blizzard

 

This was the view through our "bird bench" window last Wednesday.  Below is Saturday morning, same window.  That was about half way through our 30 inches of snow.  

 

 

 

                         shoveling out the chickens...

    cardinal at the feeders...

 

 trudging through waist deep drifts on the deck...

 

 It was a pretty great weekend.  I was supposed to be X-country skiing in Western Maine with some friends for the weekend.  And while we are totally psyched to get away for some great exercise in the beautiful mountains, without children, we were also really pleased to not have to do it in  below zero weather, with 40 mph winds and  2-3 feet of snow on the trail.  Fortunately they have an extreme weather clause in their reservations--so we'll get our chance again in a couple of weeks.  And hopefully it will be 30 degrees and sunny, with light powder (just saying).  

Instead of driving two hours through blizzard conditions, we stayed home.  Rob had taken a half day on Friday so we were all together for nearly three days, with no obligations save lots of shoveling.  I had stocked up on easy, quick food for Rob to feed the kids while I was away, as well as plenty of good chocolate (meant for the skiing ladies) which made for a very laid back weekend.  I was nursing a bit of a head cold, so without meal prep to do, and with Rob close at hand I spent the weekend drinking tea, knitting  (lots to share soon!) and reading beside the wood stove.  Hard to beat that.

When the sun came out on Sunday we made this sweet ice wreath (inspired by this one) to decorate the porch.  The little guys were part of an old broken candle holder.
February has always been a hard month for me, but with plenty of fresh snow, a ski vacation in sight, and a few tricks up my sleeve I think we'll sail through just fine.
Nothing like New England weather with a dose of global warming to keep things interesting.

One day last week

Last Wednesday in Maine it poured.  It was 50 degrees warmer than it had been two days before, and the snow disappeared overnight.  Thursday morning we awoke to 50 mph wind gusts that felt magical.  The energy in the air was contagious and we stood on the front porch at 7 am in our pajamas watching the clouds whip across the sky, and the trees bending from their hips.  I moved the car way from one suspicious looking subject (still standing, though not for long).   Five minutes later the power went out.  

 

 

 

I love how quiet everything is when the power is out.  All of the white noise from the overhead fan on the stairs, the refrigerator, the lights--its all gone.  The only sound, other than the children, was the wind.  We made a few trips to the stream for buckets of water for toilet flushing.  We let the chickens out.  We very nearly got hit by this huge branch falling in our yard.  After that we decided no one was allowed off the porch until the wind quieted.   We lost several branches, a few small trees, and one big white cedar that we are sad to see gone, split in half about 20 ft. up.
Some of us were thrilled to wear vests in place of snowsuits and running shorts with red boots.  Why not?

 

 

We checked out the muddy sand box, and got out the kids' bikes to tour the neighborhood for damage.
We had leftovers for lunch and ice cream that was threatening to melt in our freezer.    

  

It was a strange day for January.  There is something magical and wild in a wind like that, and in a day so drastically different from the season.   It was a welcome change to the single digits from just days before, but also a quiet reminder of the shifts in the weather we've been noticing over the past few years.  Its both beautiful and concerning.
It is cold again this week, but the bare ground and blue sky seem distinctly summer-like if you look past the leafless trees.  I'm feeling a little unsettled by it all.  The hope I feel when I watch my children as they grow, and the sense of defeat I feel when I think of the world we're leaving for their children is hard to reconcile.  
Its fine to recycle and drive less, but in the face of tornadoes in New Englad and shorts in January it can be discouraging.
In the meantime I'll do my best to "be the change I want to see in the world", and enjoy these summer like days as gifts--and move the car as often as necessary to avoid the falling trees.  

Celebrate

These two weeks mid summer are a crazy haze of celebrating:  Juniper one week then Wylie the next, Mimi's birthday two days later, followed by our anniversary.  This year Juniper's celebration was a sweet, quiet Saturday event with sugar cereal for breakfast--a special treat, a trip to city park pool (her choice), and a small gathering of friends and cousins.  Wylie's bash will be just that--a crowd of all the friends he's known since birth, and their parents and siblings (most of whom are Juni's best friends so she gets a double party).  Its really just a handful of families, but all those people add up fast.  Followed by a sleepover with just the oldest boys and hours of borrowed Wii and movies.  


