scenes from the farm

Every year we transport ourselves from the middle of the country to pretty far down the southeast corner.  It's a huge gathering of family on my father's side, and my grandmother who is nearly ninety-seven, is still there in the center of it.  We left colder weather and left our coats in the car.  We ate barbeque till our hands and cheeks were stained, and left plates full of bones.  We found the dirtiest, rustiest, simplest things the most fascinating, and we wandered around the cotton and threw frisbees and footballs and tried (almost successfully) to avoid the fire ant beds and the bees.  And of course, we ate way too much - which is a testament to those who do all the cooking and the baking.  If I could figure out how to balance a triple layer cake on my knees for seventeen hours in the car, I'd be all over some of those recipes.  But we just stretch our legs out, run a few circles around the yard to get the circulation going again, and then feast.  And there's a whole lot of gratefulness while we're doing it.

(last) friday finds: nothing "black" about it

We skipped the crazy crowds on Friday and opted to do our shopping and eating in a downtown not too far from the farm.  We found ourselves on twisty stools eating ice cream before noon.  I've really come to love the habit of finding interesting and unique things while I'm wandering around on Fridays, and although this city is nowhere near my local (think 33 hours spent in the car over the five days!), it's still a nice collection of small businesses, and not a line (or parking lot) in sight.  We had a hard time pulling ourselves out of that bookstore, but lunch (a real one, not an ice cream one) was waiting.

I hope you found something interesting and unique last Friday - whether it was in the crowds, or well outside of them.  Share if you'd like.

back from the farm

We're back from the farm, and a little bit cleaner.  Hope you had a wonderful Thanksgiving.

gratitude

Yesterday I was lamenting what is lost.  Today that sadness may still linger, but I appreciate the time and space devoted to the gift of gratitude.  I'm thankful for so many things, and thankful that I am able to name them and speak to them on a daily basis here.  Thank you for sharing a bit of this space as well.

I'll leave you with my favorite words on gratitude, as shared each year in E's school:

 

Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life.  It turns what we have into enough, and more.  It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity.  It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend.  Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow.

-Melody Beattie

 

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving.

bittersweet

I found out yesterday that the bakery around the block from our house is closing, and the final two days were this week.  Rarely a week goes by that we aren't in there - E's artwork hangs on the wall behind the counter, and F stakes out her favorite chair of her favorite table as soon as she enters the door.  We missed it last Friday - the day was just too busy, and now I regret it.  F and I dashed over in the rain to say goodbye and to pick up as many of our favorite things while we could.  I love their rosemary bagels - it's a love affair that I'm not ashamed to admit, and I bought eighteen of them and they reside in our freezer now.  I should have bought jam - I love the jam.  But I also love the savory pastries, the incredible quiches, the house made ice cream, my girls' birthday cakes... the list goes on and on.  I understand the owner's desire to find balance in her life between the demands of a bakery and family life with two little ones.  I'm happy for her, but it's still so bittersweet.  Having places like this in the neighborhood is what makes city living so good.

We ate cakes tonight (mini ones) and I thought about my favorite Thanksgiving cake that will be absent from the table this year.  It has been a year of missing things - missing people that we love, saying goodbye before we were ready to.  I know it's just a bakery, but still.  We kind of like life to stay the same, don't we?

fair weathered fan

E finished up her outdoor soccer season several weeks ago, but had a stray tournament game on Friday night.  Friday was a crazy busy day, and the weather had turned colder and the wind had picked up, and the game was at night, long past F's bedtime.  All of these were good reasons for the whole family not to attend, and it was decided that I was the one who would stay home while M attended.  I love watching the game, and I was sorry to miss her last one, but I'm going to admit that I didn't feel all that badly.  In fact, I felt a little relieved.  Cold+wind+ancy toddler+long day=not a lot of fun.  They came home wind burned and chilled to the bone.  I was warm and had been baking chocolate cupcakes.

