Winter Whiteness in Portland

There were some beautiful, even magical, moments over this holiday in Portland. We got snow and we got a lot of it. Each morning we would wake up to a new glistening layer of whiteness to play with and admire. Norah and Harvey built snowmen, made snow angels, cried from the cold, laughed with it. A winter storm to remember. Now there is just the sludge, and there is a lot of it...

Columbia River in November

The weather has been bright, clear and chilly here for the past couple of weeks. We have been sadly squandering much of it away inside because I have been tired, tired, tired. But we have managed to get outside to enjoy it on a couple of occasions. On this particular Sunday morning, we watched planes take off, Harvey's new favorite pass-time, by the Portland airport. Following that, we went to a beach by the Columbia River. The kids ran around, drew pictures in the sand, and Harvey stared silently again out at the water. Beautiful, calm morning.

Little Apron for Little Norah

There is something hysterically cute about this picture to me--Norah wearing my first completed sewing project, the tiniest of aprons. Sometimes it is so hard to believe that a person so small can be so big in my life, in all of the big ways that one can imagine. Big loving, big terrorizing, big everything....

I have been meaning to post about this for a while because it has been finished for a few months and I have been off to a couple other projects (will post about those after the holidays) on my sewing machine. Sewing is... different from knitting. It's not that I don't like it; I do. It's just that I have to hone a skill set that I do not already have--attention to detail seems to me so far to be paramount to a successful sewing project. I knitting, I can fudge it; rather than ripping out a project, I can fib my way through it (sometimes poorly, but still). In sewing, well not so much. Nonetheless, I did make some mistakes on this little apron and my small person love sit just the same.

Shawl 1: Finished

Finally!! I started this one in June before moving to Portland and it was just finished last weekend. There are some pretty noticeable mistakes in the shawl, a pattern from Blue Sky Alpaca, but all in all, it looks pretty, doesn't it?! I crocheted (for the first time) the picot edge border around it and it gave the piece a nice finishing touch. Now on to more holiday knitting...

In a previous life

I must have done something very VERY wrong on November 19th. I have come to this conclusion because:

1. one of my kids was up throughout the night
2. It was nearly 10:30 before I got my coffee
3. It was nearly 10:30 before I got my coffee because there was a nearly hour long double tantrum prior to 10:30
4. I attempted to make black beans for dinner but most of them ended up on the floor before they got into the pot
5. my house is in a state of total and complete chaos. Saran wrap, Harvey's milk, and numerous other items have been located in the toy basket.
6. there is a missing jar of honey. I have found the drippings around the house but no honey. One Harvey Tripp is certain to be the culprit as he was lurking around the pantry during one of his sister's tantrums. Opportunist.

I should have taken a picture of my house today and posted it in the Corners of My Home flickr group.

Autumn Days: 10

Last week, we participated in a lantern walk with the Shining Star Waldorf play group. The walk took place at 5:30, when it is nearly completely dark in this northern corner of the planet. There is a particular significance to the festival in the Christian Waldorf tradition, but, for me, it was about Stormy, holding a little lantern for her and for the light she gave us for 12 years. I carved a couple of holes into turnips that were going to go bad in my kitchen, put a votive candle inside each of them, and made a handle. The candles would not stay lit and neither Norah or Harvey would hold their lantern. We left the walk half way through it--literally bolted for our car, frozen and hungry. A nice idea...

Corners of My Home

I think this is one of my favorite spots in our house right now. I like the mustard color of the walls; the plum prints we got in Holland at the Rummikub competition remind me of my grandmother; and the grey nightstand (a grossly overpriced purchase from Anthropologie), even though my love of it is somewhat depreciated by Brian's complaints about its price, can make me smile when I am sad. I try to keep flowers in this corners, but flowers die around me, no matter how hard I try.

Return to Blogland

Because of some sadness in the family, I took last week off from blogging and filled my nights with endless hours of movies in order to dull the pain. One of the movies delivered to my doorstep by Netflix (why, oh why, did I wait so long to join up? Netflix just might be the answer to all of my problems or, at least, the treatment for all of my problems) was How to Cook Your Life. Edward Espe Brown, who I believe is a Buddhist monk and runs a Zen Center, takes his viewers into one of his cooking classes (amongst many other things). What he does with the food, how he talks about bread, vegetables, kitchen tools, all of it is inspiring and new to me. I do not know much about religion, much less about Eastern religions like Buddhism, but he speaks a great deal about being in the moment, about really chopping carrots when you are chopping carrots. All of this for him reminds him to respect the food he eats. I tried this in the kitchen tonight--tried to let the kids get involved a little more instead of just rushing through the dinner preparations, I am not so good at it yet, but I am going to keep plugging away...