I am not a person that gets bent out of shape about parties.  Nor do I over plan, with matching napkins, favors, party games etc.   I like to keep things simple.  The kids write an invitation, we plan a small party favor, make a cake, or root beer floats (Juni's favorite) and call it good.  Its typically a potluck affair with some grilling.  This year I got fancy and poked some straws through the lids of Ball Jars and attached each child's name with a rubber band (no pictures but you get the idea).  They looked very sweet all lined up together, and saved on dishes without the need for wasteful juice boxes.


However, even with very little prep and planning it is easy to get caught up in the festivities and overlook the real reason for celebration.  My sweet girl is 7 now.  She is nearly as tall and as heavy as her brother.  She is all muscle and grins.  She is all heart and sass.  She is a climber, a hanger, a leader, a nurturer, and my most reliable helper.  Next week Wylie will be 9.  I call him "knees" these days.  The roundest part of his body are his eyeballs.  He is wiry and wily--aptly named.  He is learning the art of appropriate sarcasm and can sometimes be quite witty.  He is proud of his reading and is learning to swim. He has become a good pal to Kale.  So many new things from last summer.  


All that sugar (root beer floats, lime aid, fruit salad, and lollipops--geesh), children racing and chasing, balloon bopping, shrieking, and movie watching is a fun aside. But in the calm after the storm its nice to sit and enjoy what the day really means.  My children are growing into themselves.

When they were toddlers their birthdays felt, selfishly like my days.  A day when I really reflected on each of their births, told them their birth story and celebrated their joining our family.  Now that they are older we still do that, but it feels somehow different.  The momentous event of birth itself is so much about the mother.  But, no matter how long the labor, birth is a very brief event in a child's life and from then on they become who they will, who they are.  I feel grateful to be able to celebrate with my children on a day is fully theirs, to appreciate who they are and who they are quickly becoming.  Happy Birthdays kiddos.  

Two

Two is so full of everything:  joy, frustration, independence, longing, acceptance, and pride.
The other night at bedtime I noticed a small splinter in Kale's foot and tried for a few minutes to get it out.  Since he wasn't bothered by it I told him that we'd try again in the morning.  But, having drawn attention to it he could no longer settle.  He kept feeling the bottom of his foot to see if it was there, and finally sat up and said, "my just need to try this boo boo again".  He pulled at it a little bit, scrunched up his face, tugged awhile at the jagged skin,  then looked up and smiled, "yay, my got it out!".
He then snuggled into his bed once more, smooshing his face into his pillow.  He was still and quiet for a minute or so and I thought maybe he'd fallen asleep.  But then he looked up at me with those huge blue eyes beaming and said, "My didn't need you help."  I nearly melted at the pride in his voice.  He was so proud to not need me.   I've been seeing it all over of course, the way his body hangs off of mine, legs dangling, when I hold him;  the heft of his body, stocky in the way of two-year-olds; in the way he struts about so sure of who he is.  But my god, in that moment he was just so glad for his independence. And of course I was both glad and heartbroken in that way that mothers are when we realize our babies are no longer babies.

He is so proud of all he can do.  And (mostly) so are we.

Homeschool Thursday: What we teach our kids

Throughout the day Kale will often pat his chest and declare "Mama"-- as in I am pretending to be the mama-- and will then go about his business rocking or nursing his baby.  This is of course very sweet.
But, the other day he came up to me, and patting his chest said, "mama" then yelled "bye-bye" and went for a jog around the house.  I love this!

It was such a real reminder to me of the truth that our kids learn from what we do not what we say.
Its not just when my own nasty words come back at me, or when manners start to slip, though those times are poignant.  But in these little times, when our kids are acting out what it means to be a mother or father it becomes so obvious:  its what we do with our time, and our passion that counts most of all.