Yesterday morning M was packing up the truck for a two day camping trip with E's class.  He went on the last one, and he also volunteered for this one.  The morning was cold and blustery, and rain and storms were in the forcast.  As I headed out the door to work, E grabbed me fiercely around the waste and apologized that I was missing out on the camping trip yet again.  "I promise," she said earnestly.  "Next time, you can go."  I smiled and wished her a good time, and spent the rest of the day in my warm, dry, quiet office thinking fondly of that cold, wet group tromping through the woods and thanking my lucky stars for willing dads.

would ya look at that

No more foam core!  And it only took two-and-a-half years to do it!

I wasn't kidding when I said we were tackling some of the window issues in F's room.  We ordered the blinds from Smith+Noble - they are similar to the ones in E's room, but those were from Home Depot, and we've not been really pleased with the way they hang, so we opted for a little upgrade with these.  I got the camera out to photograph the installation and one very happy (and curious) resident, and as soon as they were installed and opened and closed a few times, F grabbed her Prudence and jumped on the window seat saying "Mommy, take my picture with Prudence and my new window."  And then she smiled this fake-camera smile while I snapped and immediately demanded to see the camera screen.  So much for feeling like I photograph my children without them ever really realizing it...

The next photos weren't posed - it's the kind of activity that happens around here when I simultaneously thank my lucky stars for big sisters, want to sit down in the corner and watch them interact like this, and work like mad to get something done (laundry/dinner/vacuuming) while the peace persists.  I'm frequently torn.  That night I just watched (and photographed).  The laundry can wait.

Is it just me, or do they look older?

sunset

Friday was a bit of a whirlwind, and F didn't get down for a nap until pretty late.  When she woke up, I was the only one home, and we played a few games and worked a few puzzles in the quiet of the house.  The view out her windows of the sun setting over the rooftops and the church steeples is usually a good one, but on that afternoon the sky was particularly stunning.  The colors outside of the window are distracting to me in these photos - they look like the colors on a cheap romance novel, or the cover of Gone with the Wind that I read in eighth grade.  But never fear - Tara (or our neighbor's house) was not burning in the background as we played round after round of the picnic game.

All is well, inside the house, and out.

friday finds: pasta thief

Her cheeks may be chubby, but not that chubby.  This Friday finds us in the kitchen, both before and after E's Feast of Thanks at her school today.  F's favorite thing to find herself doing is cooking.  "I cook with you?" she asks anytime you get remotely close to the kitchen.  This morning we were making a pasta dish and corn muffins.  The pasta was cooked, the sauce was simmering on the stove, and she was supposed to be tearing the spinach leaves into bite sized pieces.  Usually tearing is great fun but today there was a distraction.  

Proper technique...

...but don't let the busy hands fool you.  The cheeks don't lie.

She rallied a bit for the cornbread.  One time I taught her to whisk to the tune of Ring Around The Rosy, and now she'll do nothing else.  You should see the pouf of flour when "they all fall down".

And after a busy morning, we found ourselves feasting with friends that are like family, and expressed our gratitude to the school community that we are so lucky to be a part of. 

I hope you found something good to eat (or bake) today.  Friday full cheeks, perhaps.  Share if you'd like.

this time last year*

*Okay, who am I kidding?  This was more like six days before Christmas.

I was working on Christmas photo calendars for the family and so I had my head in key photos of the last year.  That's when I discovered these photos and realized that I never posted them.  And since a lot of the things I'm working on right now are top secret, this seemed like a good placeholder.  I loved these cards but to make one hundred of them was quite the undertaking.  I tackle one piece of them at a time and then duplicate it over and over again rather than do a card from start to finish.  I think that's more efficient, but it also means it is hard to get an accurate idea of the amount of time that each card will take.  Which means that I never actually do the math in my head to multiply that number by one hundred.  Which means I enter into the project with optimism, joy and a blatant disregard for reality.  Sounds like the holidays to me!