Autumn Days: 9

I posted earlier this week about the green tomatoes that this fall season in the northwest yielded. Here is the last of them--fried up this week with eggs, flour, salt, and oil. Yum--very little left of the green tomatoes, but very yummy nonetheless.

Rocking

I had a moment with Harvey this evening, a nice one, a really beautiful one. It was bedtime, and these moments with Harvey do not generally fall into the category of "nice." As usual, upon my pronouncing "nigh-nigh time," he threw his head back in protest flinging his whole body vertical with the floor. Experience has taught me to hold my arm out to catch him mid-fling. This was a particularly powerful fling and the yells that followed were also on the louder end of average. I persisted in my goal though to get one child in bed, knowing that my quiet time or, in tonight's case, my time to watch the election coverage, would soon follow. He protested all the way to the rocking chair and then quieted almost immediately when I sat down and began to rock. And then he nestled in, and the rocking chair which needs oiling badly, creaked and rocked and creaked and rocked, his breathing settled and so did mine. And then, strange as it sounds, I felt like a fifty something (or sixty something) year old me was in the room watching us. Breathing in and out with me. Feeling the softness of this (our) baby's skin. Standing there with warmth and coolness with longing and with love. Right there in the room with me and Harvey and the rocking.

Sustainable Living

I attended a workshop on "sustainable" living on a budget this evening in Portland. Not sure what I thought it would entail exactly but I knew I would be interested in it. And I was. The workshop host covered a wide variety of topics--how to eliminate plastics in your kitchen, how and why to grind your own grains (and even how to make your own flour), why to avoid major box stores and chains (Starbucks, in particular, OUCH! hmmm.... I prefer to stay blissfully ignorant on that one), how to avoid packaging by buying bulk, etc... Much of it I was already familiar with--Nina Plank's book Real Food opened my eyes wide to these issues a year ago. But some of it was unfamiliar and some of it just needed to be reinforced in my brain.
I am still very new to this anti-consumerist world. After all, I was raised in Texas where my entire weekend entertainment consisted of consuming. We could hit three or four malls in a weekend and still have more to buy. And, I get some comfort (albeit short term) in retail therapy. So, I am trying to take things pretty gradually--so gradually that I will never get to that last item on the list--kicking my Starbucks habit. In all seriousness though, there are some things that I want to change (and need to change) like purifying our home, eliminating plastics, gardening, composting, etc.. and there are some things that I just do not want to change. Clothes, for instance. I love beautiful clothes and I get a tremendous amount of joy out of wearing them (of course, most of my life is lived in sweats these days, but STILL). And really, I am ok with this Brian, too, will never take public transportation. One of those things that won't change. We are on this journey together though, finding our way, fumbling around, deciding on what is right for us.

Green Tomatoes

When we moved to Portland in July, I put a couple of tomato plants in the ground--one that I bought at Whole Foods and another fledgling one given to me by some generous gardeners at a fair in July. In New Jersey where tomatoes ripen in August, these plants would have had to be in the ground before July. Not here though. I was told by a butcher that tomato season can extend even into November if the weather is ripe. Well... I have been waiting and waiting and waiting for these little fruits to redden and, sadly, I just don't think it is going to happen this year. So, what to do now?
I was listening The Splendid Table last night and got some ideas that did not involve frying them (although I am not at all opposed to fried green tomatoes--might even make some this week). At the market, I bought some riccotta cheese, mixed that up with some browned onions and garlic, added the tomatoes, and squeezed some lemon over the whole thing. The end result was not the extravaganza that I was hoping for, but it was a nice, light post-summery dish. Something I may make again.

Weekly Rhythm

I have been trying to bring some order into our rather disorderly lives as of late. Laundry piles, daily runs to the grocery store, uneaten food in the refirgerator, unfiled paperwork. I am not naturally an organized nor orderly person. In fact, I rather thrive in chaos and last-minuteness. My best college papers were always written just hours before they were due--papers that were started in advance were usually chucked at the last minute for much more inspired writing. However, being at home with two toddlers has made me appreciate a more predictable, orderly existence. Consequently, I have gradually been introducing some more structure to my week (not simply to their days) so that I can ensure that all things get done that need to be done, and if they don't get done, at least I am aware of it. I started with a couple of laundry days per week, then I added a paperwork day, and a cleaning day... As crazy as all of this sounds, I really love knowing what I need to do in a particular day and, at the end of the day, i sit down with a real sense of satisfaction, instead of feeling listless and confused. Well, just not completely listless and confused... I mean I still look for my keys and my phone at least four or five times a day. Some things will never change.

