Cherry Blossom Haze

Just today, the cherry blossoms started opening. This next week will be stunning, the weekend may be a glowing daze. We are having magnificent weather with gentle breezes and buckets of sunshine alternating with torrential winds, chill and rain, rain, rain. The lawn is ready for a first cut and all the raised beds have been planted except for the potatoes and the children's garden. Our plum trees started opening their blossoms this morning. Must keep an avid watch on the fungus and pests and be liberal with my organic sprays and compost tea. I am also planning to order a giant dump of mulch to keep everything handily tucked in and moist for when the hot weather arrives. Its also time to divide any perennials I want to trim down and QUICK, finish the brick trim on the front walk! EEP!

 The boys are getting so panicked about being outdoors at all times that they are trying desperately to throw off the yoke of household chores. I am trying to remember to be insistent but it is SO hard! I am terrible at staying consistent and modeling the things I want them to learn. Most of parenting has been parenting myself, I swear. I must finish my chores before I get all distracted while feeding the chickens and wander over to check out the seedlings and trim the pear tree and admire the crocus and see if the grape vine is budding. Adhere! I must learn the things I am trying to teach. No time like the present. 

 This morning I gave myself a haircut. I would include a photo but I doubt it would be very dramatically visible to anyone. I cut about four or five inches off the ends but it was so stringy and brittle and damaged that there wasn't much volume left. I have to say that I love me some YouTube tutorials. That's where I taught myself how to cut my side angle bangs. That's where I learned how to cut my sister Lockbox's curly hair and that's where I went this morning when I had the itch to fix the scraggly, dried and breaking mess that was my hair. I parted and trimmed and brushed and angled and trimmed again until I had trimmed it all into gradual piecey layers, framing my face on both sides, all serious damage trimmed away and the parts that are left mostly falling in a regular and even fashion. I feel so much better. Cutting my own hair makes me feel like a dog that had all the winter mats trimmed of its paws or a sheep that's been sheared right before the June heat hits in waves. Its so relieving and freshening! Someday maybe I'll go to a salon and have them do it all for me but its hard to trust a random pair of shears when I know what I want and my own experiments are free.

 The bikes are back out and I am realizing that even though Dee is 7, I haven't really focused on working on getting him riding on a two-wheeler without training wheels very confidently. Goals for the Spring! Also, we seriously need to weed down our collection of wheeled vehicles. We do not need the gigantic fleet that we posses. Yay for the approaching neighborhood swap day!

 I am drinking a fair amount of protein shakes these days. I have decided that my new workouts and maybe just my normal activity warrants a more reliable protein supply and I have been whizzing them up when I am too busy to have a real sit-down lunch or when breakfast seemed like it had more produce than muscle feed in it. One of favorites has been a "pumpkin pie" version made with coconut milk, canned pumpkin pulp and cinnamon + vanilla protein powder. Yum! Its a treat that I don't really mind the boys indulging in with me and sometimes its serving as an ice cream substitute after dinner if I whiz in frozen fruit (Yay, new Costco membership this year!!!) and then scoop it into a bunch of tiny bowls.

 Pom is trying to potty train although I have been impossibly lazy about it. Here he is about to turn three and I am not there yet. I am embarrassed to admit that the "last baby" thing has infected me and threatens to allow me to spoil him. Argh! How can that be me? I know about that crazy stuff and I hate the idea of being like that. Its also just hard to be dedicated to the toilet cause when there is baseball practice and swimming lessons and co-op and gardening not to mention the laundry and the mopping. So much to keep on top of and his wearing diapers still seems somehow excusable. The good news is that he seems motivated himself on some level. He's doing pretty well at keeping clean at this point, telling me to take him to the bathroom when the need arises without any prompting. Staying dry is a whole 'nother story but hey....we can't ask the sun, moon and stars all at once!

I have been working on very little painting lately although I have a couple of ideas percolating and A is taking one of his necessary but unpopular trips to the West Coast again this coming week. I also hope to watch a few movies, maybe finish painting my bedroom and push a little bit of extra yoga into my life. Optimist much?

Hey, listen....its Spring!

