THE tree for proud prairie people

Here is the delight of my day, yesterday and today. We crossed a frozen creek and a rocky pass, then climbed a prairie ridge to get to this beauty. The quest to get her was exhilarating. The aroma infusing our house is, to my nostrils, heavenly. The cause we contributed to when we paid for the privilege of hiking and chopping, righteous. Oh, I'm a zealot about so many things...including this kind of tree. The humble cedar/juniper is the tree for me. Always has been. Locally grown, fragrant, zero environmental impact to harvest...probably there's an environmental benefit to harvest, because (thanks to the birds) there are too many of them interfering with the prairie landscape.

O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree!
Thou tree most fair and lovely!
O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree,
Thou tree most fair and lovely!

The sight of thee at Christmastide
spreads hope and gladness far and wide.
O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree!
Thou tree most fair and lovely!

130-in-one!

Oh, the delight of watching little hands work on this fun project when I came home from work yesterday. Henry taught me the ropes with ease and confidence and we completed the circuits for this chirping bird. Then I made sugar cookie dough and yogurt and we listened to more of Analise's Advent Journey.

Today's the day to get down the Christmas decorations, get the house ready for our tree and bake cookies! We are being remembered by so many dear friends with cookies and kind gestures and words that I really long to return the favor.

Peace of the Advent season to you!

desk work and daddy love

A little desk work for a sunny day.

Boy loooooves Daddy.

this is thirty-eight

I'm thirty-eight tomorrow evening. There's a baby growing in me, doing a lot of kicking, but you can't see the belly very clearly. (We always have trouble with this camera at night. Daytime shots are simply the best. So maybe Joel will take another picture that I can post tomorrow). I enjoy my birthdays and try to make sure each one includes a solitary walk, if possible. Two years ago I walked twelve miles for my thirty-sixth birthday. What a walk and day that was. I was quitting the chaplaincy position (that I later resumed at 40% time) that I had held for 6+ years, and wanted to commemorate this transition by walking the route I had driven so many times before. I felt liberated on my journey. And dehydrated. I didn't take any water with me, and that was a mistake. But it was a joyful journey and that's what I feel on my birthday. I can say with Gerard Manley Hopkins, "...for all this, there lives the dearest freshness deep down things." Birthdays, delights and struggles all come and go. But, above all, there is still life. I am so thankful to have this life to live. And I feel blessed to be carrying another child. An amazing gift on my thirty-eighth birthday eve.

meanwhile...

While Aunt Libby and I sewed Advent calendars on Saturday, Henry and cousins painted their faces. He wanted me to photograph these faces for future reference-- in case he needs to remember how he made white circles around his eyes, a lightning bolt on the forehead, and white fangs below the mouth. I love the toughness and tenderness of my boy. We have been listening to an unfolding Advent story, The Advent Journey of Analise, and enjoying it.

Thank you, John Keats

A thing of beauty is a joy forever.


Its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness;


but still will keep a bower quiet for us


and a sleep, full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.


Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing a flowery band
to bind us to the earth.

...yes, in spite of all, some shape of beauty
moves away the pall from our dark spirits...

sights to see

I've been missing my garden zinnias and all the color they brought to the table. Here are some berries scavenged from a burning bush. Up close they remind me so much of bittersweet, which I'll have to plant some day. On the way home from our walk I found dozens of juniper berries pooled in the cracks of the sidewalk. I took some inside to fill an acorn cup and the hole in a rock Henry found.

One of my home's places of refuge...under the spider plant that was out on the porch all summer.On Saturday Henry and I went to the bookshop to enjoy their Second Saturday for Kids. He could have spent the entire morning working the cold, smooth clay that Hanna set out on the concrete floor. He made a couple pinch pots, a dam (on the left) and some other things. Joel's parents gave us the Christmas cactus when Henry was born and we have enjoyed watching it flower most years...sometimes more than once. This year Henry's paid special attention to the blossoms opening.

notes from the middle of November

Hello blogland friends,

I'm excited to share my new header. Henry designed this cinderella pumpkin to have fangs on top, but they've curled under now, leaving a friendly, gaping maw to greet me when I walk up the front steps. The quotation from Hafiz is from my bathroom calendar, and I just find it appropriate in so many ways.