My friends and I have had repeated conversations about this, and keep coming back to the same thing:  As babies our children need us to be everything for them.  But as they grow there is a space created, space for ourselves as women not just as mothers*.  But its difficult to know how to best fill this new space.  Particularly as homeschooling parents its hard to strike a balance.  We can't possibly continue to put all our energy/time into our children (we'd be in their faces all the time).  Then what else?  How do we let them know they are valued, but also work on ourselves enough to feel fulfilled?

Most of the time I am all too aware that my kids see me as a waitress/house keeper/cook.  So it thrilled me to glimpse that they see me as an athlete as well.  It was like a little reminder that yes, I am doing something right.  I hope they also see me as an artist, reader, gardener, scientist, and just a really cool person.  Is that asking too much?

Sometime with this new space in our lives I find myself spending too much time and energy analyzing who my kids are and what they need.  I'm trying to remember that the best way to teach them is by example.  Its not so important that I figure out who they are (that's their job) but that I figure out who I want to be.

I'm still working on that one.  But I'm hoping that by teaching myself, I am teaching them the best way I can.

* I realize this may be an issue for some fathers too--but it seems to be particularly true for stay at home mom's dealing with the cultural dilemma of choosing children over a career.

Cycles

I love the seasons in Maine for their renewing effect, and the opportunity to see such growth.  Not just in plants each spring and summer, but in ourselves (and these children!) as well.  The cyclical nature of the seasons allows for such contemplation of how we've grown and changed from year to year, as well as being a source of hope for what we know must come again, and another chance to do it even better.  I've never lived outside of New England so I can't say first hand, but I have a feeling that life without seasons could feel stagnant.

Now too I'm beginning to notice cycles in my children's development and likewise find hope and relief in these patterns.  It's taken me nearly 8 years to realize the natural cycle of my first born-- the difficult half year point slowly, painfully, escalating and finally tapering as spring arrives into a lovely, cooperative whole year child for the summer and fall.  What a relief to see that no, I wasn't doing it all wrong, here we are rolling along smoothly again.

His sister is thankfully a few months off of his cycle, testing her limits and sass as she approaches her birthday each summer, quietly weathering the storm of her brother's moods throughout the colder months.

And Kale too, once upon a time my best sleeper, has thankfully, after months of short unpredictable naps and wakeful nights, cycled back to long, sound naps and (cue cheers) almost uninterrupted nights.

No doubt, now that I think I've got it all figured out something will shift.
But just as summer has finally arrived in a fit of 90 degree days and afternoon thunderstorms, so too will those periods of difficulty melt into a sunnier disposition, and after a time these carefree days will turn their corner toward more trying ones.

Over and over again, for better or worse, this too shall pass--until next time.

Waste Not

If you read Wylie's News (my son's newspaper) you already know about the Johnson family and their Zero Waste Home policy.  I've been reading their blog and am inspired to make some changes around here as well.  Nothing as drastic as zero waste, but certainly less waste seems do-able.

I typically do shop in bulk for a lot of our grains, chocolate chips, oils, and maple syrup. Our local Coop is great for this.  But I hardly ever  bring my own containers (out of shear laziness and disorganization).  So, I'm making an effort to bring my own (re-used) plastic bags and canning jars to refill each week, as well as sewing a few cloth bags for grains.  My mom recently gave me a cloth grocery bag with slots intended for wine bottles; this works great to transport jars for refilling, and keeps them from clanking around and breaking.  I read that mesh laundry bags are great for veggies, so I may pick up a few of those next time I see them.

Another change I'm making is to buy fewer "snacks".  I always try to feed my kids what I consider, real, whole foods. Sometimes this includes all natural or organic crackers and granola bars.  These are not only expensive, but are excessively packaged.  I am trying to buy less of these things and instead offer more fruit and nuts for snacks.  We've been enjoying what I call "super snacks", a kind of homemade Lara Bar of dates, almonds, coconut, flax, sometimes some chocolate chips, and a dash of maple syrup all food processed and rolled into bite size balls.  I keep them in the freezer and try to pack a few for the car if I know we'll be out and about for the day.  These are really yummy, and they fill us up so we don't need to keep snacking on empty calories.

