Spring Means Scrub !

Spring Cleaning is happening! Lucy and I are spending this week taking the house apart in a good old fashioned Seasonal Scrub. I love the booklet my bloggy friend Alison offers on her blog. All the specifics and details in one place. I printed and bound my copy at Kinkos this year for easier reference.



Today we finally busted out the sponges and the soap after a lot of dusting and sweeping yesterday.

I am so thirsty!!! I keep pouring big glasses of ice water and downing them every time I end up in the kitchen again. Lemon wedges and lime slices are my best friend at the moment. Wonder if it's all the dust in the job, the hard work and sweating or the just spring coming on that's making me thirsty.







Yesterday we rough swept each room, put the rugs into a big pile and vacuumed cobwebs down off the ceiling.




Today we stripped the beds and cleaned and flipped the mattresses, then cleaned the microwave and upstairs refrigerator. I am almost done washing all the pillows and blankets and throws.





I am purging things as I go, heaping up big piles of things to take to the kids consignment shop, to sell online and to just pack off to Goodwill. Feeling giddy over the lightening!

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Frogs In The Sunroom

It was a good day full of sunshine and warmth and scratching things off my list that I have been meaning to do for years. Like catching wild frog eggs with my sons!


Frogs are hard to see...harder if you are between 2 and 7 and prone to wiggles. BUT...I persevered with my stillness coaching and we saw frogs. Several of them, mostly males of different colors, brown and green with touches of gold and black trim and one that was a dark russet orange. I also saw one female, pregnant with a big poofy clutch of eggs. She dived before the boys could follow my pointing finger.



I thought we were out if luck looking for eggs though. None. Not one cluster. And then I started seeing them, tucked almost into the leaves, visible when your head was tilted just so, sunlight hitting to surface of the vernal pond in a certain way. Like a cluster of black pearls just below the surface.



The boys were curious and amazed and each had to feel them and ask 40 questions because 20 is for slackers. We put one cluster off glistening eggs into a plastic Superman bowl and filled a juice bottle with extra pond water for later and took them home.



And now there are teeny, little frog babies growing in a fishbowl in my sunroom! :) Happy Thursday to me!

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Water, Sweet, Water

Are you an ocean hater? I've met just a few who aren't sea folk: those who aren't swimmers, those who hate their bodies, those who are terrified of sharks, or those who think such idle pleasures are a waste of time perhaps. I am very pleased that my parents-in-law are both big fans of the ocean. They're a lot of fun to share a beach outing with. Truth be told, they are perhaps bigger fans than I am.

I love the ocean, I love water and swimming and the whole outdoor experience. But I have to admit I had to let the ocean in particular grow on me. I grew up away from the coast but a water child all the same. I just have this fresh water stumbling block. I was raised spitting distance from pristine Northern Michigan beaches and spent many, many happy hours of my childhood rolling in the sand or floating on the waves by turns.

I only had one short interaction with the ocean before adulthood, a wonderful overnight camping trip on Assateague Island fueled by our avid consumption of the Misty books (horse lovers unite!). It was a strange meeting: the weird, fishy, salt air, the strangely creeping tidal shore, and all the mysterious shells crunching under our feet. I wasn't sure immediately, what I personally thought about the big body of water in front of us, but I knew I was meant to like it. We stood on the cathedral shore as a family and prayed and sang and I watched my parents close their eyes and feel the surf and watch our faces expectantly for pleased reactions. I liked it.

Now I love a good trip to the beach and I feel kind of honored to be able to raise my children near the pounding ocean froth. I love the horseshoe crabs mating the spring, seeing scallops and mussels arranged like solitaire by my two year old on the sand, and the stiff salt breeze that starts to wrap its arms around you as you get close to the old beach roads. But I have to say, I'm a sweet water girl in my soul of souls. In my inner self I will always cringe about the bitter taste of ocean in my mouth and the sting of it in my eyes, I hate the way your skin feels coated with grime after the salt water dries and truth be told (although I'd never admit it to my boys) I do sometimes think nervously of sharks and jellies and other ocean creatures. I love a tide pool and I think seeing a starfish in person is one of the coolest nature experiences I've ever had but The Great Lakes hold a corner of my heart that can never be replaced. I'm a sweet water girl who has learned to love the sea too.