I'm not all that fond of November, but it does hold things to recommend it to us: the maturation of autumn, the constant awareness in this month of remembrance that we are not alone. Other souls have walked this ground before us. I'm very mindful of that at the beginning of November with All Saints/All Souls days. We don't observe these days in any big way as a family. Personally, though, I can't help but feel the ache of those I know who are filled with questions about where they are going and where they have been--the ache of those who have more friends on the other side of this life than on the side we're on.

I had the most comforting conversation about disillusionment yesterday. It was one of my work days, and I was sitting at a round table with some elders I love and admire. What honest observations they made about their lives. Why is it, we wondered together, that you get to the next "chapter" and you still don't have it all figured out? Seems to have little to do with being a "person of faith." Somehow life's losses tend to lead us deeper and deeper into mystery and the wildness of our being.

It was good for me to be reminded that I have probably said a lot of things intended to be comforting that have been received as nothing more than well-meaning platitudes. What was so heartening about the conversation is that I can stow these thoughts away. If I'm granted the long life I hope to have, I want to remember with gratitude the friends who said, "It's not easy getting old. I'm just as confused now as I ever was." I want to remember them and how beautiful it was to see them wondering and loving, learning and struggling. Let me be like that. That's the kind of faith I want.

On a different note, I have felt buoyed along by the election of Barack Hussein Obama to the office of President of the United States. Joel and I stayed up late watching the returns and I went to sleep filled with the hope that we're entering into a new era that might hold transformation for our nation. I pray for this new president-elect in a way that I've never prayed for leaders before. That he may be wise and grounded and visionary and conciliatory. Already I've been shocked as I've heard him talking about killing Osama bin Laden. I am aware that I can't expect all things of a finite human being and that the heart of transformation is really my own response to life. Yet I feel hopeful and thankful and I'm not taking either of these things for granted.

I'm a big Michael Pollan fan and hope you'll have time to listen to this interview on his Open Letter to the Next Farmer in Chief. I hope our president-elect has made time to listen.

Days and nights have been pretty sweet in our home of late. Henry is bonding with my pregnant belly, which I hope to share photos of sometime. We're reading Riki Tiki Tavi thanks to a visit to the cousins' house, Little House in the Big Woods, and The Two Towers. The Tolkien books continue to be our family bedtime reading routine and I delight in hearing Henry sigh as he falls into bed, snuggles up and settles down to hear more of this fabulous tale. It pleases Joel to be the reader.

Oh, each day holds its own frustrations and nagging questions, but I'm so very thankful for my little family and our little home and all the family and friends who love us. November, I am thankful for you and want to savor your remaining days.

Remembering you by candle light, Katie.

an emerging perspective on education

Our word educate comes from the Greek word "to give," if memory is serving me correctly. In education we are introduced to vantage points from which to view the world. I hope for Henry's life windows to be broad enough to capture many, many different views.Play is the primary work of childhood. Responsibility is important, but identity (and initiative) emerge from play. I am so grateful for memories of my mother saying something to the effect of, "I will do this work right now. Your job is to play." My friend Jen's family of origin said it well on the walls of the home where they once lived: "The days that make us happy make us wise."

Whether or not he values these things now, I hope for Henry's life to be full of the real deal: real flowers, homemade food, things made and repaired by human hands belonging to people he loves.

_______

Learning happens all the time. I want to give our days together enough structure to hold us in, but enough freedom to allow all three (and then four) of us to do what we need and want to do.