Learning Art Failure

We are trapped indoors. There is a chill, dull rain pelting down and the wind is roaring over the top of our hill, dropping limbs, tipping over the rose trellis and driving all six of our poor hens to huddle damply in a clump in their coop. The boys aren't really trapped, truth be told...just me. I sit indoors and keep the washer and dryer going, towels at the ready, tea on tap while the boys play war in raging drizzle. Nothing like bone chilling cold, brisk wind and sideways rain to make you feel like playing survival, making knives out of sticks and living on a perpetual hunted march. I hang damp hoodies and jackets up, peel wet socks off and re-mop the muddy kitchen tile. We skipped math homework today. There was too much war. Its hard for me to interrupt their imaginative play, especially when they are all playing happily. We'll do double math tomorrow to make up for it. I promise.

Today we did manage to get some art time in. Wednesday is our art day. We are studying one artist at a time, learning a little art history (we just finished Matisse) and trying out the techniques of the greats. Today I painted a nature journal still-life of three bumblebees I found in the basement. I balanced Baby Pom on my lap and we spread watercolors and brushes and papers with dripping art all over the table. It makes me really happy to see how much the boys love to dabble in creating.

Dee is a perfectionist extreme and although excited to dabble and very pleased when something comes out the right way he really falls to sobbing pieces when he can't paint something the way he meant to. We all get that feeling. I am stumbling over teaching him to accept his flaws, love the process and figure out how to let go of the perfect result. I have some ideas: let him see me be artistically reckless and mess stuff up.

But his own inner criticism is so strong. I'm not sure how to soften his feelings, allow to be unhappy with his creation and be honest about his reaction but not be swept under by it. Raising boys is tricky. I want feelers so bad but I see the danger of allowing them to be ragers or pouty depressives whenever the spirit moves. Anyone have any tips about how to walk these mommy lines?

I keep drinking more tea and holding him when he cries and trying to understand and manage his angry. I do the same things for myself with just as reliable a result. Sometimes tea and a little self hug will do the trick and sometimes I cry and rage until I can't sleep at night. This is the real trick about parenthood, right? Teaching your children things that you can see they need to know....but you never really learned yourself. Physician heal thyself. The good news is that, at least some small percentage of the time, living childhood next to your kids for the second time does teach you things you never really got and gives you chances upon chances at things you never realized you totally missed the first time around. I love being a grown-up.

Storms and Sniffles

Spending a rainy day in today. There's a terrific wind outdoors bending the tops of the tall trees in the neighborhood. We were out this morning with our homeschool co-op pals and as we drove home the road was littered with fallen leafy branches blowing around in circles. We are supposed to get a big rain to boot but so far we've seen nothing but clouds and a lot of big gusts. We've got a crazy level of humidity today which makes me glad that I pre-baked dinner last night to make co-op day easier on myself.

The nice thing about stormy days pre-rain is that they always bring really interesting light. Fascinating to watch how different colors look in the changing palette we have coming in through our windows. These are lipstick pink chard stems....kind of a late summer echo of the rhubarb stalks. Great colors, right?

Baby Pom is sniffling away from a little cold. Although he is being very resolute in spite feeling stuffy and having a very pint-sized and tragic, little cough. I think we will spend tonight nursing in the rocker and propping him up on a stack of pillows between sessions. Time to get out the Vicks and drink extra cups of tea after the sun goes down to keep up with the milk demand.

Comb Honey and September Rain

The world is a sodden, dripping place today. We are having one of those gently, sifting September rains I am so fond of. I remember the year that I abruptly started to like autumn after years of being a whiny complainer whenever it wasn't springtime.

I was taking a culinary arts class and I remember getting up very early in the morning and driving off to school with my knife kit and my gigantic recipe book in my chef whites thinking glowingly "How had I never noticed that September rain was a hidden, unnoticed loveliness in life?" I had never noticed before how vivid all the colors are in the rain and how the world slows down, such a lovely thing after the harried panic of school-starting-up-season. I love the mist that comes tip-toeing ahead of the rain in the early morning and the chilly, dankness inside once it really begins to fall....just daring you turn on the kettle and get a good book out. Everyone loves the way rain smells and I love the fact that September rain is often gentle and soothing, a reason for migrating birds to stop their flight and take a pleasant, little congregational water break.