At some point I was forced to accept reality, and do the math, and I calculated over an hour per card - something like 72 minutes - start to finish.  The scoring, the folding of white, the scoring, the folding of blue, the drawing, the cutting, the gluing in three stages under heavy books, the application of additional paper ornaments, the painting of the snow, the folding, the stuffing, the sealing, the addressing, the stamping... you get the picture.  But still, I'd have to say that I enjoyed every last minute of it (with the exception of maybe the ten minutes it took me to calculate that time).  I got all but six done before the holidays, I finished the last few just after and the earth didn't stop its orbit around the sun.

This year will be different.  That's what I'm telling myself at least...  Happy holiday making to you all.

admiring

I was very struck by these lovely paper flowers when I saw them.  And then I realized what is triggered in me when I see something that I truly think is beautiful.  I instantly want those materials in front of me, as well as an open stretch of afternoon and no interruptions.  Not to copy what is there, but to just be open to the possiblity of creating something beautiful. 

Which reminds me - I have a BIG project in mind for after the holidays, and after getting further down the road on my sister's house project.  I'm so excited!  (About it all - the holidays!  My sister's house!  My BIG idea!)

Flowers by Thuss and Farrell via Anthology, via Simple Lovely

a love letter to my daughter

I always write letters to the girls at significant milestones like birthdays.  The birthdays are flying by now at a rapid pace, but still, the years in between those dates stretch out into many moments that I want to savor and remember.  And sometimes a letter forms in my head during these moments and I think about what I would say to her right then if she were listening, and what I would say to her grown-self as I imagine her thinking back to the days of her littleness.  How much of it all is remembered, and what filters will slip into place over these memories?   What will retain significance, what will grow in meaning, and what treasures will slip away on a gentle wave, out to sea, never to return?  I suppose my letters take some of those treasures and apply them to paper, coil them up in a tight cylinder and slide them into a glass green bottle.  I have no idea if they will ever be read again - will I be around long enough to pull them back out of the surf?  Will she?  No matter.  They are still there and they will be what they need to be as she grows, and I grow and time passes too quickly for my liking.  Too, too quickly.

On Saturday afternoon E and I went to see Billy Elliot at the Fox.  We do things together all the time, but there is still something so rare and special about attending an event like this with each other that I love.  It's like the rare date with your husband without all the babysitting arranging and hoopla involved in getting out the door for a bit of escape.  It felt so good to stay in pajamas until noon, and then clean up after lunch and do just that - escape.  I watched the corner of her face in the rearview mirror, watched her gazing out the window while she talked.  I followed her eyes just as I was following the road, trying to see what she sees, what she notices, what she takes in.  She poured out of the backseat, miles and miles of lanky legs that grow each day, and she slipped her hand in mine without a bit of hesitation.  This age is magical.  You can catch glimpses of a teenager and a woman and a school girl and a toddler in her face, and you blame it on the lighting because if you acknowledge that it's more than that then your heart squeezes too tightly in your chest and you have to check the corners of your eyes for dampness.  She will catch you in those moments, and call you out on them.  She will turn to you in the darkness of the theatre and see the tears on your cheeks as Billy reads a letter from his dead mother and she will smile that knowing smile because she is smart and observant and she know your buttons better than you know them yourself.

I am the letter writer in the family, although M can write a good one, and won my heart that very way.  At the beginning of the school year E wrote a letter to us outlining her goals for herself for the school year.  We were asked by her teacher to write our own letter back to her.  It was one of those tasks that gets filed away on the to-do list, and because it does not exist as a handout or form or invoice it never surfaces to the top of the pile.  After a friendly reminder or two, M sat down to write it himself while I sat through a long and difficult meeting somewhere else.  When I came home exhausted and drained with my head pounding and swimming at the same time, he handed me the letter and invited my input as well.  I took a deep breath, shifted my focus, and read.

