shining egg

home (last bits)

i've enjoyed reflecting on my home during this month of october.  thanks to amy for the inspiration to actually do it (instead of just thinking about doing it).  it's been a perfect time of year for this reflection, as the weather gets chilly and my nesting instincts kick into full gear.

(finally, a nature table - except that it's actually a tray on top of a table)

i realized, after reading amanda's post, that of course fall is a time of nesting - we are just like the animals, moving back into the warmth of our homes after a summer spent living (in and) out of doors.

(do you see the fingerprints on that glass!?)

and so, i end this month of october with a few little bits of autumn sprinkled through our home - corners i've revisited in the last few weeks, replacing seashells and other signs of summer with acorns and pinecones and snippets of the season at hand.  oh, i do love fall after all.

(yes, i've been busy making stephanie's trees.  still getting the hang, but enjoying it immensely.)

happy halloween to you, friends. 

home (cubes)

my kitchen is white.  all white.  white linoleum floor (cracking in several places).  white formica counters.  white laminate cabinets with white plastic handles.  white walls.  stark white.  i'd show you a photo, but there's nothing to see, really.  it's a sea of white.

the kitchen has been at the top of our list of "things to do" since we moved into the house almost five years ago.  in addition to the white-ness, there's the ancient stainless steel frigidaire cooktop - so old that only two burners are working (so old that it's from before the days when you could unplug the dead burner and plug in a new burner, so sold that the size of the cooktop is no longer a standard size for cooktops).  there's also the awkward layout.  and the bench.

it's one of those benches.  with vinyl cushions (white, of course).  a bench in a spot where nobody sits.  a bench, but really a dump.  you know?  the place where everybody drops their backpack and jacket and lunchbox and laundry basket and dirty sweatshirt and toy-that-i'll-be-right-back-for and markers and unfinished art project and pine-cones-collected-while-walking.  the bench was the dump.  oh, how i wish i had a photo to show you from before.

last fall, a brilliant friend suggested some alternatives to the dumping-bench.  and with that, the vinyl cushions were gone and we've been living with these cubes ever since.  they're white.  but the bins inside are not.  they're square.  but the baskets on top are not.  the bins are particleboard from ikea.  the baskets are kaisa grass, woven by artisans in bangladesh.

a spot of color, of line, of order.  a spot of contrasts in my kitchen.

i love mail

i'm still aware of the blanket of fog surrounding me - though there are breaks where i can see through to the sky.  and i am reassured, knowing that the sky is out there, waiting for me when the fog lifts.  i'm attributing the continued fog-i-ness to lack of sleep leftover from earlier in the week combined with solo parenting, an almost-recovered-but-still-a-bit-off little one, three days of cloudy skies (which have brought most welcome rain), several projects hanging over my head.  as sarah so wisely said, there is a spot on the horizon where the sun is shining warm and waiting for me.  i'll keep moving patiently through the fog until i get there.

in the meantime, i haven't caught the right moment between rain drops in which to take a photo of my mailbox, but i'm sharing my recent mail anyway.  i can't stand to keep it to myself any longer.

the first package was from sarah.  a while ago i had admired her leaf cards, and asked if i could purchase some.  so she sent the set i ordered, along with some beautiful extras (those brown and chartreuse cards in the back - aren't those colors wonderful?).  all wrapped up with bakers twine.  lovely cards (three already used for writing notes and mailed away!) from a lovely blog friend.

and then last weekend, on my doorstep, there was a package from amy.  we had agreed to swap acorns - those texas ones looking so different from the ones here in the mid-atlantic.  not only did she send us acorns - she sent us a pressed leaf, some seed pods, and these lovely magnolia buds (are they buds?  i'm not sure what to call them, really) - all sorted and classified in baggies!  and, she sent some little moo cards - the first i've ever held in my hands!  the leaves and seeds and acorns were carefully examined by the budding scientists in our family.  and they're now gracing a tray in our living room (the rain making it too dark to take pictures - that will have to wait for another day).

finally, yesterday i came home to find these fabrics that i had ordered from sew, mama, sew.  some lovely textile inspiration.  i have plans for them (well, some of them anyway!) - but before i can get started, i've got to finish making a costume for a little girl who insists that she must be a purple pumpkin for halloween.  hmmm...

happy weekend.

just pictures (or, the fog might be lifting)

a post with no pictures (or, a bit rough around the edges)

the grandparents are gone. the father is in china. i took a rain-check on my anniversary (since it would have been celebrated as he was boarding the plane). and the littlest one among us has a raging case of strep throat. she and i have not slept for the better part of two days and two nights.

i've been busy these last few days, peddling to keep the bicycle upright. tending and holding and trying to make right all that is wrong in the life of a sick little person. this, by the way, is impossible - one can not make right all that is wrong in the life of a sick little person. there will always be a medicine that she doesn't like or a napkin that is sticky or a sweatshirt that is too hot or a pillow that is too fluffy or some other thing that will set said sick little person off into waves of misery and moaning. and no amount of tending or holding or just-plain-mama-ing can make that right.

in the midst of all of this and then some, i've baked a batch of my favorite-cookies-even-a-mother-can-love (whole what flour and chopped oats to go along with the chocolate chips, butter, and brown sugar), cooked up a batch of granola, whipped up a pin cushion like the one in this book, and made a pair of fuzzy pink flannel size five-ish pajama pants with a pink heart on the right leg.

no photos. not a one.

i've hardly been at my best. parenting alone, and sleep deprived. lack of sleep makes the world look so flat to me, life in shades of grey. i can hardly see the beauty of the tulips on the kitchen counter. and yet i've been overwhelmed by the urge to sew and bake in stolen moments when i'm not holding or tending. and i'm wondering whether this urge to nest in the midst of illness is about taking care of my little one, or taking care of myself.

