late night, january 31st, 2014 | a letter to my oldest

who knew, stumbling upon this life of motherhood, i would love it so fiercely. nothing else has defined me as much and nothing ever will define me more. i am sure of this.

as i watch you gallop away into the arms of adolescence, i hold back little sobs of joy.
 you love. you are fiercely loyal.
 you love to argue your points.
you are slowly becoming a man.

 as much as i love this, i would, in an instance, turn back time to walk down the doors of your childhood once more. drink cup after cup after cup of cup of tea made in your pretend kitchen. bake with you, play dinosaur with you. hide out in forts with you and camp again under the stars knowing that all is right with the world.

in my dreams, i sit on the edge of a long pier. my feet are dangling off the end and as i stare off into the expanse of the mist and layers of fog lifting off the lake, i see that i have worlds of unknown lives to still live, but i don't ever want to take the plunge, i don't want to heave off the end of the pier into the water, i don't want to stop being a mother to your littleness, i don't want you to be big and me to be older. and as much as i don't want it, i know it will still happen, even if i had ten more children, it would never stop you from leaping into the unknown of adulthood, and me watching your ripples slowly slip away as you swim out of sight.

xxoo

tummy blues and holiday spirit

much to my chagrin, another one of my merry men was felled by the ugly stomach bug, again.  don't tell his younger brother, who is very competitive with him these days, but the middle one had it much worse. yesterday, he didn't want me further than an arms length from him all day, so that meant the loads of holiday errands that need to be run, completed, and checked off are pushed back until next week as our weekend is incredibly, blessedly busy.  so i puttered around the house, not getting much done, other than cleaning the loads of laundry that now needed to be done, (notice I didn't say folding and putting away) and enjoying the grand privilege of wiping my son's face after each stomach purge. 

but we do have holiday spirit! the boys adore opening up the advent calendars sent to them by their grandmother (my husband's mother) and we have decked our tiny house with lights and wreaths and garland (i ran a wreath workshop/how-to at our church last weekend -it was so lovely to create and make -even my youngest delighted in the making).  then, with the left over wreath makings my youngest came home and built himself a  backyard shelter with wood and the cuttings (see photos in this post). it was super cute to see him out there on sunday, working away, ignoring american football. 

we will get a tree soon! the younger two want the tree up for the 12 days of Christmas so we have been holding off on getting one just yet as our house IS tiny and we have many creatures under one roof. i was looking at sparse subalpine fies (like over on terrain), but my youngest wants a big tree (frasier fir) with lots of branches so his can play with his stuffed animals in it.  last night, as i was trying to get him to sleep he bemoaned the fact that Chanukah was 8 nights of "presents." i told him we could open up the presents slower this year using the 12 days of Christmas. i am not sure he bought that idea, really, at all (though i love it -it feels like it would slow the frenzied Christmas spirit down a bit). what i truly think he was hoping for was more presents on top of the presents he is already planning on getting.  silly boy. 

today i am hoping for less vomiting and more merry-making. i am crossing my fingers that none of us get another round of this tummy bug. 

hope your weekend plans are looking merry and bright! 

xxoo

seven | school ready :: a guest post

A guest post on homeschooling, from Sarah Elwell, a poet and writer. If you haven't visited Sarah's blogs, Knitting the Wind, or gnossienne be prepared to have your heart stirred and soul moved. What I especially love about this post, is that there is so much to take away from it, whether you are homeschooling or sending your children to a more traditional school. We can all benefit from the different ways our children learn...especially in nature. 

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When I first began homeschooling, I didn't appreciate how vast our classroom would be. I had no internet in those days, and all my understanding of homeschooling was based on the scant few books I found at the local library. But the thing I did not realise back then, although I take it for granted now, is that when your heart is open to the world around you, the world opens its heart to you too.

Not even the best traditional school could provide the expert tuition children receive simply by being out in the daily life of regular society. From professionals to homeschooling parents, adults are endlessly welcoming and they actually like to share their knowledge. Firemen, paleontologists, zoo keepers, butterfly farmers, forensics officers, artists, potters, sportsmen, shopkeepers, ornothologists, geologists, historians, writers, flax weavers, lion wranglers ... There's no way one teacher, no matter how dedicated and brilliant, could replicate such breadth and depth of experience. And I don't see how any school could justify the resources needed to provide all the field trips homeschoolers can do easily and often.

And there's another great teacher from whom homeschoolers learn: nature. For example, our local homeschool group, on a woodland walk to sketch autumn leaves, found a stony river and the children spontaneously built a dam, learning about physics in the process. There was no need to insist on the leaf-sketching, nor to hurry them off at the end of an hour. We mothers sat in the sunshine, picnicking, discussing lesson plans and good books, while our children got on with their learning, socialising, and sheer fun.

Because they have regular opportunities to be outdoors, knee-deep in (and heart-full of) nature, a homeschooled child can develop a good weather eye, or an instinct for bird behaviour, or a deep connection with plants. They can sit for hours in the garden, counting bird species. They can go swimming in the sea on summer afternoons while school children are sweltering in classrooms. I know homeschooling children who forage for wild food, hand-rear baby birds, run backyard weather stations, tend their own vegetable gardens, and are experts on local wildlife. They may not necessarily know all the important dates of history (although then again they might) but they do know how to truly engage with the natural world.