I try the intentional "lesson" on occasion, but we seem to be rearing a boy who prefers learning through his own initiative. Perhaps he would thrive in a classroom setting where the learning goals are set out for him. Perhaps he would not. What I know is that I love, love, love it when he spells out words for me and asks me what they are. Yesterday's finds from an Arby's animal identification kit: s-w-i-f-t-f-o-x, m-o-u-n-t-a-i-n-g-o-a-t and skunk ("...but I already knew that one," he told me). I love learning things together, like the fact that most birds in the world are "passerine" (I think), but the hornbill (which we will be studying at the homeschool co-op this week) is non-passerine, meaning it doesn't sing a song and its young are (probably ...maybe?) precocial (don't need feeding from parents) as opposed to altricial, which means needing feeding...

I want to acquire some Waldorf main lesson books for drawing, but right now we are content doing daily journal entries in the little green diary with a lock on it that he requested when we went to buy school supplies.

I am beginning to feel a little more happily placed as a "home-schooling mom" even though that label still makes me bristle a bit if I stop to consider the assumptions about me it may cause others to form.

Glory be!

I sewed an apron

Despite the fact that the photos are fuzzy and that I think the first picture makes me look like I have no teeth, I want to share with you the apron I made. The thrift-shop fabric had been in the middle of a pile in my bedroom until I cleaned out Joel's closet and made room for my sewing things. I had dreams of making an apron of this cloth, but it had been so long since I had sewn anything that I doubted this idea would ever come to fruition. It did, though. A pattern of my own devising. I even made a buttonhole, with Joel's help. I was amazed that I could make crude gathers under the bib. Despite thinking I never paid attention, I remember a thing or two from my mother's years of sewing for us!
The shell button is from my maternal grandma's collection. The tie in the back is the same red gauzy fabric that I used for the neck strap. I loved making this apron. It was so satisfying to come up with a plan for it and carry that plan out. Can't wait to sew some more things for the sheer fun of it. The added benefit of the apron is that I have needed it. Since I'm borrowing so many maternity clothes (mostly from my dear sister-in-law), I want to take good care of them and that means none of my customary kitchen grease spots. Thank you to my mother and sister for sharing a wonderful new button-hole-ready Singer with me. What a gift!

fall harvest

What a beautiful day was Tuesday. After spending weeks looking out the window to see our deflated pool lying on the ground, Joel and I used this sunny autumn day to clean and cut up pieces of our defective pool and turn them into fodder for a water slide next summer. While Joel was fixing our mop with screws, I did a little weeding and harvesting. Above are the zinnias and cosmos I picked.And here is my very first brandywine of the season--harvested on October 7! Also, chard, yellow peppers on their way to turning and, underneath it all, jalapenos.
Henry played outside on the swing and in the dirt and sand. A joyful, joyful morning that helped me breathe deeply and believe we'll eventually be able to make room and a way for the baby that is coming.

resting in loving arms

Beverly and Daddy, in the kitchen a long time ago.
Hope you'll forgive me for not asking permission, Dad.

I don't know how kosher it is to tell other people that you read the book they loaned you while sitting in the bathroom, but here's a quotation from a lovely book that came to live with me for a while after a leisurely conversation with my neighbors in their living room. Because it's so good I decided to buy it on Amazon for a penny. Thank you, neighbors. I had clean hands while reading! (Sorry my purchase is not bringing in any more money for you, Wendy Wright. You deserve it).

It is hard for any of us truly to accept our own vulnerability and insufficiency--both for each other and for God. Parents, it seems to me, are especially prone to harbor illusions of self-sufficiency. We who care for the young, who are called to be providers, shelterers, healers, teachers and question-answerers for our children easily forget our own neediness. We forget that we too are children whose hearts must be open, trusting and in need of God's deep embrace where all joy, all suffering is felt and borne. We must discover our true childhood so that we can return home, seeking those arms.

It is an art--a profoundly spiritual art--to learn to 'lean into' or live consciously one's own need for God and others. Part of that art involves discernment of the seeming 'needfulness' that is rooted not in love of God but in self-deprecation. Deep within the divine embrace the self is always recognized as infinitely precious, worthy of dignity and respect. One discovers one's essential goodness and the graced quality of one's life. When lack of self-worth, experiencing oneself as rightfully a victim or the absence of healthy self-love are detected, it is time to come closer into the aura of love that God projects. It is time to lean against God's heart to feel the gentle reminders that each of us is a gift, each created for the fullness of human dignity. In that embrace one discovers true needfulness and vulnerability, the heart of the beloved child that rests in loving arms and finds there its peaceful home.

