For awhile now, I've thought of documenting a day in photos.  Of course, time and chores get away from me and I don't.  Yesterday, I came pretty close.



In the morning, I made a rhubarb pie, just rhubarb.  Roan came with me to collect the rhubarb from a neighbor's garden across our tiny street.  Willow doesn't like wet grass, so she stayed home.  I made my first pie crust with lard and it turned out really well--easy to form and very flaky once baked.  Roan stayed on my back and Willow sang the "choppity chop" song while pretending various leaves were different people.



After the pie, I rinsed the tie dye from the night before and washed it.  Then I hung it on a rack on the sidewalk with the diapers that were already out there.  Mike had forgotten to put them in the dryer the night before, so I took advantage of the sunshine.



Willow gave Virginia a bath while I cleaned up from lunch.  I think Roan was on my back.  It's hard to remember.  He's up and down so much during the day.



Mike came home for lunch after we ate ours and had me take a picture of the rhubarb pie.  He asked me to bring it to the dining room to do the photos, but I was in a hurry.  We had plans to go see Carrie.  Roan still hadn't had a nap, which is very different for him.  I think he's getting ready to go to just one nap a day.



We went over to Carrie's and Roan took a nap on her big bed.  During this time, Carrie made a tent for Willow under the clothesline using her sheets she uses for covering the plants in cold weather.  We came inside for "tea" and then Roan woke up.  We went back out the tent and puttered around in the garden a bit.  Carrie and I lamented about how we hadn't gotten much done and I hadn't made the beds, but really, we had been very productive.



Back home, I had some pie and finally made the beds, dyed some more handkerchiefs and re-dyed a silk, Willow ran in the sprinkler, fell on the sidewalk and got all scraped up, got doctored and snuggled, and we played on the couch after Roan fell asleep.  Now that we've dyed some silk handkerchiefs, Virginia can dress just like Willow.  We read Peter in Blueberry Land and then went to sleep.

Mike starts his vacation today, so I am excited to see what the next week holds!

For the coming months, we will likely have a Garden Day around here, as we work to get plants into the ground, seeds harvested and so forth.  It won't be long before we'll have berries and every day will be Garden Day for a few weeks.  Sometimes, the particular day's activity takes only fifteen minutes or so, but it's enough to keep us moving along with our rhythm.  This week, we planted basil.



Our television time continues to be very limited these days and I am especially thankful for that.  The hour that we see each night has been enough to impact Willow and she identifies items from commercials while we are in stores.  She saw someone on TV making basil ice cream and has it in her mind that she simply must have some.  I've found a recipe and it seems we will have some, sooner rather than later.  I'm wondering what she'll think when she tastes it.  And, what I'll think.

I wish I could take pictures of the plans I have in my head, but I can't.  I have a lot swirling around up there.  I guess it doesn't count quite at much as the things that have really been made in the past week, so here they are.



I made a rose-breasted grosbeak for my mother.  She has an acorn-shaped birdhouse that was given to her and needed a bird for it.  I chose this bird out of my Audubon guide as its colors were simple and vibrant, no subtle blends to take up extra time when little people are at my feet.  I left the feet as plain wire so that he may be perched wherever.



And I also made another dress for Virginia.  This one has long sleeves and matches Willow's short sleeved version.  Sleeve is a funny word, now that I look at it.  I think I've gotten the hang of up-sizing the pattern for her size.  I don't intend to make a dress for her every week, but I do have one final dress I'll sew, thanks to Aimee's help with pillowcases.  Speaking of pillowcases, I did make Willow's dress and completely forgot to take a picture of it.  Maybe next week will just be a post of pillow case dresses.  Who knows?

For more crafting, visit Frontier Dreams!

The lupines are blooming.



Self-proclaimed Lazy Gardener that I am,
I made certain to soak the seeds before I planted them.



Have you read Miss Rumphius?
It's a wonderful story about a little girl who lives by the sea.



Her grandfather is an artist, making figureheads for ships and paintings of far-off places.



She loves her grandfather and wants very much to be like him,



So she goes to faraway places,



Lives by the sea when she grows old,
and agrees to his challenge to make the world more beautiful.



But, she has a little trouble with that.
Many months in bed with a bad back inspire her.



And when she is well again,
she sees that the flowers she planted outside her window have spread.



So, she walks the highways and lanes of her home,
sprinkling lupine seeds everywhere she goes.
And soon, her back doesn't hurt her anymore.



The flowers spread and she becomes The Lupine Lady.
More years pass, and children come to her for stories,
just as she did with her grandfather all those years ago.



She offers the same challenge that was given to her:
Make the world a more beautiful place.