Autumn Days: 8

Brian, Brodie, the kids and I went on a hike near Mount Hood along Salmon River last weekend. We made the slightly over an hour drive in the hopes of catching the last of the salmon swimming upriver. We missed the salmon but we got some spectacular views. It was as if the forest was raining oranges, reds and yellows. This just-fallen leaf landed in the river. It sparkled and shone, just submerged in fresh water. Pretty pretty pretty.

Thirty-Something

Happy Birthday, my love. Happy Birthday.

Corner of My Home

There is a flickr devoted to pictures of cozy spaces in homes around the world. Given the domestic feelings I am having right now, I am fascinated and inspired by the Corners of My Home pictures. One of my favorite spots in my own home right now is the new shelf (new to us, purchased at an antique store last weekend) housing my knitting supplies in the office. It was originally intended for Norah's room, but I found it just too irresistible...

Baking Bread

I used to bake bread as a child with my dad's mother while visiting California. We got to customize our bread with chocolate chips or raisins or really whatever we wanted. My brother and I would make mini-loafs while my grandmother baked loaves of white bread for she and my grandfather. I do not think she ever ever had store-bought bread in the house.

I have been re-introduced to the wonders of bread making through the book Feeding the Whole Family by Cynthia Lair. My brother also has some experience with it so he has helped me along a bit. I don't know why it has just occurred to me to try baking our bread--I LOVE bread, love it more than any other food and a piece of warm bread just out of the oven could make my whole week. I made the recipe for Whole Grain Bread out of Lair's book a couple of weeks ago and it came out tasting more like a brick then it did bread. I decided to give that same recipe another shot this week. I need to make a couple of changes but, overall, not too bad.

AND our whole house smells like fresh baked bread. What a way to fall asleep...

Nesting

Instead of writing about my horrific week, I am going to try to refocus on what is making me happy in this moment. Home. Domesticity. Cool outside and warm inside. Slippers. Snoring Stormy. Winter knits. Gerda Muller's Autumn.

Over the past few weeks, I have put a lot of thought into our home--not jut what should go where nor just what needs to be cleaned and how--but real thought into making this temporary home of our a very cozy, very warm, very comfortable place to be. The house itself is a cozy one already. There is a cast iron stove in the living room which generates a good amount of heat and the living room walls are painted warm colors. I even made N and H a pair of cozy slippers to wear around our cozy, warm house. Sadly, Norah won't give them a second look, and they don't have any tread on them so Harvey can not remain upright for over five minutes on our all hardwood floors. These were a definite miss. At least they look sweet in the wicker basket next to the cast iron stove...

In keeping with the domestic theme of life lately, I have fallen in love with the book A House Blessing by Welleran Poltarnees. I found it in the used children's books section at a local bookstore and passed over it initially for fear of what might be inside of it. But then I gave it a chance. It's filled with vintage pictures of domestic life and the words that accompany those pictures give life to exactly what I have been trying to capture in our own house here in this strange, foreign land. "May the strength of its walls make you safe, keeping peace within and trouble without; but through its open windows and doors let nature come." I think my heart beats just a little softer every time I read it.

Autumn Days: 7

Although the past couple of days have been beautiful here in Portland, we have begun to see little hints of what the winter has in store for us in the Pacific Northwest. I don't like downpours (unless they are accompanied by loud Texas thunder and lightning), but I don't mind drizzly, chilly, greyness. I may even like drizzly, chilly greyness. I'll let you know in February...

October Hiking

Over the weekend Brodie discovered yet another beautiful hike within city limits so we headed off with the kids this afternoon to enjoy the brisk yet sunny weather in the forest in our city. Enjoy it we did. We started off at a bird rescue sanctuary and then headed down the valley on the Macleay Trail. There was was something very etherial about the trail at this time of year--bright yellows and oranges hung suspended in the clear, pale blue sky, and water babbled through the rocks to our right--the only earthly sound came from the leaves crunching underneath our feet. Brodie felt like he was walking through a scene in Return of the Jedi and I just felt breatheless--from the uphill hiking with a kid on my back. October hiking in Portland--how things have changed from one year ago.