Its funny to think that my boys will have my opinions in reverse if life keeps on in the same vein. They'll grow up near the sea, know the salt water and feel at home in it and they'll visit sweet water and feel its strange bright smell and think its a little off....a little off but nice nonetheless. And I hope they find they have two watery corners of their hearts too.

Mommy, Heal Thyself

Sometimes, life is just too much and I'm kind of blowing steam out my ears and afraid someone will talk to me at which point I will either explode or burst into tears...not that anything super horrible is happening.  I just need a little time in a safe place sometimes, a little hope and a little healing and some way to create some extra buffer space and margin for myself.

Image by tkw954 via Flickr

Historically, the woods where I grew up was my "safe place" where I went to recover and breathe again. There was a bottomless sort of solid freshness to the feel of a mound of moss under my fingers or the tinkling run of the crick at the bottom of our little valley.

Image via Wikipedia

Once I no longer lived in a woods I had to extemporize. I would escape the pressure of campus relationship dramas, my roomate's eating disorders and the endless industrial pavement of the city and drive my little clunker around in aimless wandering spirals on little country roads north of town and south of town and east of town, wherever the sidewalks ended and the farmstands began. I'd roll the windows down and play loud music and sometimes stop to sit in a roadside ditch just to listen to the crickets sing around me.

Image via Wikipedia

Then once I was married life got a little busier and I couldn't always dash off to drive off my worries but I discovered a greenhouse in town not far from where I worked and sometimes when a rough shift ended on a cold winter night, I'd stop at the greenhouse and dawdle my way through every single row and table, reading the names of different epiphytes and orchids, playing in the water the the table-top fountains they sold burbled and petting the ubiquitous greenhouse kitties. I don't know if it was the sound of moving water, the smell of growing things, the green haze in the air or the purring nudge of the resident cats but it always worked. I'd go back to my car feeling like I could walk again, like I wouldn't cry after all and like there was a reason to live.

Lemons as big as your head!

Maybe you think I'm crazy and shallow and even selfish, but that's how it works with me. The one last place that has been a haven in tough times (don't laugh!) is Panera Bread. Somehow everything is alright again when I am snuggled own in a warm booth, watching the fireplace flicker with a mug of coca as big as my head between my hands. I think I can thank my sister-in-law, Jane for introducing me to this particular form of healing. We spent many a chatty afternoon back in my college and post-college Michigan days noshing in the comforting glow of Panera after they built one right down the road from her house. Now Panera makes think of all those who love me and slow conversation and laughter and good times and there's also something very boosting as the perennial mommy-person who takes care of everyone else, in having someone else make me lunch and bring it to me on a platter (special perk of appearing at the counter with your arms full of babies) even if "someone else" is a guy named Jose who doesn't know me from Adam is being paid by someone else to make my lunch. Still. I'll take it. And it does come with a fireplace and a mug of cocoa the size of my head.

Giant green leaves. :)

Today I took the boys to Panera. (They pretty much always have to come along whenever mommy needs some healing.) I've discovered that Panera makes pb&j perfectly and that they serve these exciting little yogurt-in-a-tube snacks that Mommy never buys which are thrilling to my sons. We had lunch together, watched all the other people eating lunch and talked about them, snuggled up to the fireplace, and then bought a gingerbread man to split over our cocoa. Life was better.

The beautiful herb wreaths they were making while we were there today, all sage and bay and thyme etc. They smelled amazing.

Nib, wandering the aisles.

