Holding Hands Part I: In Leaves

We have enjoyed a leaf pile in our backyard for quite some time now.  In fact, the grass underneath is surely dead.  A small price to pay.

The other day, the girls hid there from a friend who was coming over in, oh about an hour.  They laid peacefully and held hands.  

These two do fight, quite fiercely at times.  But in that pile of earthiness, they subconsciously connected their little fingers together for more than just a minute.  I do not cling to it as a state of their union.  But, it was a sacred time out of time moment, and one that was good.

Perseverance and a Plant

June is learning the power of perseverance.

In April, during our annual "seed soup" party, June started six or eight Nasturtium seeds.  Starting seeds with the kids is not something I do with precision.  The basil seeds mix with the tomato, which mix with the nasturtium, which mix with the lavender.  I don't even bother labeling.  It's one big guessing game as the shoots peek up through the dirt.

Later in May, however, one recognizable nasturtium plant grew big enough to transfer to a pot.  June adopted it and watered it all summer, on the irregular care-taking schedule of an 8-year-old.

Finally, 6 months later, she got a single yellow flower!  It brought her immense joy.

Fall Ride

When John and June and I hike, it's hard not to narrate a bit.  I tend to point out a tree or a bird or a flower.  With the older ones, however, I have the sense to keep quiet.  They don't need narration.  They need the opposite from me.  

But what a lucky half hour I had, to ride with them in silence through yellow aspens and showering fall leaves.

I could tell that Will caught the reverence, but he didn't say much.  Clara, on the other hand, actually made me stop:  "Mom, you've got to turn around."  I'd almost missed the view.

Fall Road Trip

I recognize that my longtime fascination with road trips may be a manifestation of attention deficit disorder.  After a quick trip to the mountains with June, I see that I'm right on track to pass that along to my kids.  Here is what we crammed into 24 hours:

• 6 hour drive, each way
• 10+ stops to gaze at fall leaves
• 4+ stops for photoshoots
• 3 stops for little hikes
• 1 lunch stop in Leadville
• 1 stop to watch a local parade
• 1 stop to get some school clothes
• 2 stops to read

At our destination, our pace was equally phrenetic: hiking, biking, running, eating, leaf boat racing, bookstore-ing, cafe-ing.  For the love of roadtrips, I don't think I'd trade the ADD.  The real conflict is  pollution.  We need a hybrid.

But, I do find that there are few better ways to connect with your loved one that cruising the world together.  Being present.  Taking it all in, side by side.  Or in our case, front seat - back seat.

Spring Sounds: Peepers

Some time in May, the kids and I took a neighborhood walk.  We turned a corner and were struck by a sound.  

Honestly, there are so many sounds in our world right now.  I get so overwhelmed.  We are not particularly good at talking one at a time.  Many are in the habit of just making non-sense sounds: clicks, snaps, whistles, drumming, balls, rhythms, taps, shouts, calls, 1/2 songs, laughs, beats, beeps.  As I type, and Will reads quietly beside me, we both listen to our groaning dog (he's joined the party) and our too-high-to-reach smoke alarm that has been beeping, well, over a year!  We don't actually hear it any more.

But, on that walk, I sure did hear the frogs - "the spring peepers."  It seems like a miracle that on one day, they just wake up and sing.  We received their call, and felt grateful.  For spring, for taking a walk, for a sound that had been hiding away so long.  And I was grateful we all noticed.

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.

Cranberries on Cedar

Today, amidst the cold and snow, Clara and I laid a bright red strand of cranberries on my favorite cedar tree.  Brave, bold colors await a brave, cold chickadee.

Just a few feet away, our warm home feels like a messy blur of color and tone.  Yet, we have our own clear contrasts: little joys and little sorrows, affection and anger, late night quiet and mid-day screams, cuddles and kicks, vegetables and sugars, sweet costumes and temper-inducing socks, dreams and worries, fears and hopes.

I remain inspired by the red on green and white.  Its beauty, its contrasts, and the clarity it inspires.  A nice vision for the new year.

First Snow

In the midst of unseasonably dry and warm weather, I am thinking longingly back to our first snow of the season.  Remembering the snowman and snow angels here is my blog form of a rain dance.

A Sign of Spring

Signs of spring are appearing:  birds, bulbs, mud on trails.  My favorite so far is a product of children on the trampoline, rather than ice.  John's hair feathers out just like a dandelion.

Little a Long Way

Over the weekend, most of it spent at home, a little snowshoe hike went a long way.  I was thankful for the day, the dog and kids old enough to make it beyond 20 feet.

Unconventional Snow Play

Despite all the recent snow in Boulder,  there were no smiling snow people in our yard, or homemade hills for sledding.  Instead, mysterious "balloon babies" scattered around.  (Don't they oddly look like sky and clouds?)  These water balloons spent time under shirts before resting in the snow to see how they fared.  One burst and made a beautiful belly bowl shape.  Others refused to freeze.  Others never quite made it outside...

Another favorite game was called "rearrange snow."  John shoveled snow into his baby wagon and carted it from one side of the yard to the other.  

Eventually, John recognized the futility of his efforts.  He redirected to a snow-fire truck game, which involved burying, tunneling, and loud sounds.  

Then everyone played abandon your toys in the snow.