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Thank you so much Sarah!  xxoo

the clickety clack call of the week's end

It is early here on this Sunday morning and the youngest has crawled into bed with us. He smells of boy, and in particular of a Saturday spent in the heated Indian Summer Fall, playing sports, relentless movement from morning till early evening. He smells of a slightly sweet sweat with a musty aroma of yesterday's dirt trapped under his nails and peppered across his brow; the smell of memories in an exhausted autumn sun, too tired to bath, too tired to keep eyes open at dinner.

Last weekend he smelled of nothing but roasted marshmallows and the unseen cloud of a campfire.

All of these smells are filled up with memories for this mama, sitting here, sorting through photos and listening to the sound of our youngest breathe a sweet sleepy early morning breath. In my mind I am sorting memories of this moment, memories of this weekend and last; sorting memories of the arch of my life, the pulling back of the bow and the taught string that sends an arrow flying high towards its intended target.

So I write some down. Trying to trap the scents on paper as one would trap a firefly in a glass jar, trying to momentarily hold onto to something that really is intangible, that exists only on the threshold between day and night, in those stolen moments of the sun chasing the moon through the heavens across the sky.

how has your weekend been? xo

October.

on roads. 

well traveled ones can be the less traveled ones too. 

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welcome October. 

xxoo

gratefulness

It is very early here on the west coast. 

I have, in this moment, before the sky stretches from black to gray-blue, a cat curled up next to me in the bed (purring deeply), hot coffee on my nightstand, crisp air floating in from the open windows and a profound sense of gratitude for all the tiny things in my life that make me smile and fill my soul with meaning. I truly love moments when I can stop all the churning in my mind, and all the busy making in my life, and just feel grateful.

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A while back, in one of those weird poetic moments that come over me, I wrote on Facebook

 that you don't have to be religious, or even believe in God, to know what it feels like to be blessed. Do you find that's true? I hope you do. happy monday friends. xxoo

capturing the week{'s end}

what is happiness

happiness is a walk in the woods with my boys, high above the world. contentment. happy lucky me watching them build dams. running with their dad. freeing themselves, momentarily, of the chains of the day to day. stretching out, making-up stories, heralding their imagination to the moon.

well hello july!

Oh the magic of July,
                     the long stretch of summer and all of her freedom.
A month defined by no school whatsoever, blissful heat, long days, swimming, & playing. It is in these sweet moments that I imagine that life as it is could stretch on forever. I ignore the siren call of the return to school in August, instead I dream of foraging new adventures with the boys, digging deep in gardens and late evenings under the stars.  I must reassure you, so that I don't represent any sort of false magical tale, that is not always cheery here. There is grumpiness, and sometimes the days seem too long with a lack of activities to conjure up, but in this first day of July, it is so delightful to dream of adventures ahead and linger over the memories already made.

What will be a part of your memory making this month? School holidays? Summer sweat? Hot stifling rooms and the whirring of a fan as it gently moves the air, trying so hard to cool over heated bodies.  Any mucking amidst creek banks or wading into cool blue pools? Or is it winter there? An eager approach to the days slowly getting longer?  A holding onto ear muffs, hats and scarves during brisk walks by the shore?
                         I would so love to know. xxoo

cake, mud and footed pajamas.

watching my youngest live fully into his first full day of summer vacation yesterday made me all sorts of happy.

reflecting on love

hello monday!....

you have me thinking about love dear monday: the love that it takes when it is hard, the love that it takes when it is new, the love that it takes to pull your self up and wipe yourself when you have messed up, the love that it takes to make something work. it is not always pretty. sacrifice and compromise are often the name of the game in a well sorted partnership. you have me thinking about this all dear monday.

midweek messiness: rearranging furniture. plotting out priorities.

my house feels ordered for once. I spent the weekend cleaning, sweeping and pushing around furniture to get at the dust clots clogging up the underneath of things. I especially appreciate that the boys pitched in, not only cleaning their rooms and their bathroom, but they helped fold the laundry as well...it may have not been perfect but it was done.  Once I started to move the furniture around to get after all the dusty furry things, I couldn't stop and ended up rearranging my living room. There is something to be said for rearranging your furniture. For me it as always been therapeutic. I find that moving around the furniture frees up clogged spirits and puts life, and my furniture, in a whole new perspective.  Even though it is a trifle annoying to my number one, I find it liberating. I feel as if things are a bit more in focus for me. I suppose part of it is that I am a very visual person, and when the house always looks the same, my eyes feel bored and uninspired.

As the house was more in order, yesterday I was able to get out into our backyard and plot out a bit more of our garden. The dogs have torn up a bit of the grass and I am debating fencing that part off to grow vegetables and squash there. Number One is not so sure as it prevents the boys having free reign to run straight across the yard; they will have to navigate a bit more....but I love the idea of having a bit more produce this fall that is grown by us. The boys love gardening so I think they may get behind the idea. We will have to put it to a vote of some sorts before the weekend. We have a bit more flexibility in planting schedules as we live in a more temperate climate, but if we want squash, we need to plant this weekend so we can take advantage of the full summer sun.