And then I remembered that there was a greenhouse I'd heard a rumor about that I'd been meaning to visit for some time...so we gps'd it and drove ourselves right over. There are actually about four greenhouses, a special one just for herbs, one with an amazing, lush lemon tree and one with an indoor farmer's market once a week (today, just by chance!). There are kitties curled up snoozing on the top of plant racks, there is that moist green smell that all greenhouses have and there are little corners where nobody is and you can just let your boys sit down on the ground and run the pea gravel through their fingers while you smell flowers and meander around fingering tags. The doors on each house close so there's no serious losing of the toddler and it turns out my boys light up just as much as I do when they walk into a greenhouse. We all left ready to come back again soon. I think I just found my safe place. If you need a little solace yourself and you happen to be in the area, this particular greenhouse is called Gilbertie's Herb Garden. So, I'm feeling better now, and our house is one jasmine plant and a few herbs richer and we have a place to run when the needle is on E.

Swimming In A Waterfall

Number 38 on my Lifetime Bucket List, "Swim in a Waterfall"..........Check!

Pretty incredible feeling. We found this local spot via this amazing website I just found. Wanna check out your own local swimming hole secrets? Check out the amazing lists and scoops published and reviewed by other local swimmers at Swimmingholes.org.  What a really fun find! A and I thought it was a beautiful place to cool off together in the water after a picnicky date night out without the kids

Swimming area in the river, above the falls.

Playing with the feel of the waterfall. Pretty amazing.

I feel like we've put a pretty fabulous gold star on our summer activities with this one. It's not every day you discover secret, romantic water hang-outs. I felt like a character out of a mermaid legend, letting the water tumble over my hands. Major kudos to whichever romantic soul set that sturdy stump up under the waterfall, my Bucket List says thank you.

Poetry Friday: A Heat Wave Poem

Golden moment during our after-dinner swim the other night.

Happy Poetry Friday everyone! I hope you are all having a wonderful time wherever you are in this beauitful shining world. I am listening, all day now to the rattling buzz of cicadas and thinking fondly of sunflowers. (I will plant some next year!)

I am thinking about swimming to excess because we're headed off to the beach for the weekend. My poem today is perfect for a person who is a bit fixated on shore-life. I can think of very little else. So, enjoy this little glimpse of summer in my world and have a great weekend!

I will be back, re-charged and ready to conquor the world on Monday. Cape Cod, here we come!

August Remedy

When I was small we would end unbearably hot days
With boisterous runs to the perfect coolness of Lake Michigan.
I sit here this morning, sweating while sitting still and think
Of those childhood runs for the water, all of us flailing joyfully.
The sun is blazing through the open window, no breeze in sight,
I listen to the voices of our three boys, playing in the sprinkler
And I remember how I sat like this when I was nine or ten
Squinting in the sun, waiting for Papa's truck to crunch in the drive
How the house became a buzzing whirl of swimsuit searching
And six children slap, slap, slapped up the path to the minivan.
We are having a heat wave here in Connecticut and I watch
The wiggles radiating off the sidewalk and think of the big, wet ocean
Only minutes away from our house (if you have a minivan).
Almost Lake Michigan.
I miss the solace of knowing that when the car rolls in the drive
I'm headed for that cool, silver feeling when your head first slips under.
Survival sometimes depends on these notions
Our three sons slog into the house, tired of hose-play and too hot for tag.
We drip popsicles on the front stoop, and re-fill the ice-cube tray until
We peter out and sit languidly in front of the box fan.
I slowly fold a tower of clothes, they poke each other.
And so I dial, waiting for you to answer from your cool office, far away
And I tell you that tonight we need to stage a re-enactment,
A certain re-dancing of the steps I have been taught for these dog-days.
When you come home, we munch sandwiches standing up,
Dripping pickle juice down our wrists and on our bathing suits
Then our boys run: slap, slap, slap to the minivan, elbowing into seats
Even the baby jigging along behind, talking to himself as he goes.
And that is how I find myself, taking this flying run across the sand
Splashing into the water and drinking in that first shimmering plunk.
I pull the glittering cool into my very veins, sipping potent heat-remedy
And float like an otter, my grin lifting me skyward, along with my pink, boyant toes.