I don't know exactly why, but this struck me just the right way as I read it. It has been a day of resting in loving arms. A peaceful contrast to the conflict-driven week I just finished.

now I know why they call it red lobster

Blogging gives me joy because it provides a place to squirrel away the little sights that make me happy. Yesterday Grandma and Grandpa Ewy took us to Red Lobster for lunch and, on the way there, Henry announced he would be having lobster for lunch. My first response was to want to say, "No, dear, that's too expensive." Thinking of this unschooling mentor I instead chose to say, "Let's talk more about that." At the restaurant Henry spent time around the lobster tank with other kids and Joel and I decided it would be okay for him to try the lobster. Thank you Grandma and Grandpa E for treating him to it!

Henry got to choose the lobster out of the tank and crack its beautiful red shell open with the cracker. He liked the claw meat best, but I don't think he will be wanting it again. Still, what an adventure.

Since lobster shells don't enter this prairie household just every day I thought I'd include a few pictures to show how half the red lobster's body is fitting into our home. Here's an odd still life with brandywine tomato, homegrown sunflower seeds awaiting roasting, an acorn and some Kansas pecans in need of shelling. What an unlikely combination! And yet I think they suit each other well.

shine on, harvest moon

I don't know how/if I can take better night-time photos with my little $40.00 toy, but here is the ripe harvest moon descending in our back yard. I'm thankful for the clear view of it.

Last night we went to a harvest moon celebration in Wichita and ate two flavorful stews, fresh bread, pumpkin bread and apple betty. The best parts for me were watching the children practice poems from A Journey through Time in Verse and Rhyme (that they never actually performed because they were too busy playing) and seeing Henry carry out the part of the wind in the little play they did do on the deck. He blew the leaves off the tree with style.

pregnant morning

I awoke early, a little before six, to a hungry stomach. The morning light was gray and all was quiet--five-year-old sleeping with stuffed animal friends, husband deep in sleep. I filled my bowl with (mostly) locally grown and prepared food--chopped apple, yogurt, granola and ate in gratitude. What a pleasure to tend my body's needs as influenced by the growing baby inside me.

I am thankful that today we can pay our health insurance premium, just as we knew we must do but didn't know exactly how we would do. I am thankful for the myriad things that have been shared with our family of late: cider, apples, applesauce, yogurt, a work of art, time, new insights, maternity clothes, listening space.

I am thankful for Joel--not only his wonderful being, but his practical skills, his knowledge gained through years of experience, his ability to sit with problems, think them through and then repair what needs repairing. These gifts are vital to our family, literally turning work to bread (and health insurance).

I am thankful for four grandparents for Henry, dear computer customers, meaningful work at home and in my place of ministry, September weather in the northern hemisphere and the mystery of God at work in the Universe. Also thankful to have read this interview this morning and for my dad, whose thoughts on basketball can be read here.

for Spinning Lizzie / Red Dirt Mother

"Catch a random thought...
between thumb and finger...
and then in faith and hope,
tie
one end down
firmly...
follow its lead
trusting
splicing in
following with fingertips
through all its vicissitudes
consequences down the hallways of its joys
and its terrors
snap
return
to the interruption
the snarl
know it and name it
feel its feelings
follow them
to where fear throws up a wall
builds blockage
distraction
from the flow
to lead you away
and yet,
stay with it
remain
with the point of interruption
weep it out
until you experience
a breakthrough.
There, pick up the thread again
and be led
from flax to thread
to the holy face
to Mystery."