Image via Wikipedia

Bird Migration Patterns of the world, our birds head to South America.

This morning the boys and I pressed our noses against the window and watched a flock of robins stop in our backyard on their way to Brazil or Argentina. They were singing some beautiful rainy day tunes and taking turns hopping around the gravel drive looking for weed seeds and other tidbits. I hope the find all the crabgrass seeds. Ru cocked his head and asked me, "Mommy, why do birds get so happy when it rains?" Maybe he needs to wait awhile for his own autumn epiphany.

First Harvest, my first frame of honey from my own hive.

I screwed up my courage and broke into the bee hive again to check on their stores and also harvested a little taste of honey. I won't really take in any quantity of honey this year at all, the bees need all the boost they can get just to be sure they are able to harvest enough honey to get them through their first winter on our property.

Beautiful natural comb.

I took one frame of honey and we are eating it, sliced in thin, melting globs or cut into golden, sticky squares and ferried to our mouths with dripping speed, right in the comb. The honey is very pale blonde, almost clear, just the gentlest yellow with a very high floral flavor, not at all heavy or dark. The first bite was legendary, transcendent eating.

Related articles

• #19 September: Haiga ~ Autumn Rains (19planets.wordpress.com)
• Rain-Catching Coat Is Part Art, Part Utility, Totally Awesome (pcworld.com)
• Time to start preparing your home for winter (seattletimes.nwsource.com)
• Weatherwatch: Early autumn bird migration (guardian.co.uk)
• Bird Migration (witchesofthecraft.wordpress.com)

Downton Abbey Fever

Am always late to join these cultural parties [see the mentions about the series in this, this, this and this blog I read] but I am finally working my way through Downton Abbey (Hooray instant Netflix! And hooray rainy days!) and am much enthralled, wondering why in the world I waited so long.

Image by c_l_b via Flickr

I was getting ready for a break from the self-educational non-fiction that is my normal track, time for a little escapism. Especially, since the weather is so bizarre, dismal and even obstructive to normal springtime activity. (I have a feeling that it will take me longer than I imagined to get the garden all in, for instance.) But, no matter! I am neck deep in Brittania and suffragettes and butlers and proposals and ladies maids. *sigh* Ru has actually even taken to watching with me which has been quite fun. I'm not sure how much he understands, but he's interested and sometimes he asks me questions..."What's that thing he's carrying Mommy? etc..."

Someday I will go to England...and spend my own holiday "season" in London...someday....

Until then, it is blooming, floral May even if it is rainy although I have to admit I am finding myself swept back up in homekeeping interest, and less drawn towards the landscaping plans of old...all this grey makes the indoors the most alluring thing I suppose. I always feel a bit inspired regarding my housekeeping whenever I see films with lots of maid footage. This time what is catching my eye is the lovely rotating bouquets of flowers all over the manor house. There are quite a few times when maids are busily laying out fresh arrangements and some moments when we catch glimpses of a vase full of this or that on the dresser or the side table etc. And I swoon.

After watching an episode today I went dashing out into the yard twice "between the raindrops" with a basket to snip and clip whatever I found. Right now our lily-of-the-valley is all in bloom so it was my most leaned upon basket filler....and then I went inside to dry off and assemble a train of bottles, jugs and vases on the counter for stuffing with blooms. Such fun to sweep the house up, polish off the windowsills and set out little jugs of blooms while a big pot of split pea soup bubbled on the stove. Sometimes life is jolly.

Spring, When the Livin' is Easy!

Today the air is heavy with suppressed humidity, the kind of weather makes the sky feel like it is hanging low and as though all the clouds are some heavy swooping blanket muffling over everything. I make it sound so grey and oppressive. Truth is that the air feels moist and swirly, there's a gentle breeze occasionally that keeps the maple branches outside all tipped with little bouquets of bright green blossoms, bowing and nodding  surprisingly at odd moments.

Image by ~ Martin ~ via Flickr

Maple Blossoms.

There is a kind of dark intensity to the light on this kind of a day too. Colors seem richer and more saturated without the sunlight there to wash them out into pastel versions of themselves. The air is laden with water which (scientific fact!) makes all perfumed scent from the neighborhood flowers more deep and rich, a heavy trail of sweetness sometimes whirls inexplicably in through the open window when a gust of wind hits the poet's narcissus or the pansies just the right way.