If you get the chance, stop on over at, A Year of Literacy Coaching, today's Poetry Friday host-blog and read through the other offerings, a summery smattering of everything.

The Part of Summer That Tastes Good

We are to the part of summer that begins to taste really good. I picked up our first CSA share this afternoon and walked back to the car with my arms full of more delicious meal prospects. The bounty overfloweth! The lettuce has started to really tumble out of our garden, there are broccoli spears to snip and the tomatoes are blossoming!

I noticed that the Lutheran church on the corner is having a Strawberry Festival this weekend. We may all have to walk down and stuff ourselves with shortcake and meet more neighbors. Somebody pinch me, I can't believe I live here!

It's a good thing summer tastes good. We're gonna need a few large and icy slices of watermelon to ease us through tomorrow's 100 degree temps. I plan to spend the day doing nothing but eating Popsicles, playing in the sprinkler and organizing the basement. You think I'm kidding? I am so deadly serious. This Northern girl does not cope well with extreme heat. I am lettuce. I wilt.

My dishwasher is so clean, you can eat out of it!

Those, folks, are the two cleanest peas on the planet. They've been through turbo rinse and heated dry, a swish of Jet Dry and a whole lot of hot water and cheerily presented themselves to me this morning when I opened the machine. Bing! Here we are! Bright and shiny! The world's cleanest food.

Coffee: Homegrown, Home-dipped.

Remember, back when I talked about the coffee tree blooming?

So, it bloomed beautifully...and survived the wild botanical mistreatment of our move and then it started making coffee cherries! Really! I couldn't believe it. I was so proud. This  stalwart little tree, valiantly blossoming and fruiting here in the chaos of an urban home in Connecticut. That's guts, right?

As soon as Planty (he has a name) started to fruit out A and I began plotting what we'd do with the coffee. We're not big coffee drinkers and it was sure to be an infinitesimal amount of beans anyway. We considered just eating the cherries by themselves to see what coffee in-the-raw was like and decided we felt badly about not going further with our hard-won produce. And then a brilliant idea hit me! Chocolate covered coffee beans. Genius. A small amount was ideal, it highlighted the little nuggets beautifully and it would be a genuine experience to take it from tree to table. The other hidden bonus was of course that chocolate covered coffee beans can easily be packed up and fly across the ocean to be shared with Miq and Penny, the tree's rightful owners.

And that is how I found myself finishing the process, this afternoon and looking proudly at the first homegrown coffee beans, hand-dipped in quality dark chocolate....that I have ever known. There is something cool about making a thing yourself, however silly the quest may be.

Here's how it worked:

First we picked the ripe, red cherries.

Then we peeled off the skin (which we found were sweet when we couldn't resist tasting them), and put the beans themselves to soak and ferment in a little water.

They soaked for about 3 days. Every day or so I poured off the water and added fresh and rubbed the beans to encourage the pulp to drift off and leave the seeds bare. Somewhere in there, the seeds began to separate and I found that each cherry contains two seeds, their flat bellies sweetly pressed together. You learn new things, every time the sun comes up. Once the seeds were feeling pretty clean, I rubbed them smooth and free of all fleshy bits and gave them one more good rinse under the faucet.

Next I stoked a fire in the fireplace and got out the vintage popcorn popper that I found at an estate sale this summer.

Once the fire had created some nice coals I put all the beans into the cage and rattled them over the coals for a good long time, checking periodically to see how they were coming. Eventually, they started to smell nicely: a great toasting, roasting aroma that I can still smell hanging in the house. Not too long after, they were finished. I think we might have taken some of them a bit farther than we wanted but hey....a dark roast is more European, right?

I let the beans cool and melted some dark chocolate. Once the chocolate was a shining, wet puddle of sweet I was ready to do the final dip. Each bean took a swim in the cocoa bowl and then was dripped out onto a wax paper sheet where they cooled and became...our very first crop of homegrown chocolate covered coffee beans. So, so cool.

Miq and Penny, watch your mailbox!