Gertrud Mueller Nelson
Here All Dwell Free, p. 240

cabin views

Here is a sunset from last week, Labor Day, at the new family cabin in the red dirt hills...taken from the balcony.
And here's a front view. It was a dusty, windy day.
And here I am, marveling that this place is for me, too. These are the prairie hills my mother-in-law grew up with, riding her horse through the pastures with her dad.

blue summer joy

What other words can describe this inspired summer pleasure, shared between neighbors? Blue joy. Thank you, water. Thank you, neighbors. I want to jump in right now.Swimming pool, it's hard to say good-bye for a while, but I'm not giving you the care you deserve. Rest well over the winter. We'll patch your holes...or something and look forward to another summer of blue joy in 2009. Thank you again!

icu nurok

I can't get this silly They Might Be Giants song out of my head. We have been listening to it a lot lately, partly because Henry is enjoying the album more now that he is beginning to do a little (more) reading and sounding out. What a curious thing it is (to a five-year-old and a 37-yr-old) that letters can mean or at least sound like words. Here are the lyrics to the song I'm thinking of along with a translation link.

urnx
urnx, ni, imnx
ictv
ictv, nicu
icu, icu, nurok
urnx
urnx, ni, iw
icatv, icadvd, nicu
icu, icu, nurok
icu, icu, nurok

remembering Goldie, ? to 8-?-08

Last night as Henry was falling asleep I was keenly aware of no sound coming from our hamster Goldie's cage. I had been concerned about her all day, but thought I would listen last night for her noises and then decide what to do in the morning. This afternoon I remembered my concern. Earlier in the week I had fed her nice, organic romaine and Joel and I both noticed that she looked shaky when she woke up the following evening, but we didn't say anything to Henry.

I checked on her this afternoon, since I couldn't see a trace of her this morning, and discovered her body, little hamster soul already with her maker. Goldie, we loved you and we will miss you. Rest in peace.

searching and learning

Well, here we are. We're beginning a homeschooling journey. Maybe for half a year, maybe for a year, maybe a little longer than that. Wow. We have had some wonderful times so far, my five-and-a-half-year-old and I. Here he is on Monday, searching for God in all the cracks of our wooden floor. The conversation went something like this.

Mama, when do we see where God lives? Do you have to die to get there or can we go there now?

Um, well...God doesn't only live "out there somewhere," God also lives in you and in me and, well, God can be found everywhere. God is with us right here and now. [That must have been way too unclear a remark; not quite the description of panentheism I was going for].

Well, Mama, I'm going to find God because I need him to help me find my Star Wars Lego people.

Back to the homeschooling topic, I'm feeling lonely and excited. I'm most attracted to an unschooling approach, plus, I just feel too poor to try Waldorf or some of the interesting-looking reading-based curricula out there. But trusting that we will find our way through this with joy, and that the three of us will know when/how we need to make changes, and that I really do have the right to be Henry's primary teacher when his dearest friends here in town all have a blast at public school...but his Wichita friends have a blast homeschooling. I want to offer him something precious, but I don't want to withhold what he needs. I plan to write more (for myself) about our take on homeschooling so that I have a mission statement of sorts to look back on.

Thanks for listening, friends!

The New Yorker: My Long-time Love

I needed some diversion yesterday morning, so I sat and read "Mink Inc." by Lauren Collins from the October 23, 2006 issue of The New Yorker. I have been reading this magazine on and off since I was sixteen. It's literary, informative, entertaining and, gosh, a person can learn a lot about a whole lot of things just by sitting down to read an issue or two. Here's two paragraphs from Lauren Collins' article. It made me cackle out loud with glee. And I do sincerely apologize if I've offended anyone who's opposed to fur coats for ethical reasons or if this comes across as fat-phobic. I offer it strictly in the spirit of fun.

A few years ago, Ervin Rosenfeld was asked to make a mink jacket for the Bronx rapper Fat Joe. This would not be just any mink jacket; it had to be the pale blue of a Tiffany box, light as champagne fizz, and flattering to a man who was said to weigh three hundred and seventy pounds. Equipped with Fat Joe's favorite North Face parka as a template, Rosenfeld set to work on the garment, for a video called "We Thuggin'." He tracked down a skin, a white ranched female mink, and had it dyed the requested hue; after stitching the pieces together, he cut up pillows and stuffed the material between the fur and the lining, to get a quilted effect. The resulting creation, a sixe XXXXXL bomber jacket, was ready for delivery in three days. But there was a problem. Fat Joe was indeed so fat that Rosenfeld didn't have enough blue mink left to fulfill the other half of the commission. Never mind that the video was set on Memorial Day, in Miami; the R. & B. singer R. Kelly was meant to appear alongside Fat Joe in an identical coat.

