goods and heroes

first::lost

looming, part two

I posted back in February about a group of us making a loom out of buckthorn. Well, we made the loom and just as we were tying the last few knots, the rain started coming down in buckets and big flashes of lightening were tearing through the sky.  You might already know this about me, but I am really terrific at starting things and then . . . and then never finishing them. It's a lousy "skill" to possess and it always manages to have guilt skulking around in the back of my psyche. (Un-sent pitch letters, countless book ideas, the tart that has never been made, the teddy bear that is still just pieces of flat fabric, I could go on but let's not get too much on a bummer here.) I really thought that maybe the loom was going to fall into that pile and I would never be able to return to the nature center without feeling, well, like I'd dropped the ball on yet another creative project. But good old Sean followed through on the follow up and even though it took almost two months to get back to it, get back to it we did.

The loom was there, a bit loose in the soil so we pounded back into place, tightened things up here and there. And then we were ready to put the loom to the test and see about making a mat of natural materials.

First we went and cut some sort of eulalia (a tall, blonde-colored grass), Milkweed and Rattlesnake Master from the area in from of the nature center. It was nice to be clipping back the plants and catching up and laughing in a relaxed but purposeful kind of way.  (And I love any project that involves making piles. I think that's the control/compulsive part of me. I even make neat little piles of green beans when I am trimming them. I do. Cringe.)

Then we hauled our clippings around to the loom and began putting the plant material in.

At first we weren't moving the um, is it called a shuttle? left and right, we were just placing the plants over and under the string. It still worked but it wasn't as tight. So we problem solved collectively, with humor and a sort of unspoken acceptance that it didn't need to be this perfect, precious thing we were making. And then when we did also move left and right, it worked better. Made a tighter, neater row.

Alternating the light plants and the dark plants made it visually a little more interesting. I could definitely see adding even more types of plants and even fabric or old ribbon.

And in about 45 minutes, while we talked about food and the summer and work and those sorts of things, we were done. We had made a mat. Sean tied it off and modeled our creation.

We did it! Together. It wasn't perfect and it was pretty big. We waffled on whether to trim the shaggy edges to make it look neater but we decided to just leave as it is. Immediately we started brainstorming on what you could use this sort of thing for--a roof for a temporary shelter or lean-to, as walls for an outdoor room or changing area, as a screen or a fence of sorts, or in our case, simply as a wall-hanging.  It was a very satisfying group process. Even though we were chatting and laughing, we did have to communicate what we were doing and why, we had to share the different tasks and like I said, we had to problem solve. Plus, we took plant material that would have been but back and mulched (or in some instances burned) and we made something out of it.

I will definitely be doing a version of this in the Lurie next March when all the plants get cut back. Even if we just do it as a staff feel-good project, but I think it would be great to do as a family workshop. And maybe in late summer we can do one up in Michigan with all the plants that grow crazy big in the meadow . . .  right over by the gnome hut/fairy house we made back in March. Hmmm, making things together with natural materials seems to hold some sort of simple magic for me and my family and many of my friends. Wonder what the next project will be and who it will be with? I suppose part of the magic is not really knowing. 

neighbors, worms and Rilke

It's late but I just want to tell you how much I am loving and appreciating our neighbors who live two buildings down. They have two boys and they have a lovely side yard and well, we don't--I mean, we don't have the lovely side yard . . . and in this way they have saved us many a time when we were not quite sure what to do with ourselves. Even in the dead of winter when we really were bouncing off the walls they invited us to slide down their super kid-friendly sled run and make an igloo and just be in the snow. Friday afternoon, when it was so insanely Spring-like and we needed to be outside, they opened up their yard to all of us to just be there and hang out.

After a bit of time, Quin and Sam were literally laying on their bellies, collecting worms from the compost bin.  And putting worms on their arms, watching them crawl . . . Sam asking, "Can we take some home, Mom? Can we? They are so cool!"

And Ben was jumping up and down, just tickled and sort of alarmed in a happy way.