It seems we've been moving at a frenzied pace around here lately.  It's May.  And we've gone through nearly two tanks of gas this week with various appointments and outings.  I completely skipped over the Naturalist Rally in favor of staying home to do chores and mow the yard.  Not all the driving was for business, we had pleasure, too.



We went back to see the Rhododendrons.



And to see what else we could find along the hillside,
like this Jack in the Pulpit



and this Solomon's Seal.



We found some things for the nature table and
Willow located the first Fall leaf to bring home. 
Or at least one that was gold.



It was sun and shade,
as the trees are getting full of leaves



and the wild blueberries are beginning to bloom!



We found one of last year's chestnuts,
an American one, if I had to guess.
Willow crushed it open with her foot
and examined it before tossing it away,
because that's what you do with nuts.



The night before was clear,
giving way to temperatures in the 40s,
but the sun was warm.



And look!  It's me!  Bonus!

We had to take Willow to the dentist this morning.  She has three non-painful cavities that will need filling, despite my best efforts here at home.  While the people were nice, the overall experience has left me feeling saddened.  The way children are treated in mainstream culture is simply demeaning.  TV, sedating drugs, cheap plastic toys--they're all symptoms of how little the early years are valued.  I need nature today, some time outside to feel better about it all, to know that our lives are what we make them.  Until I can get outside, I will remember this photo from yesterday: the fog rising over the mountain in Laurel Bloomery.  I am so thankful for our little home and family.  Extra hugs and snuggles today.

Mike and I jokingly documented our entire weekend, car rides, diaper changes, and so forth.  You see, it was his oldest sister's final visit to our home as she is moving to England after her wedding in August.  So here, things we have been eating lately and some other deep thoughts.



That blackberry jam on an English muffin. 



And how we do Greek yogurt.  I just buy plain and strain it.



Biscuits made with lard.  It makes AMAZING biscuits.  No, we didn't feed them to the vegetarian.



Here's the thing.  I don't tell most of my real-life friends about my blog.  I think Stacy and Aimee are it.  Oh, and Anna, but she's often outside growing something and can't be bothered. ;-)



It's kind of like my own little private oasis.  I come here to check up on you all, see what you're doing and who's got a new baby (which is always loads of fun).  I come here to write about things and feel better about them, to remember when we picked the berries or went on the hike.  To be my real self, the parts of me that I don't show off on Facebook or in e-mails.  I'm still a little bit censored, but I am really radical, so I have to turn it down.  No, really. 



Many of you have friends-only journals and I really appreciate you all letting me into your lives.  Some day, I might go friends-only, but for now I just lurk over here, sending links to people I trust.  When my family found my old journal username, they found me through Google, looking for an obscure local landmark.  Funny how that works out. 



For all the journals I bought and started as a young person, Livejournal has been the one thing I've kept up with and it hasn't let me down.  I love the support I find here, the different perspectives I get to learn about from the blogging world.  I am so blessed to be here. 



It looks like all we eat is bread, doesn't it?  Nope.  See?  We were eating salads, too.  But Mike loves to photograph baked goods, as do I.  A pumpkin pancake that Mike says looks like a tree.  I think it looks like a placenta.  What do you think?

I started to let The Voices get to me yesterday.  You know The Voices, the ones that say you aren't doing this parenting thing well enough or that your child is somehow Not Awesome Like You Thought.  Okay, your voices might say different things, but that's what they were telling me yesterday.

Sometimes I feel so alone in my personal philosophy regarding children.  Like really alone.  I have one local friend who is on the same page as me, but she's often so busy that I find it hard to be her friend.  I've tried various on-line forums, but they are either too busy (like a whole forum on the topic of circumcision) or too quiet (waiting over 24 hours for a response or being the resident "expert" when I am so not).  My go-to reading for encouragement in this sphere is The Parent's Tao Te Ching.  It helps me to know that my complicated job is simple.  I'm also perpetually half-way through Unconditional Parenting.  I need to finish it since I was just getting to the real substance of the book.

I believe children are our equals, not in experience, but in worth.  They deserve respect instead of funny sing-song voices.  They deserve their feelings to be considered as real, valuable parts of the decision-making process.  They deserve, as my friend Susan once said, to be seen and not hurt.  I seem to find myself in the midst of family and a world that doesn't believe that.  As if there is somehow a value to be accrued once the calendar turns from childhood to adulthood.  It's almost as if childhood is a sort of hazing ritual that everyone has to endure to come out and be full members of society.