I've been making our own yogurt and granola for a couple of years (cheaper and much less packaging), and am now brewing my first batch of Kombucha (so far its too early to tell if its working out--I'll keep you posted.)

In addition Rob and I have been clearing out anything we don't use or need.  He has always been very good at this, me not so much.  But so far progress has been made.  I've got three large bags full of clothes for Good Will and we've already made 3 different trips to drop off extra kitchen stuff, toys and games, and outer wear that doesn't fit anyone in the house.  I suppose this is really just spring cleaning, but it feels good.  I'd like to give away a lot more before my attitude changes and I start waxing nostalgic about that dress that I haven't worn since high school (really, even if I could fit into it would look ridiculous on a 30 something mom of three).

I also just watched the documentary "No Impact Man" available to watch instantly on Netflix.  Having lived rurally all my life I was astounded at how little connection this guy, Collin had with the environment--even being a self proclaimed environmentalist.  I mean I know lots of people don't appreciate the connection between humans and the rest of nature, but I didn't realize how little connection some people understood.  There's a part at the end when he realizes that the changing of seasons is marked by changes in the Earth and food--not just in turning the page on a calendar, aha!  I can't even remove myself enough from my experiences to realize that people live that way--without noticing the seasons I mean.  It makes N.Y. City sound like a different planet.  I feel so blessed to have had the opportunities to live surrounded by nature, and to raise my children with that knowledge and experience.

That aside, the documentary was very good.  It was cool to see a family who had, before their experiment, been living a highly consumptive life, change so drastically.  And, even though they went back to a lot of their old ways at the end of the year they chose to keep some things.  I thought there was a real turning point somewhere in the middle when Collin realizes that there are alternatives to seeking comfort and luxury in sustainable ways (ie. solar power) and its not all about giving up what you love.  I do feel like he could have done some more research ahead of time and made his entire project much more enjoyable--but maybe less notable as well.  Impact aside, I also appreciated the honesty shown between Collin and his wife.  There were a few scenes where they had some pretty weighty discussions and I loved that they kept these in the film.

So, if you haven't seen it, do.  Its worth it, and good to knit to.  Then check out Zero Waste Home, and join me in reducing some waste.  I'd love to hear some more ideas on practical ways to do this.  I noticed Crunchy Chicken was asking for recipes for homemade cleaning supplies and toiletries recently.
Hopefully she'll post the results soon.  If you have any favorites I'd like to hear them.


Post script  I do realize that many people in the city appreciate and understand these connections, and that in many ways urban living provides more opportunities for living sustainably as a community.  I honestly am only expressing my shock at his realization--not any criticism of city life.

Aftershock

The other night I was jarred awake by a loud cracking noise.  It was a frigid night (-6 F) and I thought maybe a pipe had burst, or one of the timbers in the attic had split.
But, the next day we did some research and found that we had had an actual earthquake.
The epicenter was about 4 miles from our house, and it measured 1.4 on the Richter scale .  As far as I know there was no damage done.

Maine is not known for its earthquakes.  Blizzards, yes, black flies, mosquitoes, cold water, lobsters, yes, yes, yes. But not earthquakes.  If we lived in California this would be uneventful.  But this is Maine.  (O.K., it was still relatively uneventful, but it has got me thinking).

It is easy to imagine my life will always be as it is (the children will grow--too quickly, of course) but with all of us in our places, doing what we do, settled.  It is a settled way of life here in Maine.

The reality is though, things could change at any moment.  No one knows what will happen, or when.

I guess I'm feeling like this is a chance to stop and take note.  To appreciate and make the most of the opportunities I have to do what I love, and somehow spend less time on the things that I don't enjoy (laundry comes to mind...)

There is a quote I love, "The way we spend our days is, of course, the way we spend our lives" - Annie Dillard (I think).  Somehow that tiny earthquake makes this thought seem even more important.  Let's not waste anytime on the unnecessary (I've already got some ideas for the laundry situation).

Life is unpredictable,  and nothing is permanent.

Indeed, even the very ground is shifting.