Autumn Days: 6

I have been trying to post more regularly these days. Something really nice about ending my day with some pictures and some words. Today more pictures than words.

Autumn Days: 5

Red and orange in the air. Lovely.

At Home with the Kids

It is very rare in my life that I make a choice that I am not conflicted about in some way or another. I was conflicted about being a Teach for America corps member, about being a teacher, about working for a for-profit educational company, about working for Teach for America, and now about the choice to stay at home. Except this time it is different. I love almost everything about what I do except what it is called and what it means in a broader social context.

A couple of experiences I have had recently have fueled this feeling and even inspired some self-doubt. For one, Norah's pediatrician whose opinion I respect thinks that it is almost unnatural for children to be at home with their mothers at all times. He looks to traditional societies for answers to many parenting questions--toddlers of hunters and gatherers stayed in large groups with other children while their mothers gathered food for the tribe. Additionally, according to Dr. Joel, Norah and Harvey need to see me pursuing other interests outside of them. Hmmmm..... I have also overheard pretty disparaging remarks lately about mothers who choose to stay home with their children.

Rationally, I can work through the conflicts by telling myself, for instance, that offspring of hunters and gatherers likely stayed with aunts or grandmothers. Or that I do pursue other interests--I read, write, craft, take time to myself while family members are with the kids. I can turn around the insulting remarks and ask, to myself, what is it about one's own life choices that makes one utter such statements?

Most of my moments are filled with a confidence that I ultimately know what is best for me, for my kids, and for my family in general. Despite what doctors might say, I know that my daughter needs to be at home with me right now rather than in a school, if even for one day a week. I also know that I could never match the feeling of deep satisfaction i feel after a day's "work" with a job, no matter how meaningful that work might be. And I say all of this with an appreciation and respect for other mothers (and fathers) whose choices are different than my own.

So, in the context of my own home and within my own close circle of family and friends, I warmly embrace my station in life, my choice to be with my kids. I know that there are some trade-offs and I have to work to compensate for those things--my kids do need to spend time around other children in playgroups, for example, and I need to ensure that they have a happy, healthy, well-rounded female role model. I am working hard to make up our losses here, Now I need to work harder on taking one or two brave steps outside of my circle, outside of my home and into the world with a little more confidence about my life choices. Make sense?

Tree Climbin'

With some help from their Nonna, the kiddos discovered a tree at our favorite afternoon spot, Mount Tabor, a few visits ago. They are now stuck to it like glue each time we go to the park. With the recent trips to the ER, the climbing leaves me with a distinct sense of unease, but I fight it, and let them romp and run and climb. This particular tree reminds me of Shell Silverstein's. His base is large and round and seems to be made for small children. His trunk offers a couple places to sit, a nice area to rest your back, and even a slot for a cup or small bowl. I could nestle in there with my knitting and rest for hours if it weren't for the fear of impending disaster looming in Harvey's future. But, I should know better, this old tree is watching over him, keeping him safe, and softening up her rough parts for those unavoidable boy falls that he is surely going to take.

Autumn Days: 4

Berries everywhere!

A Sprightly Kind of Play

My favorite place to take the kids in the afternoon is the top of Mount Tabor-- a park on the east end of town. It is a short uphill walk from the parking area to the green space where we plant ourselves for a couple of hours at a time. There is nothing particularly spectacular about the spot (although there is statue of a bronze Harvey)--the views are pretty but not breathtaking--but there is some kind of magic up there. I am sure of it. The worlds that Norah imagines on top of this mountain leave me with no words. She is pictured here with two leaves--birds for her. Her birds flew and ate and danced and flew some more with Harvey in tow all the while. A true wonder to behold. If only my own imagination was still that alive...

Autumn Days: 3

The colors are so vivid right now. Spectacular.

Autumn Days: 2

I was taking a walk with Norah and Stormy a couple of afternoons ago and came across an apple tree in full bloom--fruit dropping off of it and everything. In some weird way, it seemed hysterical to me that there was an apple tree with apples on it growing in a neighbor's backyard. It was as if I was walking around in some cliched postmodern world. Brian described a similar feeling last Saturday at the farmer's market--he said that it was as if people were enjoying the event not for the sake of the event but rather for their presence at the event. Too much self-awareness and not enough authenticity. Gosh, it is late and I don't know where I am going here. In any case, this apple is pretty.

