goods and heroes

a collection

This is Sam's pencil tip collection. Yes, that's correct, it's a collection of pencil tips.

I will never forget the first time Sam showed it to me. I was at his school to do an observation in his class, we were at his locker while he changed into his "indoor shoes" (very Montessori, I know). This was last year and at the time Sam was missing most of his front teeth. He turns to me from the locker with this huge toothless grin and says, "Do you wanna thee my penthul tip collecthun?" And I said, "What?" and he said, "My penthull tip collecthun." Oh my god, I wanted to crack up so hard but I could tell it was genuine, it was something he was truly, wholly proud of. "Sure, yes, please show me!" I answered quickly. And there it was. Mostly lead tips but a few colored ones that contrasted quite nicely against the deep shiny grey of the lead. And an eraser tip and the green and yellow metal band that connects it to the pencil. And a lovely blue bead, I never asked how that got in there. But he did tell me that it took him a long time to collect all those tips and that it wasn't easy keeping an eye out for them.

A pencil tip collection. It was just so odd and specific. That day, when I first saw it housed & protected in his locker--that most sacred place for important possessions--my initial reaction was to laugh because it was kind of um, out there. But then the feeling that washed over me was  I have an awesome kid who has such a brilliant head & heart that he created his own pencil tip collection. I mean, I had a rainbow collection when I was 9, when rainbows were everywhere, on our jeans and on those awful Love Is . . . posters. How boring and predictable is that? (But wait, my Mom loved my rainbow collection and added quite happily to it. Hmmmm. There's a lesson in here, how meta is that?)

I must say, I didn't think I'd be posting about his pencil tip collection today. But I was looking for something in the office and there it was, up on the shelf and I was just filled with joy and yeah, I started cracking up. (I still hear "You wanna thee my penthull tip collecthun?") I don't think it's that dear to him anymore. And my "marching to the beat of his own drummer" kid is not immune to peer pressure. Sam just recently demanded that his crazy surfer locks be cut off and we eventually figured out it was because a girl in his class (who we think he might have a tiny crush on) told him his hair was "too wild." Isn't funny that "crazy surfer locks" = "good" to his family and "too wild" = "not so good" to this dreamy 8 year-old girl? Hmmmm. I wonder what she'd think about his pencil tip collection.

cider

Picking apples didn't happen this year. It just wasn't in the cards with everything going on. September's always a busy month for us with back to school and Sam's birthday but this year it was just bonkers. But don't feel too sorry for us -- we've had a steady influx of locally grown apples from neighbors, friends, work pals, I even bought six bushels of apples for the charrette and they were a huge hit with everyone that came into the gym. We've munched on Honey Crisps and compared the tartness of a Jonagold with the pucker of a Granny Smith. Still, I was feeling a teentsy bit blue that fall was in full swing and an apple had not been plucked from a branch.

But that all changed on Tuesday night because my old friend Nance invited the family to come to her house to press some apple cider. Nance's owned a cider press for years and I've been invited to cider making gatherings in the past but just couldn't swing it. But this year, I knew it needed to happen. And boy am I glad it did.

We arrived at Nance's place in Little Village at 6 pm. She has a slightly overgrown garden where she cultivates and cares for everything from chickens to currants. The boys, especially Ben, were in heaven. "It's like a forest in our city," Ben said, "with a rooster!"

Fighting the fading light, we quickly set to work chopping up apples that were grown on Nance's parents' farm outside of Barrington. There were seven of us cutting up small imperfect heirloom apples, so we filled our bins and buckets pretty swiftly. Ben hung out with the chickens and Sam found a bench and dove into a book.

Then the fun really began. With a fat, full moon floating overhead, we started feeding the chopped apples into the antique press named "Lawrence" (after its original owner) painted a wonderful turquoise blue with original wooden components. We took turns tamping down the apples and turning the giant wheel that pushes the apple pulp into the wooden basket. Sam quickly put his book down (it was too dark to read anyhow) and was turning that wheel with all his might. Once the basket was filled with chopped up apples, then it was time to squeeze the cider out of the pulp and into buckets and jars.

Sam hopped onto this task as well. It really took a lot of upper body strength to squuueeeeeeeze all the juice out of the apples. When the cider started trickling down the wooden channel and into a glass jar, we all sighed collectively, it was such a lovely sound. And it smelled divine.

Nance had asked us each to bring a jar so that we could take home some cider. I brought one Ball jar for our family. But she was so impressed with Sam's determination, hard work and the joy he was getting out of pressing the cider, that she sent us home with three jars. Three! What a gift.

Of course it's the most delicious cider we have ever tasted. And we are savoring it, having wee jelly jar glasses of it breakfast & supper so as to make it last. We clinked our glasses the morning after our cider making, our arms sore from pounding, turning, pulling. "To apples, to cider, to Nance for inviting us." I asked Sam if he would like to go back again and press cider next year and he said, "Oh yeah, that was awesome." Yes it was.  We will find time to pick apples next year. And hopefully bring some over to Nance's for another cider pressing party.

 

back in the saddle, or maybe just back

I guess I didn't make it back to my blog in Septepmber, now did I? Sorry, I jumped in on an exciting project that kind of swallowed me whole. It was like, there's Bonnie sitting on her front steps watching her boys scooter up and down the sidewalk, wondering what to make for dinner and which beach to go to the following day and them Voooomp! I was transported into a totally new and at times, ass-kicking dimension. I really don't want to blather on any more about it but I just want to say that I am back! And I also want to tell you that You Rock for being so patient with me.  And if you want to see what kept me so darn busy the last eight weeks, this summarizes it up nicely.  I'll be back soon. Honest.