It reminded me of this excerpt from a poem by Rainer Maria Rilke.

"If you will cling to nature, to the simple in nature, to the little things that hardly anyone sees, and that can so unexpectedly become big and beyond measuring; if you have this love of inconsiderable things and seek quite simply, as one who serves, to win the confidence of what seems poor: then everything will become easier, more coherent and somehow more conciliatory for you, not in your intellect, perhaps, which lags marveling behind, but in your inmost consciousness, waking and cognizance."

Yes, yes and yes.

eggs

I am thrilled to report that we had a gorgeous Easter weekend. It was kind of quiet and relatively simple but happily shared with friends up in Michigan. And yes, that meant more rambles in the woods, lazing on the grass, a happy clan of children just tumbling in with each other, good conversation . . . and it also meant eggs.

A big mess of eggs for boiling. I am in love with the retro graphics of this packaging. I bought the eggs up at the Hardings grocery store in Coloma and I am such a dork, I saved the box and brought it home.

And then the eggs needed to be dyed, which is such a satisfying communal creative thing to do. Next year we definitely need to buy twice as many eggs, seeing how the adults in our group wanted to dye just as many (um, if not more) as the kids. We were a very hodge-podge group doing the egg dyeing (and later filling the plastic eggs with candy) and let's just say we have bastardized the holiday of Easter in the very best way to be inclusive to anyone that likes kids, art, spring, ritual without religious overtones, the element of surprise and chocolate. Oh yes, and eggs.

And so, very very early Easter morning, the "Easter Bunny" (who just days prior was leading our family in a Seinfeld-esque Passover Seder) got up at dawn and hid eggs all around Grandma's garden. And several hours later, the sun blazing but still with a good chill in the air (hats were required and noses were running just a wee bit) the thrill of the hunt began. Sam and Jarek were all about quantity, Estelle was all about patience and exploring, Ben found five and then went to play with a truck down by the barn and Ruby was wrapped in a sling staying cozy, slightly oblivious to the hunt.

We finished off the egg-centric weekend with an early supper.  Sarah decorated the table with pussy willows, daffodils and wisteria from down by the creek as well as moss and bark and of course, our hard boiled eggs. (This nature-based magic made with complete ease and in about the time it takes me to chop an onion.) The table, as you can imagine, was gorgeous, the salmon and the waxed beans with fennel and bacon were spot on. But just so you know that things aren't all pussy willows and moss and fennel--we also had Ben frisbeeing his plate on the floor the minute it was served to him ("hot dog!" is what I think he screamed in protest over the pork roast and green and yellow beans on his wee plate). 

And at some point Sam and Sophie were both crying and tug-o-warring over a diminutive wooden chair they both insisted they just had to sit on. (I think this was just as the food was about to be served.) And there were several kiddie cups spilled across the floor that was already littered with the foil wrappings of chocolate eggs and egg shells.

But, even with that, all the soft yet warm colors in front of us and the brilliant light coming in the window made all of us around the table agree that Spring is the most encouraging season. And the eggs--dyeing them, hiding them, finding them (or ahem, eating the candy in them) are such a magical part of the celebration.

I hope yours was warm and real and full of goodness. And hopefully an egg, of the hard-boiled or the chocolate variety, was part of the mix too.

Happy Spring!

letting magic happen

I was going to do a snappy little list of all the things that were so wonderful about our trip to Florida. But as I keep thinking about all of our different activities and adventures, I think what I really want to tell you about is Sam.

Or actually, to give props where props are due, I want to tell you of the magical effect a boy named Moses and a girl named Haddasah and their papa Peter and mom Judith all had on Sam while we were in Florida. I am still in awe of how in a very short period of time they gave Sam so much. And I don't mean things. 