Lou over at a littlegreenshed asked for green this week for her Nature in the Home series, so I took a photo of a cutting from the jade plant in our backyard. I am glad this was the theme this week as this little cutting has been a bit ignored by me, sitting on the windowsill in the kitchen. I now see that she is ready to be potted; she has sprouted some healthy roots. It took a while but they are there! 

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What are you plotting, cleaning, and growing in your home this week? I would love to know. xxoo

in grounding.

i love these crisp days, when the wind lifts my hair off my face and plays with the bare space across my neck.  delighted by the earthy scents and tug of the spring, i find that my mind drifts, too much it seems in this itchy playful spring time wind. my heart, she wanders too. she lingers out into the wind and longs to fly kites in the clouds. my restless body wants nothing more than to skip out across our neighborhood and dip my toes in the cold splashing spring watered ocean.

midweek messiness & flowers to boot

life is often the dance of the stitch in between the thread of the needle and the cloth that binds it. that small space that closes down on the looping string and the scrubbed patch of cotton. the hollow embroidery & the test of the needle against your skin. 

life fills me up messy some days. even when the stitch is tight and the the day is all mended. life means messy. & beautiful. acrid. unclear. sweet. gooey. loving. unkind. passionate. dull. I keep searching for all the ways that I am supposed to make myself work a bit better. make life a bit neater. fix wounds and tie shoelaces and unlock the secrets shelved in

What Makes a Home?

Wondering if my house is a home....

We have lived here for a year and half now, and I wonder, do we, as a family, feel at home?

Does a house feel like a home when things come together and the house is clean and the windows sparkle? Or is it when I bake something that smells really good?
Some days I feel like my house smells like my boys' dirty feet and the the only thing wafting through the air is the stink of muddy dog paws.
What makes a house a Home?
Is it in the moment you realize you are ready for guests? Or is it that moment when you realize your heart brightens when you see the front door after a long day?




Is it when the plants say hello? When they say, "I am cared for, I have not been left to drought and famine of water, and you will be taken care of too." At my house, my plants are often forgotten.
I do so try not to let any of them wilt away.

There are things that I think, that make my house a home. There are pictures on the wall that are hung. However, they are often crooked and not dusted properly.  Occasionally I find a piece of food flung by the boys smeared across a frame and I wonder...how did that get there?

What makes a house a home? Is it treasured things that you are willing to share with the people who come over? Things that are important and significant to you?What makes a house a home? 

I have baskets on the bookshelf I recently repainted.  I have beloved books there too.  I so mean to re-read many of them...but there is so little time these days.  And the baskets! they are beloved as well. They are fair trade and a gift to me from me.  I got them with the intention that I would use them for the farmer's markets on Saturday. But between all the busy things going on during our precious moments on the weekends as a family, it is rare that I gather the bunch and peruse the bounty there.

In attempt to make our house a home, I painted the walls of my living room and dining room and kitchen. The dining room opens into the kitchen and they are both painted Benjamin Moore's Midnight Desert. The living is two-toned. I adore it. The top color is BM's Revere Pewter, below is BM's Cinnamon Raison (a name that doesn't do this dusty red color justice -truly). The color is as close as match as I could find to Farrow&Ball's 'Rectory Red.' I divided the two colors with a clean black line.  It is nice to have color to help claim this shabby (yet expensive!) rental as our own.

I have an old wooden cabinet/hutch that I paid 50 dollars for several years ago. It is not flashy, yet at the same time, it seems almost tooooo fancy for our usual taste; but I adore it.  It was $50. I rarely have the entrepenuership to find such a thrifty gem. In this hutch, on our "fancy" display shelves, I have dishes and platters from our wedding registry.
I have added saucers and sugar bowls from a big box store.
I have pinecones I have found. I have rocks the boys have claimed as their own. There is the occasional seashell.  Ceramic treasures are there too, made by the boys at school. And there is most definitely plates to eat on & glasses to drink from.

I have flour that is ready to be made into some sort of something yummy.  However it is waiting. The sugar does not wait as it often gets sprinkled in tea and the like. I have bowls of fruit that ask to be eaten. More often than not, they are. Apples and bananas and pears don't last long in our house.  But does any of this make it a home?

What makes a home?

 Truly, I should just delete this all because really for me...
It is when I tuck my boys in at night, brush their hair from their foreheads and know that the love I have in my heart for them is the most fundamental foundation in my life; and that they are, those unruly, smelly, loud stinkers who seem so very impossible, they are actually the greatest chef d'oeuvre, the greatest masterpiece I could ever actually add to my house Home. 

I think you know that you are Home when you understand in your heart that the love you hold for your family, (whether it is just you+books, or cat, or partner, or you actually have minions running around) is absolutely unconditional and very intangible.  That this love will never be available to purchase online or to shop for in stores.

And for that knowledge, for a simple understanding of that love, I have no way to bottle it.
                                                                              I have no picture at all.

XXOO