while here at the mouth the world seems more wild.

I never would have dreamed you could pull me away from the ocean, but I've come, I think, to love this spot the best. I love the curve of the land as it bends around Cape Henry and I love that we're in the place where the great Chesapeake Bay meets the Atlantic Ocean. I love it that this is where the first settlers landed when they first came to America, and I love seeing the naval might and the industry of our country travel these waters. I feel connected to the earth in a way here that doesn't happen on pavement or city streets.

The weather has been different each time we've gone, with wind and wave marching changeable patterns along the shore. Some days (like this past weekend), it's clear enough to see the cars traveling the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel in the distance. Others have been blustery and cool, with gray clouds scudding across the sky.

Will we make it deep into winter? I don't know. I hope so, and with Virginia winters, we're likely to get at least a Sunday or two here or there where we can go. Until then, this I treasure. Time with my family. Hearing Cal say each weekend, "We're going to the beach, aren't we?" Walking with a faithful pup by my side. My feet in the cool soft sand. The splash of a wave against the shore. This I cherish.

neighborly {still + life}

first landing {life}