Making Play Dough!

A good friend of mine reminded me of the wonders of play dough and children this morning (honestly, the only real memory I have of the stuff outside from making spaghetti with a plastic contraption is eating it, and eating a lot of it, but that is another tory...). So, with an empty afternoon on our hands, we headed to the store for our ingredients and then embarked on our mission.

I found the recipe for homemade play dough here. The whole process took less than 30 minutes, and, as it turned out, the making of it was more fun than the playing with it. Harvey spent most of his time throwing the final product on the floor and Norah spent her time shrieking with frustration at Harvey for throwing it on the floor. Ahhhh... all in a day's work.

Autumn Days: 1

I have spent some time outdoors in the past few days trying to capture the turning of the seasons with my camera. Stormy, Norah, and I take pretty regular evening walks and evidence of Autumn is literally all around us. Amanda Soule's Days of Summer has inspired me to post 30 days in pictures of this enrapturing season.

September Crafting

We are getting ready for colder weather and, with that, the holidays around these parts. September was a rather productive month for me in this department. I have been more comfortable recently with working on projects while I am with the kids these days, rather than just burning the midnight oil on them. In fact, I have discovered that there is something really nice about making things with my hands while my kids are around. Something simple and calm both for me and for them.

One fruit of my labor is this felt colored pencil holder, a project from The Creative Family. I made it out of 100% wool felt which was really nice to work with. For the outside, I simply sewed some pretty buttons on randomly and the inside simply consists of 15 or so little slots for our colored pencils.

























I also made these tiny slippers for old Hoiyo so that his tootsies can stay warm when he is around the house. The poor baby gets the coldest bluest feet so problem solved, hopefully. I am particulary impressed with these because they are made out of felted sweater wool and scraps of old yarn. No purchases required. I feel like a regular homesteader.

Harvey and the Elements

Earth, Wind, Fire and Water





















In more ways than any picture can express, Harvey is always reminding me of how connected we are to the earth around us.

Creative Play

I have been doing a lot of thinking lately about the importance of creative play in early childhood and about how best to foster it within our days. Ironically, I probably do not have to think about this at all--it is likely that my own mother did not and I spent endless hours as a child immersed in worlds I dreamed up on my own. During long car trips, I would fly one or both of my hands out of the window, picking up various passengers on my fingers. Those passengers would occasionally have to double up on the fingers if things were cramped; sometimes they would get angry (and even physical!) with one another. I played with Fisher Price Little People long after my peers put away their toys for other modes of entertainment. I held on to this creative play until well into my junior high years. While I finally put away my Little People (I can still clearly remember the last time I played with them), I continued to play out imaginary scenarios involving dreamed up characters for a long time afterward.
Norah has been playing creatively for quite some time now. She sings to her dolls, talks to them and reads to them; she has just recently though been adopting characters. "You be the doctor," she will say or "I am the grandma." I have to say that I do not think there is much that gives me more satisfaction as a mother--not Norah eating her broccoli or Harvey starting to talk. I simply love hearing my child invent worlds right before me.
As a consumer, I am tempted to buy her "instruments" (costumes, for example) to foster this kind of thinking. As a thinking person, I know that I do not need to make purchases in order to nurture my daughter in this way. In fact, the very act of purchasing items for creative play is somewhat antithetical to the concept and could even hinder the play. So, I have been looking around our house for everyday items that Norah (and Harvey soon!) that Norah can play with and today I started gathering some clothes for a dress-up basket that will have its home downstairs amongst the other toys.

P.S. I may still have to buy her this. I know, I can't help myself.

Baby Carriers

It seems that we have more reasons to have our children on our backs since we have moved to Portland. In fact, we even purchased yet another carrier, the Kelty on Craigslist in the past month. I am a pretty big fan of the Kelty; I like its sturdy framework. My brother and Brian find it cumbersome, though, and both of them prefer the Mei Tai (recommended to us by Suzanne) which we purchased last year when I realized that my back could not withstand another day with a child attached to me in the Baby Bjorn. Norah, at nearly three years old, still goes in the Mei Tai (and loves it) for short shopping trips and hikes that are too steep or lengthy for her to tolerate. There is something nice about the feeling of my children's breathe on my back and their soft cheeks resting on the back of my neck. Someday they will be too big to ride with me, and for Norah, that day is coming all too soon.