Rosenfeld decided to go for what passes in his oeuvre for minimalism. He snipped the sleeves off the pattern, leaving the armholes huge and gaping, and attached a pouch of mink at the back of the collar. Voila. He had invented the sleeveless fur hoodie. It's a look still spoken of reverentially in certain quarters. ...

The article goes on to tell Ervin Rosenfeld's story and how and why he is favored by artists in the hip-hop scene. I feel like a better person for having read it, and I imagine I'll still be chuckling next week as I think about those guys in their Tiffany box-blue furs, posing by a pool on Memorial Day.

Happy Sunday!

happenings

While it's a joy to return to blogging after a three-week (or so) hiatus, I have to say the rest has been wonderful. I wasn't aware of how much time I was putting into taking photos, downloading them, writing down thoughts. This discipline is well worth my time, but I come back to it with a new appreciation for the many other ways I want to (and need to) ply my strength.

The biggest thing I've been up to is growing a baby to fill these well-loved shoes. It has been an amazing gift to hear this baby's heart beat (with doppler assistance) and to feed my body's cravings. How anxious I have felt: are you alive in there? Have I done something to hurt you? After two miscarriages, I don't think I'll ever be able to be casual about pregnancy again. The blessing of this time of uncertainty (not that there is ever any final certainty, even now that my first trimester is over) is that I have had the privilege of hearing other women's stories of pregnancy loss and infertility. Oh, the dear women in my life! I can't thank you all enough. My sisters, my sister-friends...you are an amazing source of strength to me!

Let me spout on just a bit about pregnancy cravings, because I think they are so very, very entertaining. Here is what I have wanted to eat, in more-or-less chronological order, beginning around July 4.

lovely golden-yolked free range eggs from Cheryl
shrimp (which I believe isn't a very ethical--or maybe healthy--thing to eat)
shrimp
shrimp with sour cream cucumber salad on baked potato
fantasies about a carbonated sour cream-shrimp-cucumber milkshake...ugh...yum!
milk and chocolate chip cookies
beef stew
tomato juice/V8
nachos: beans, cheddar, guacamole, sour cream, tomato, chips
biscuits and gravy
biscuits and gravy--yuck! I normally don't like this, but have loved making them both from scratch this last month
red lentil coconut curry
beet borscht and reubens with lots of kraut (so thankful for Yolanda's menu)
kalamata olives
gazpacho
wraps and sandwiches made by someone other than myself that may include heated meat but do not include ham (usually a favorite of mine)
...mmm. I think I'll find something to eat soon.

Here is a photo of a beautiful meal that I really did not feel like eating due to funky nauseated pregnancy feelings. Our wonderful guests brought over the whole meal, which we ate out on the porch. Too bad I mostly felt like eating the boring beef stew in the crock pot.And here's a photo of my sister Barbara's new set of wheels. Couldn't resist including this one! Her electric bike is an eGo. It recharges for about 8 cents worth of electricity after which it can go 60? miles. Wow! And then there's the consolation of this array of healthy local food, grown and purchased from within 100 miles of home. Wow again!Take care everybody!

northern light

I wanted to remember how unusual it is to see sunlight coming through a north window in the morning. A summer gift. This photo was taken, probably, the last week of June.

resting

Blogger is not letting me post photos and my life is not letting me spend time on blogging right now. That's okay. I need the rest. Blessings upon all who read this. Blessings on your lives and your lovely blogs, too! I'll be back when I'm good and rested.

the love of beautiful things made by hands

Our rope old hammock, purchased eight years ago for $20 at a silent auction, fell apart last month after having been romped on six too many times. We left it outside more than we should have, but it was well-loved and much-used. No major regrets. Only thing is, Henry missed it. I missed it. How nice it was to swing him and a friend high, high in the air while humming circus music.