In the span of six days, that went by way too quickly, they (collectively and individually) managed to get Sam to do things he has either been very hesitant to do or just simply not shown interest in. Or just had never been introduced to.  Last year I begged him to go to the beach with me and he begged right back to not make him go. "I'm sorry Mom but I'm just not that into it." Saturday we were coming up the driveway on our way to meet Moses and Hadassah and hit the pool when we saw them walking along the road. They announced they were instead headed to the beach. Sam's face fell. "No thanks," he murmured, obviously disappointed. Peter leaned into the car window and said, "Hey, Sam, have you ever caught a Ghost Crab? We're going to looking for some, I bet we get some too, want to help?" And instantly Sam lit up and nodded and just about leapt out the window. Did they find a Ghost Crab? Did they ever! Did they stay on at the beach digging like fools and later even hunting for and finding clams? You bet.  Had the love affair with the beach finally begun? Yesssssss. And did I, the woman who loves the beach like nobody's business, have anything to do with it? No. And that was fine by me. My kid was on Cloud Nine and jumping up and down telling me how to catch clams.

The next day Moses taught Sam how to cast and reel in a fish off the teeny pier behind Grandma's house. Then he introduced him to the joys (and odd humor) of Calvin and Hobbes. How cool is that? Calvin and Hobbes!

And then, on our last day we all headed back to the beach to end the trip on a high beach note. But the beach is an unpredictable place and when we arrived the on-shore winds were crazy. Sand was blasting and swirling. Hadassah quickly took Sam down to the surf and asked him if he wanted to go in. I was told later (by Hadassah) that he said, "No thanks, I'm really into digging in the sand for crabs and clams, but I'm not so into the water." (!!!) In so many words Hadassah, who is eight years-old, said, "Oh Sam, c'mon!" and led him into the water. I think you should know that the surf was pounding. I mean, Sam had a right to be rather timid. But somehow she led him slowly through the beach break and then he was waist high in the water and laughing and screaming and running and . . . he was hooked. Just as this was happening little Ben on the beach was getting completely sand-blasted in his eyes and ears and howling and writhing and mostly being miserable. It wasn't pretty and it wasn't fun for him and frankly, neither for me, trying to comfort the squirming, screaming, kicking being. I looked over to the water, saw Sam and Hadassah playing in the foamy surf and saw that Ted was at the water's edge watching both of them. I looked over my shoulder at Sam in the water as Ben thrashed in my arms. I smiled for Sam and walked away, deciding to take Ben in the stroller and leave the beach and head home. Did I have anything to do with Sam's first real body surfing experience? No. Was I thrilled for him? Yes. I don't have a picture of it. But as super cheesy as it sounds, I have the picture in my head.  I always will. I just know it.

And if that wasn't enough, at some point in the visit Moses and Hadassah taught Sam how to play the card game War. I had forgotten what a great card game it is. And you know what? You can play War anywhere. You can play War on the plane ride from Tampa to Chicago on the funny little fold down tray of your cramped seat. I know this for a fact because Sam and Ted did just that on our way home and I want you all to know that we were surrounded by dozens of 6-10 year-old boys on the plane and every single one of them was plugged into a DS or DVD or some sort of electronic device. Sam was plugged into a deck of cards Grandpa Bob gave him and was in heaven. 

So that's it. I still am amazed and insanely thankful for the wonder of Moses and Hadassah. And I had a big gift myself. I learned something. About mothering. That sometimes you need to let someone else make the magic happen. I realized (finally!) on this trip that it doesn't always have to be about me and Sam. Sometimes it's actually better to give him some space or watch him over my shoulder as I walk away. And Sam and I will still get to be thrilled. Because the magic still happens. I guess that's a part of growing up. I mean that for both of us.

floridian flora

We're back from our happy, sunny adventure in Long Boat Key. House is a mess, suitcases erupting clothes, dishes rioting in the sink, magazines and mail scattered hither and thither but it doesn't matter since we are still riding high on all the balmy vacation action. More on that later. For now, a few shots of the local flora that caught my fancy.

One of my favorite outings was visiting the Selby Gardens. Heaven. Freaky orchids and much more. Oh and going out on a kayak with just Ted first thing in the morning wasn't too shabby either. New goal: more adventures with plants and water and my husband--three things that I know make me a calmer, nicer person.