I know it's not like this all the time.  I know people whose families are healthy and happy and loving.  And they really are.  They take the hard times in stride and bask in the good times.  We are trying to be one of those families.  I think we do really well with the day-to-day but struggle when we have to relate to other people.  We do fine with friends and neighbors, people who seem to genuinely like and trust us.  But family, oh, family.  We struggle so much with family, mainly mine.

The stakes are high, yes, but not so high that we can't enjoy ourselves when we're together.  I don't like feeling like I'm under constant surveillance when I'm around family.  I was told, when Willow was very little, that I would have to let her cry herself to sleep at some point.  I never did.  I can't imagine these other so-called have-to's of parenting are really mandatory.  Visiting any family without agenda would be nice for a change.

There's a double standard I suffer from, the one that says people are who they are, unless they're children.  It hurts me so.  The things we expect from children would make adults "foam at the mouth" (as Stacy would say).  When I let this double standard get to me, I start to lose sight of what I'm really doing.  I'm not just getting a child to do what I say in a certain amount of time.  I am introducing my children to the world, in all of it its wonder and complexity.

I've said before that the weekly rhythm is as much for me as it is for Willow.  Yesterday was one of those times that reminded me.  We made Mike's Aunt Mary's brownies together, me measuring and Willow pouring in the ingredients.  In that meaningful work, my child transformed from wild and listless to productive and useful.  She was always there, but my vision was clouded by careless words.  She spent the evening playing with eight or so tiny squares of felt I had in my sewing machine drawer and I helped her to sleep with her tiny back pressed against mine.  It won't always be this way, but there's always something new and wonderful to replace it.

Children raised with love and compassion will be free to use their time as adults in meaningful and creative ways, rather than expressing their childhood hurts... If adults have no need to live in the past, they can live fully in the present.

~Jan Hunt :: The Natural Child

I've been very excited about sewing in the past week or so, even though both of my machines were not working at full capacity.  My new machine had the bobbin case loose and my old machine wouldn't wind bobbins.  Turns out the first was full of lint (like a whole load of clothes in the dryer!) and the second was needing some oil.  My dad got me back in working order while Roan showed him that he could open his tool box.  I have plans to further oil and maintenance my machines today.



And here's what I've been making.  A new nightgown for Willow and Virginia both.  Willow's is a long version of the standard dress I make her.  The center of the skirt is very long and the ruffle is the usual pattern length.  Virginia's gown is an up-sized version of the pattern I have from Magic Cabin for Waldorf doll dresses.  She's getting another today to match this dress.



The fabric is covered in some very sweet kitties and flowers and fishes.  Had a 1960's look to it.  I made a pair of shorts/bloomers for Willow to go under her dress, much like Virginia's undies she came with that have lace along the bottom.  This might be the second time in my life I've ever sewn lace onto something.  The first was a receiving blanket I made in third grade.  Willow and Virginia wore their gowns all night and into most of yesterday and then Willow changed into cloths (as did Virginia) and they both went to bed.



In other news, I made blackberry jam using berries Mike picked last Summer.  I used a quart of berries and a cup or so of sugar, cooked it for awhile, let it cool, and turned it into the most wonderful kefir ice cream.  I think that blackberries may be the perfect match for kefir ice cream.

For today, another coordinating Virginia dress and a go at a pillowcase dress (since Hanna Andersson has them in their catalog this year).

For more crafting posts, visit Frontier Dreams!

We had a new tradition of getting back to the land after family visits or holidays.  It started some time last year and has stuck.  We did it on Christmas and we did it again yesterday.  As exciting as it is to have guests, it is also very trying for Willow.  She's sensitive, always has been.  Even when she was a baby, she would cry excessively when we were away from home or had guests at ours.  A walk outside or the guests going home fixed it, immediately.  Crying has given way to tantrums and we had one each day of this past weekend.

And so it is that we got into the car and drove away from people again, into the woods in search of a lake we didn't find.  We did, however, find the Catawba Rhododendron blooming, which was a lovely surprise.  We have it nearly coming out our ears here, but it doesn't bloom very often, or at least in the dense shaded thickets where we often find it.  It's the same Rhododendron that covers Roan's namesake mountain.  We're planning a trip there as soon as we know they're blooming. 

We drove along for some time, quite uncertain where we were going, offering various theories of where we might come out.  And then we came out in Camp.  Turns out we had driven a road we've taken before, just from the opposite end.  I could tell the moment I saw the old growth hemlocks.  We did eventually find the road we think goes to the lake, but it was gated, so we decided to study the map a bit and try again later.

We came home to a supper of Aimee's eggs, bacon, English muffins, frozen raspberries and yogurt with maple syrup.  That's how we like it.  Every day, I grow in my appreciation for the seemingly mundane everyday life.