Dear Ella,

We are proud of the work you are doing in school and have a few goals for you this year. First, we would like to see you continue to improve your hand writing skills by practicing your careful and neat writing. You have very creative story ideas and we would like to see you get them on the page without being frustrated by spelling, crowding, and messy writing. We know you have been interested in cursive for a long time, so maybe you'll get a chance to start learning that!

One of our favorite things about you is your creativity with art projects. Our goal is for you to continue to be open minded about trying new things and not getting frustrated if they don't turn out exactly as you planned. We would like you to remember that art is an experiment and may take more than one try to get the results you want – especially if it is the first time you are trying a certain project.

We really enjoy helping you with your math homework and watching you learn about numbers. We hope you find new and creative ways to use numbers, and get a better understanding of how numbers relate to each other. We also hope that you notice how your school uses math in some pretty cool ways outside of “math class” (like menu planning for culinary arts and budget planning for your field trips, just to mention a few).

Finally, we love seeing you perform. Whether it is out on the soccer field, in a violin concert, or standing in front of a group presenting your ideas. We would like to see you continue to be brave, speak with confidence and have fun with everything you do.

Have a great year!

Love,

Mom & Dad

P.S. We forgot to say anything about reading! You are an incredible reader. Our goal is more for us than for you – we want to make sure we always have a new and interesting book for you on your bookshelf or nightstand, even when you read it all in one night!

What a gorgeous letter, I had nothing to add.  I can see all the lovely things in my mind that I wish for her.  I can lace my fingers through hers and tip my forehead to hers and lose myself in a play, all the while wanting a promise that I will always be allowed to lace my fingers in hers, that it will always be that way.  I can marvel in the discussions we are able to have post-play about language and innuendo beyond her years, and know that she is growing up into a person that can be exposed to a variety of viewpoints and still maintain who she is.  But I cannot place all of that expectation, and the weight of all of those dreams on her eight-year-old shoulders.  I can wish for her happy cursive writing and creative math problems, always take the time to stop into a good bookstore, and celebrate her triumphs on the small stages she chooses to climb on.  The rest is a love letter to myself, to let her be, to savor these moments, to touch foreheads with her whenever I get the chance but to release those fingers when I need to, when she needs me to. 

park it

Here's the latest (and probably last) addition to the cityscape for my nephew.  The park.  I thought of putting a kite, but then the balloon seemed right.  And I love it.  I drew inspiration for the trees from the book Follow the Line, which was the starting point my sister gave me when she asked me to do this for C.  Once I finished the park, I really wanted to put these on the wall, step back and look at them for a few days.  And since M was at work (self-punishment for taking a vacation day on Friday) and E was still up (and suddenly hyper), we decided to hang them with museum putty and stand back and admire our my work.  She just thinks it's hers because I did so much of it in her room with her standing over my shoulder critiquing each cut and paste.

 

And here is the bed and the bedding in my nephew's room.  (That is not his orange room, although it is cute.  But very, very orange.)  His bed is from Room and Board, and the bedding is Dwell Studio's Skyline.  Below those are some photos of his room before he was even born, and the original artwork I made him for over his crib.

So E and I hung the canvases up over her bed, and then she thought that they needed to be spaced out a little more, and I agreed.  So I did. 

And then I looked at the park on both sides.  It balances out better next to the residential building but E likes it by the school for practical purposes.  To which I say that it's art and not reality... and besides, the park will certainly raise the property values of the adjacent condos.

And then there's the adorable crane that is kind of too small really to look right anywhere.  Except maybe on the roof of the school, working on the high rise commercial building.  And the helicopter.  Suspend it with wire?  Mount it directly to the canvas?  I love it, but I don't want it to look like it's about to crash into the building.  Happy art.

So, still thinking about a few things, and M has arrived home and is providing commentary behind me like - "There are cranes that go on top of buildings, but not that type of crane." and "What, no pigeons?"

Which means it's time to call it a night, and set this to post in the morning for your viewing pleasure.  Comments or suggestions welcome.