I've been trolling around for a new one since then, but almost any amount was too much considering our other obligations. I did notice this green and blue beauty in the window of the local Ten Thousand Villages though and, thanks to a delightful and unexpected gift, we now have a new hammock. I tried it out this evening and it is just perfect.

Joel has been reading Henry The Hobbit at bedtime, and I was reminded of how much I identify with Bilbo as I heard Joel read this:

As they [the dwarves] sang the hobbit felt the love of beautiful things made by hands and by cunning and by magic moving through him, a fierce and jealous love, the desire of the hearts of dwarves. Then something Tookish [Bilbo's grandfather was an adventurous hobbit with the last name of Took] woke up inside him, and he wished to go and see the great mountains, and hear the pine-trees and the waterfalls, and explore the caves and wear a sword instead of a walking-stick. He looked out of the window. The stars were out in a dark sky above the trees. He thought of the jewels of the dwarves shining in dark caverns.

A hammock is a wonderful place to dream when one is feeling Tookish!

the wool that came in the mail

Our first attempt at felting. It was so exciting to open the package and take out this beautiful wool washed and dyed by Lizz's family. It smelled wonderful, too. Is the water too soapy? I wonder if I had it hot enough. I need to do some more reading.
And here are the beginners balls. One of these is to be a cat toy for Bella. After we tried this Aunt Libby introduced us to needle felting. That's pretty nifty too.

willing to get the moon if possible

I have fond memories of watching this video with Henry when he was younger. He loved it and we would act it out together. We found the book at our dear thrift store this week and read it tonight for a bedtime story.

I have been thinking about what I will and will not do as a parent. So much of it is fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants. We don't have extensively-thought-through approaches to many things other than wanting to be loving and non-violent. And what does that mean? So many terms come to mind: unconditional parenting (a book I haven't read yet), attachment parenting, parenting with love and logic, conscious discipline, without spanking or spoiling. God help me. How I define love and "non-violent" changes from moment to moment through the day.

Today we bought Henry a Webkin. He has been asking for one for a long time now, mostly very patiently. There is something in me that just wanted to, needed to (almost) respond to that want by saying "Yes!" But how to balance this desire for him to feel included among his peers with the desire, I mean need, to be fiscally responsible and to teach values of patience, perseverance, nonconformity, love of natural beauty...

I know I'm not alone in the struggle and that is a great consolation. I also know that I feel like I should want more consistency in myself as a mama. And I know that, at the end of the day, I'll probably be the one trying to rig a ladder up to the moon, maybe not getting there as elegantly as papa, but believing that the moon is for my boy as well as Monica and all the world's children. I feel like I will always remember this line from Thomas Traherne, quoted in The Quiet Eye, an all-time favorite little book

The moon and stars are mine if those I prize.

flowers are growing

Yolanda helped me put mulch around the flowers I had planted in the front of our house. I transplanted some bee balm from their house to ours and now it's blooming. Bee balm has the most amazing scent. It buds as a muted red and pops open a blazing pink.

summer skies and celebrations

Two sky views...
A cabin view
and solstice evening sky, about 9:15 central daylight savings time, if my memory serves me correctly.

The days and evenings have been lovely. Today, a little humid, but so much green to enjoy. The garden grows, a swimming pool is filled and being shared, two neighbor boys have celebrated the summer solstice with vinegar and soda volcanoes, countless trips in and out of the big blue pool for breaks and snacks of chicken sandwiches, grapes, melon, crackers, popsicles and more.

I am thankful.

new mandala

Here is a mandala / prayer I made last fall that I colored today while I listened to David the Gnome (thanks Leeala) with Henry. I can't explain why, but mandalas are just so important to me. Meaning, attempts at meaning, chaos...all safely enclosed in a circle. I usually end up creating/coloring mandalas when change is underway. I wonder what kind of change is coming? I've mentioned it before, but Susanne F. Fincher's books are especially meaningful to me.