For the first time in a long time, I had symptoms of anxiety yesterday.  Or I got overheated.  Not really sure, but I felt like I was going to faint at one point and so the day took a more restful turn.  I'm going to blame the heat and anxiety.  It was in the upper 80s yesterday and we have company coming today that will be sleeping in Willow's room.  So, yeah.  Both.

Anyway, Mike got lunch together and we ate and I felt cautiously better, but my big to-do list shortened considerably.  Instances like this are signals we need to slow down, I think.  Roan blessed us with an afternoon nap and Willow and I watched Jamie at Home on the youtube we stream to our TV, inspired by Felicia.  We made cakes (Willow makes an excellent mushroom cake) and tea together and generally did the kinds of things that I wish we could do together every day.  And while I wish differently from what is, I don't let myself feel guilty.  Sometimes, that time of "neglect" while I do chores turns into really great play.

It was a nice afternoon, far too hot to be outside.  The water was turned off for awhile since there was a leak out on Main Street someplace.  I felt really glad I had already washed all the laundry before that happened.  And I'm glad that funny water pressure and then none at all didn't signal a leak in our water line like it did two years ago. 

It's easy to get caught up in the idea that things should be "on" all the time, that every day should be an awesome adventure.  It is, but not in the way we often imagine.  Each day may hold just one moment of magic and, really, that's enough.

I guess there's a week like this every year, the garden preparation week.  Sometimes, it's had more fanfare and sometimes, not.  Last year, it probably came later since Roan was just a few days old at this point.  This year makes up for all the years of near neglect, of lowered standards, I suppose.  I've weeded all the flowerbeds around the house and have plans to sprinkle copious amounts of columbine and poppy seeds in the most vulnerable (to weeds) bed.

Mike built an enormous 8x8 raised bed this week, with the children at his side or running in circles as he worked.  It's a replacement for one of our raised beds.  We have three, preferring to do our annual gardening (outside of our perennial and biennial berries) in a raised bed because the soil is very thin here.  The romantic rocks we have sticking up in our yard are signals that what's down below ain't much more than rock.  Makes me think of this song, but I need to focus.

Anyway, things were done right this time.  The ground was properly prepared and three layers of newspaper and weed fabric were put down.  Our neighbor helped us to lift and slide the bed into place last night.  We now have three bales of pro-mix to fluff to fill it, but we're holding off a few days as Mike's oldest sister is coming to see us tomorrow.  Mike will replace the other raised bed at some point.  All the materials came from a local hardware store, known to have very nearly everything.

In other news, I've been using last year's strawberries to make pink lemonade and may have a recipe worked out soon.  Ours uses water kefir, since I am obsessed with all things live and active.  I'm planning some blackberry ice cream for this weekend, using dairy kefir.  I've pretty much given up on store ice cream when I always have a good supply of kefir.  We're going to a strawberry festival for the first time, mainly because it's associated with an alternative school in Roanoke that I want to learn more about.  It claims 30,000 people come and, while Mike says that's not a lot, I'm a little freaked out.  It will be worth it, I think.

Today, cleaning up.  Yard mowing means constant grass in the house.  Diaper and clothes washing.  Supposed to be 86.  I think I might put them on racks on the sidewalk.  Give people something to look at as they drive by.  My solar panels, I call them.

I had intended to write a sentimental post about Roan's final nap in the baby hammock.  I took photos of it almost to an obsessive level, but making committal statements of any kind, well. . . Now, we're just a family with two hammocks. 

Mike got me another big caribiner and I've been putting Roan out on the front porch for his late morning nap.  I've been working on the flower beds this week, years of weeding that's been put off, so I need him to be nearer and unable to get down if he wakes up.  Because Roan can get down from things now, like the couch or Willow's floor bed or the hammock chair.  Willow didn't master this until she was two, so it's handy.  Sort of.

The hammock chair is a hit with Mike and Roan and me.  Willow won't sit in it alone, despite her proclamations that she would read a book about Spring in it.  I can see why babies sleep so well in hammocks.  It feels rather like swimming.  I've had the same floaty sensation that I would get after a day swimming when I was a child.  We've already acknowledged that we are going to wear out the hammock chair and have mentally budgeted for a replacement in the future.  After all, Mike put an eye hook in the central beam to our house, we're committed.

This change, along with the crazy warm weather (it snowed last week, remember?) is making me feel a little funny.  I guess I felt this way last year, too.  I get good at cold/cool weather and then the heat hits and I'm so not ready.  Willow was outside for hours yesterday while I was doing laundry and Mike was working on the raised bed project.  I'm missing our rhythm of shades down at 6:30, Nerd Show at 7:00, bed at 8:30.  I suppose it will all come back with the time changes in the Fall.

