Beauty: Pre-Spring Flowers

In good "Portlandia" fashion, I spend brainspace thinking about the pros and cons of buying cut flowers.  Here's how it goes:

• Isn't having tulips in your house in the winter kind of like buying blueberries from Chile in December?
• Were the flowers grown organically?
• How far did they travel?
• Shouldn't I forage some artistic looking sticks or cattails or pine cones instead?
• Shouldn't we spend our money elsewhere?

I do have a ritual of planting Narcissus bulbs before the holidays, which are beautiful for weeks.  Then they sit in our house for many more weeks in the form of the lump pictured above because I can't toss the green.  Jeff loves them.

In the end, I broke down and just bought some flowers already!  I opted for the sweet, delicate cheap variety:  daisies and things that keep well when they dry, though I avoided the non-native "baby's breath" that we once saw rangers furiously trying to clear around Lake Michigan one summer.

I must say that the dose of color and smell and sense of life are doing the trick.  And they are a reminder of the bounty to come.  Right outside the door.

Parent & Chicken Line-up

Recently, on a wintry day, I was struck by horizontal rows of beings, out enduring the cold.  

As our family ventured out to go sledding, there was a perfect line-up of parents right on the crest of the hill.  It was a beautiful spot, with the trees forming their own line as a backdrop.  Some people were all decked out for adventure, some held coffee cups, and all were engrossed in the action going down.  

Bundled up there in a row, the cold parents reminded me of our chickens, who likewise form a line-up, usually in the the sun against the house.  1-2-3-4-5-6.  Catching rays, pecking around.  

I guess there is something about standing side-by-side, facing the cold, eating or drinking, and watching the show.

Phases: What's In

I always find it interesting, even helpful, to take a snapshot of our present lives in the form of "what's in."  What holds our attention and our affection? Subsequently, what doesn't?  What we are drawn to? Where we are stuck?  What captures each person's attention is rarely a big ticket item.  Our attachments really seem to be reflections of ourselves, and are generally pretty simple.  So here is what's in today:

John seems to feel most himself when wearing this bell.


June just loves her chicken.  Always.


Clara recently acquired a new swim cap and most people in her world know all about it.

If anyone touches Will's egg shakers, he turns into a wild animal.

I cannot do without my little blue book.

And Jeff loves his new dustbuster.

Saying Hi. And I love you.

John made a pronouncement the other day:  "Now I'm only going to say 'hi' to the people I know."

For a while, John felt that it was his prerogative to say "hello" to every person he encountered.  These little determinations and conclusions must be exhausting for a 4-year old.  I remember Will in kindergarten had that same inclination when saying "goodbye" as he left school.  He shouted it out to everyone he slightly recognized, up to 500 yards away.  It prompted the old parental dilemma: do I just admire as he puts himself out there and other kids stare blankly back, or do I use it as a teaching moment to describe some inexplicable "code of behavior."

With my fourth child, my inclination is just to let him learn on his own and give him some positive karma, pick him up and hug him and think (though not say) how lucky those people are to be beneficiaries of his open his heart.

In that vein, I generally hope I get better as a parent at giving that love vibe more and talking less.  It is probably appropriate for me, too, to hold back from screaming across the field to my now 11-year old,  "Hi honey!  How was your day? I love you! I just think you are a shining star!"

Honestly, we're all probably right there with John: what's the code?

Valentine's Day

There was a lot of red and pink in our household these past few days.  Purple, too.  On the heels of Christmas, I always look forward to Valentine's Day.  I think, "Oh, I've got plenty of time to get organized for that holiday."  As I drive from activity to activity, I dream up projects and compose beautiful cards to my husband, my kids, loved ones, people I barely know...

I didn't actually get pen to paper for my Valentines, but the kids sure enjoyed some frenzied creativity during sub-zero temperatures.  We produced quite a bit, even as some of our ambitions remain undone.  Here's what we made:

• We sent Christmas thank you notes with Valentine hearts enclosed.
• We decorated lingering white Christmas lights with deep red.
• We sent packages to grandmothers that held everything but the kitchen sink.
• June personalized watercolor hearts with her growing vocabulary of adjectives.
• John practiced drawing stick figures on hearts.
• Clara and I sewed some paper bird and heart hangings.
• Pink and white paper around the house became confetti.
• Clara filled little bottles with lavender that we harvested from our yard in, oh 2008.
• Finally, Clara invited friends over to make a flag for the senior center nearby.  Despite our most noble effort, however, we didn't manage to deliver it until after Valentine's Day...

Anyway, here is some evidence of the mayhem:

My Little Vow: Coffee Cups

This past summer, I had the good fortune of going snorkeling with my kids.  It was a scene of mystical perfection, to watch with underwater altered senses as 3/4 of them dove down in slow motion, amidst such color and beauty, flipping and exploring and being amazed.

After our exploration, Clara and I took the long way back and swam parallel to the shore for a while.  Then, on the heels of my snorkeling reverie, I spotted a paper coffee cup and lid on the ocean floor.  In Mo Willems' "Knuffle Bunny, Too" fashion, when Trixie spots a duplicate Knuffle Bunny, our focus zeroed in on that cup like a telephoto zoom lens.  A coffee cup in the coral reefs!?!?!

I practically burst my eardrums diving down to retrieve the cup, but we walked away with it, along with a personal commitment: no more "disposable" coffee cups.  It's a single drop in the ocean, but it's something.

Photo Shoot: Railroad Ties

Recently, I came across some railroad ties.  I love the order they impose on a beautiful mess of leaves or rocks or grass.  One of these shots is from a hike on the edge of Boulder.  Another is at the Denver zoo.  It's both easy and scary to imagine kids on them.  The ties do call out like a playground.  But alone, they look quiet and dreamy and suggestive of some place far away.