Drab Farm Faces

Recently, I brought everyone to a farm to pick whatever was growing.  The faces below reveal their glee.  

We have made this visit to Berry Patch Farms a number of years in a row now.  The farm is amazing.  This trip, however, my crowd showed no giddy excitement from plucking raspberries straight from the bush.  Instead,

• They got out there;
• They filled their green containers;
• They stared at fat pigs;
• They observed screaming toddlers;
• They checked out cats;
• They watched chickens fight;
• John predictably snuck half his harvest into his mouth;
• June and Clara deliberated for about 30 minutes over 5 flower stems;
• Will sat on a peaceful bench.

But, no one went overboard with enthusiasm.  Maybe they had some good sibling bonding, moaning about their mom dragging them there instead of the International Pancake House.  

Sometimes you hit the happy mark, sometimes you don't.  Even at a farm.  I guess I'll see what happens next year.  Maybe I'll bring Jeff and we'll take a smiling selfie.  

Still, no one can deny that they were good strawberries!

Attending to Tudio

John has an imaginary friend.  (Pictured above.)  I love him.  His name is Tudio.

Tudio gets lots of attention.  (Who wouldn't with a name like "Tudio.")  For example, Tudio needs his own car seat.  He gets a special bed on the floor, sleepover style.  Tudio sometimes needs his own chair at a restaurant.  Tudio sets fashion trends and passes along recommendations.  Tudio travels far and wide.  Tudio happens like pancakes and chocolate milk.  He needs his own plate and cup, and always empties them both.  Tudio really likes vitamins.

Coddling Tudio is a slippery slope.  It's hard not to, but he appears at opportune moments.  Busy moments.  Moments when some people aren't getting much attention.  Or moments when food is involved.

All in all, Tudio is sort of a fifth child.  I rejoice that he exists, and he really tests my limits.

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.

Service: Sterabithia Trash

We have a place in town where we go to pick up trash, maybe once every season.  Long ago, after reading the book "The Bridge to Terabithia," someone in our crowd named the spot "Sterabithia."   So, that stuck. 

The creekbed sometimes has water, but in the colder months it does not.  We've found the most surprising things:  a scooter, a grocery cart, lawn chairs, a table, tons of kitty litter, a broken tricycle, a whole mattress foam, clothes, and endless food trash.  It makes for satisfying work, a real sense of progress, although we have to remember that it's kind of disappointing really.

I've learned that the trick to making the trash pick-up happen is to keep a box of trash bags (along with the kitchen sink) in our car.  Then when we happen to be in the neighborhood, we're fully equipped and ready.  There or anywhere.  And everyone does enjoy themselves.  After all, we're just outside playing in a ditch.  But, I it does helps that the older ones now get school credit for their service work.  

And sad but true, until I put the box of bags in the car, we never had enough trash bags to hold all that we find. 

The No-Hit Necklace

This morning, John directed my attention to his necklace:  "When I want to hit people, I can hold my necklace and it makes me calm.  It takes my hit away."

By habit, I was initially tempted to address John's all-too-present desire to hit.  But actually, if I'm honest enough to own it, I could use a calming necklace here and there myself.

We talk about "taking the hurt away," but why not gently take "the hit" away, too?  It's sort of the other side of the coin...

So, I am refreshed by John's honesty, and I have renewed affection for necklaces.

Cooking: Crepe Cake

Here and there I begin a non-sensical project at 11 pm.  I know I'm not alone in that particular insanity.  (Can't speak for other insanities...)  Years ago in North Carolina, it was my friend Edna's "fruit" (also known as cake mix) pie.  Now, for Will's 6th grade class mind you, I am making a Chocolate Hazelnut Crepe Cake.  What happened?!?

Well, the recipe is so advanced, I had to take breaks from cooking and go bang on the piano every 10 minutes.  My brain can't wrap around browning butter AND creaming custard AND skinning hazelnuts AND pouring a perfect crepe AND melting chocolate with a double boiler.

The recipe is from Deb Perelman, in "The Smitten Kitchen Cookbook."  (Thank you, Jenny!)  Her book is beautiful.  Her photos are etherial.  A stark contrast to my honest kitchen, adorned with chicken scraps, homework, art supplies, broken eye glasses, food-stained bills, dead plants and more.  Really, I shouldn't have Perelman's photos it sitting around at all.  It's like a diamond in the rough.  Will spotted it and was probably so taken by the novelty of clutterless kitchen scenes that, unbeknownst to me, he submitted this recipe to the school fundraiser cookbook and committed to a taste test the following day.  Where is this boy's sense?  I pushed back, but only bought myself a couple of days.

But now, even as I'm tired, and not exactly the picture of a joyous cook, gratitude still rises to the surface.  I'm grateful for having this boy.  Grateful to mix some love into his hazelnut pudding. And grateful he likes Chocolate Hazelnut Crepe Cakes.  I guess.  Though Edna's cake mix pie would be much simpler, and probably a bigger hit.

Making Things: Pom Pom Curtains

Recently, I sewed some pom pom trim onto my girls' cheap white curtains.  I did it by hand.  Stitch by stitch.

It seems like a slightly frivolous use of my time, attaching pink pom poms.  Just the title to this post makes me feel a little trivial.  And the endeavor was not even all that creative.  I connected things.  I didn't make anything up.  And the lives surrounding these pom poms are busy.  I can barely feed everyone, let alone sew them pom pom curtains!

Still, it gives me such a sense of satisfaction to have "girls' curtains" on my to do list.  And holding a needle and thread can make me feel right with the world.

So now that the pom poms are done, I am ready to put something new on my list.  Something equally... small.

Maybe I'll try ric rac.