A new rhythm.  I need to find my way there and begin to enjoy it.  I'm thinking: morning chores inside, laundry outside (weather permitting), Roan's nap and activity time (outside or in, depending), lunch, outside for laundry, inside for rest, supper.  Warm weather is exhausting, but I must remind myself that not every day requires weeding or mowing.  Thank goodness.  May is just a busy month and then we'll settle into waiting for everything to grow and get ripe.  I'm really looking forward to pesto and warm cucumbers.

Stacy and I were friends back in high school.  We were on an academic bowl sort of team together.  We were supposed to be the English people, but we were more the drama people.  We read each story, play and poem with great fanfare.  I wonder now what our coach thought of us.  But, she was laughing just as hard as we were.



After she graduated, Stacy and I lost contact with each other, but Mike met an old friend of mine who happened to be wearing her baby and we were reunited.  She had been praying for a new friend and so it happened.



This doll for her little girl is a lot like our friendship.  Old things and new went into her creation.  Way back when I first started my etsy shop, I bought the fabric for her dress.  Some of you out there have napkins made from it.  I got the corduroy at a yard sale just down the road.  It's been turned into lots of pants for the children and a skirt for me.  The embroidery thread for her face came with Mike from his days of making hemp bracelets.  She is wearing tiny undies made from a Charlie's Soap bag, but she's too modest to show them off.  Everything else is new.



A new friend for the daughter of an old friend.  I didn't know Stacy too deeply back in high school and these days we don't discuss A Glass Menagerie anymore.  Time changes things, old and new.  Her sweet little head looks slightly to the right or, as I like to think, the future.

For more crafting posts, visit Frontier Dreams!

One of the quandaries I have with the returning warm weather is that there are simply too many obligations outside that get in the way of enjoying the warm weather we waited all Winter for.  Like today.  I think Mike is going to be working on the garden when all I really want to do is load into the car and find a green meadow or woodland setting and walk around.  Maybe we can do both, but I've got to hang out the diapers first.

“I will pay thee as soon as the oak leaves fall; come then, thy money will then be ready counted out.” When the oak leaves had fallen, the Devil came and demanded what was due to him. But the Lord said, “In the church of Constantinople stands a tall oak tree which still has all its leaves.” With raging and curses, the Devil departed, and went to seek the oak, wandered in the wilderness for six months before he found it, and when he returned, all the oaks had in the meantime covered themselves again with green leaves. . .

~"The Lord's Animals and the Devil's" :: Grimm's Fairy Tales

Roan and I ceremoniously stood in the spot where he was born in our living room at 6:26 AM.  Then, it was on to a normal day: laundry, a grumpy Willow, dishes to wash.


Our main celebration, if you can call it that, was at lunch.  I set out Roan's birth announcement, a watercolor postcard with his name and a recent photo of him to show how he's grown.  And his gnome.  Because we like to chuckle about gnomes around here.  His present was in the silk.


We also had a Birthday Apple.  Roan's only shown interest in food in the last little while, but he's still not eating it.  He prefers to mangle it while we eat.  Like strawberries, that boy got worked up about the three gallons of strawberries.  He will gnaw on a slice of apple (spitting out the bits as he goes), so I decided he would have an apple for his birthday.

On the day you were born
the Earth turned, the Moon pulled,
the Sun flared, and, then, with a push
you slipped out of the dark quiet
where suddenly you could hear
a circle of people singing
with voices familiar and clear.

"Welcome to the spinning world. . .
We are so glad you've come!"



A year ago at this moment, Mike and I were still in shock from the birth of our little boy.  We stayed in shock the whole day, really, completely exhausted by a night with no sleep and a trip to the doctor shortly afterward.  Tornadoes came the night after Roan was born, but all I heard as I drifted in and out of sleep was hail hitting the windows.  Mike had tried to stay up to watch the path of the storms, but he fell asleep, too.  When Angie came to see us the next morning, she told us of tractor trailers stuck in trees.  We hardly could believe her.  But there it was on the news.  Mike drove down and saw it with his own eyes.  My inclination to use my breast pump to start labor so Mike could have 12 days off at home with us suddenly took on a deeper meaning.  Whether we'd been traveling to the hospital or the midwives had been on their way to us, even 12 hours difference would have been huge.  In our area, I know that today will be a bit of a sad anniversary for many, but we are blessed to celebrate our sweet boy who arrived just in time, God's time.  I'm not a romantic, but I will say that Roan is as close to heaven on Earth as I have ever been.