Image by vinmar via Flickr

The magnolia at the end of our street is a gigantic cotton candy ball, all pink whirling petals and creamy undersides, a massive undulating mass of curve and shape and soft pastel joy. Last night when I was out running I avoided the tree until the very end of my run when I had finished pushing myself through the very last bits of reserve that I possessed. Only then did I let myself pant to a stop under the great pastel mass of a tree. I knew that if I let myself end up under those spreading baby pink branches before I was finished with my run that I would leave off, part way through, my face lifted not caring two sticks whether I finished the course or not. All else can dissolve in the presence of a tree in full bloom. What is running really when there are five thousand, thousand creamy petals littering the sidewalk and a host more poised in the air above you?

The magnolia is not the only focal point. Our apple tree opened it's first little wads of magenta, the verbena hedge between us and the neighbors is just beginning top open, our potted nectarine is an absurd stick with wads of bright tissue paper blossoms and all across our back lawn there is a rippling spill of violets, deep purple mixed with a purple veined white variety...so many more of them than I dared hope when I noticed their little rosettes of leaves in amongst the grass last fall.

Spring is my favorite. My very favorite. I feel hopeful that I can make it, that I can smell success on the wind. I know that it's supposed to be summer time "when the livin' is easy" because of the cotton being high and all but I have to say that it feels like a misdiagnosis to me, Spring is where it's at.

Related articles

• Fragrance, Food & Spring Joys : Perfume Talk (boisdejasmin.typepad.com)
• The Magnolia (craigspics.wordpress.com)
• Homemade Dandelion Syrup (witchesofthecraft.wordpress.com)
• Morning photo: Brooklyn spring (summitcountyvoice.com)
• Glad I Saw It: Magnolias (mutterschwester.wordpress.com)

Poetry Friday: Spring Fever In Action

Image by Bill Gracey via Flickr

Happy Poetry Friday to each and every one of you!

Been out this morning a bit and going to be out a bit more the rest of the day. I love it when poetry happens to me, especially on a busy Friday like this one. I always wonder if this week will be one of the weeks when I sit there waiting for a poem, or if the perfect inspiration will hit via idea or experience. Today, Poetry came by and stepped into my life without so much as a "by your leave" and it was lovely. Transporting even.

To My Husband, Just So He Knows

There was something in the air this morning
After I took you to work I pulled in the drive
And bolted rashly from the car, bent with purpose.
The grass was squishy gold and rain was sifting down.
Around a hidden corner of the foundation was a nest
Of forgotten iris rhizomes and they were calling
My fingers feverishly, right there into the mud,
Packing my nails with dark-lines and smudging my left cuff.
I was fumbling earnestly, over the grass, in the rain
Pulling the knobby ginger roots from the turf and
Snaggling them out from under the metal highway
Of the rain gutter sloping over their lumpy toes and
The small silver blue sword points beginning to emerge.
I bent there over the irises and manically pulled
And tossed until I had grown a small heap of liberated
Roots and nubbins, muddy smears and blue-silver tips.
I took the accumulation over to a blank chocolate bed,
And like some desperate primeaval horticulturalist
Used a handy, triangular rock to gouge out muddy earth
Scratching each shallow pit, then tucking in the roots,
Patting soil over them with my sticky brown finger tips.
And there was our son beside me, curious and big-eyed
Watching Mommy crouching over a damp patch of earth
In a pale blue trench coat in the drizzling rain
All mud up to the wrists, gleaming white ear-buds
Dangling over one shoulder and the car keys still in her teeth.

I love that suddenly, after one manic fifteen minutes I have an organized little iris patch. I wonder if all the roots will thrive and take and above all, I wonder and can hardly wait to see what colors that little batch of nubby roots will produce. I am praying that among them there will be one or two of the tall, old-fashioned purples with the long falls and the heavy tangy scent like grape soda.

If you enjoyed this taste of  verse and want a little more to satiate your poetic appetite, click your way over to Liz In Ink and enjoy perusing the list of all the Poetry Friday contributors right along with me!