clearly, i've gotten away from blogging about home in this month of october. i do look forward to coming back to that. and soon, i hope. but in the meantime, i'll be peddling along. tending and holding. and likely sewing and baking on the side.

i know this is just a moment in time. and when i forget, i remind myself that this moment will pass (hopefully tomorrow, thursday at the latest?). and i am careful to count my many, many blessings every single day. even in the flat, dull, sleep-deprived moments.

oh, and when the moment does pass, i think i'll share a photo of my (very boring and plain black) mailbox. because the mail has brought many gifts my way in the last few days. and i can't wait to share.

painting, and a bit of photography

i started a new painting class in september - a new-to-me teacher, new studio.  and i started with a new medium.  i have always painted with oil paints (except when i paint with watercolors at home, or when i play with acrylics with the kids).  but not too long ago, i became concerned about the effects of the oils and the turpentine on the environment, and on our health.  so over the summer i experimented with water-based oil paints - no turpentine, clean up with water.  much easier, less toxic.  and in september, with the start of this new class, i made the switch.

that first class was surprisingly fun.  i was nervous, going in, feeling like a kid on the first day of school - new teacher, new classroom, all of that.  i even had to pack my lunch!  but my painting didn't seem to reflect my nerves and i was fairly well pleased with the result.  it's not finished, but i'm liking it.  i am.

following that first session there were three weeks without class - not ideal, but the way the calendar fell.  and convenient for organizing my new supplies, cutting and preparing my paper.  last thursday was the second class.  i was beyond excited to get back to the easel, to revisit my sunflower painting, to open my case of brushes and paints and get back to work.

but on the way to the class with all of my supplies loaded into the car and my skin practically itching to paint, i got sick.  i think it was my breakfast that morning, but i had to turn the car around.  and i spent the rest of the day lying on the sofa.  and on the floor.  it was ugly.  and a big disappointment.  (and bad timing, considering the wedding last weekend, but luckily the affliction was short-lived and i was recovered by evening.)

so today, finally, today i was back in the studio.  the class was painting a model, a moving model - a man, playing the guitar.  and the teacher instructed us to paint in a particular layering style of painting that is unfamiliar to me.  challenging.  hard, really.  i was working and working until the bitter end.  again, it's unfinished.  but i'm not displeased with the progress.  and i'm looking forward to next week.

in the meantime, i've signed up for ani's photography swap.  have a look-see, and join in if you'd like.

home (jiggity jig)

home again, home again... isn't that how it goes?

thank you, all of you, for your kind comments about my poncho. i do love it, and it's keeping me warm. and pleased. thank you, too, for your well wishes on the wedding - and my gocco!

the wedding was absolutely lovely. the flower girl and the ring bearer (and, of course, the best man) were precious and executed their responsibilities perfectly. the bride was stunning, the flowers were breathtaking, the food was tasty, and we have a new brother-in-law in the family.

the whole weekend was delightful. the weather was outstanding - clear, cool, crisp air. i even wore a hat in the mornings! i forgot how much i love my wintertime hat. delicious food, delicious family and friends. far too few pictures were taken by me - funny, considering how many photos i take on an average day.

and now we're home. my cousin has gone. there are still a few obstacles to overcome before life really (please, i hope) settles down - another visit, later this week, by grandparents travelling back home after the wedding, a father (and husband, of course!) travelling to china for business next week. but already, i'm feeling myself sinking into this home place where middle-fall has set in and calls me toward the rhythm of the season.

today, i cleaned the kitchen (which had become a dumping ground for all sorts of things - from library books to science projects to packages waiting to be returned - over the last few weeks). i put everything back in its place. i'm always amazed by how much brighter the kitchen looks when all of the clutter has been cleared. so bright.

this tidy kitchen counter is my favorite spot today. it just smacks of the rhythm i crave, of the promise of this season. i was up at six, baking muffins to put into lunch boxes. a cooking project is planned for after school. a sweater, keeping me toasty. yes, fall has come to me.

interruptions of the very best kind

you know the expression about life moving at lightening speed?  right now, mine is moving like a hurricaine.  it's all wonderful, it's just blowing and spinning, and so much is happening.

we've had a most special houseguest for the past two weeks - my cousin is visiting from israel.  not only is she my cousin, but she is my dear friend, an overgrown playmate for my children, and such a pleasure to have staying here.  she's not leaving for another week still, but already, i'm dreading her departure.

in the midst of frolicking with the cousin, we've been preparing for a very special family event - my sister-in-law is getting married on sunday.  we'll be heading north for a long weekend - me and the best man, the ring bearer, and the flower girl.  there have been plenty of preparations for the trip - finding just the right thing for everyone to wear, figuring out how to pack for cold weather (after all, we've been wearing shorts and t-shirts since may), remembering where we stashed our jackets and hats, practicing the slow-walk-down-the-aisle.

somewhere in all of that business i finished my poncho.  finally.  i had promised myself i'd have it done by october 1.  two years and four months after i cast on.  and i love it.  love it.  i'll be wearing it on saturday night to the rehearsal dinner and i can't wait to be wrapped in its coziness.  malabrigo yarn in brownberries.  vagabond poncho pattern, but i can't give you any reference information - my pattern is on a wrinkled photocopy, it's been so long that i can't even remember where it came from.

we've been so wrapped up in this hurricaine of our life that we're super late for our cd swap, sorry guys.  it's almost ready to go, and i've planned to mail it every day for the last week.  but i haven't yet.  so next week, after the wedding.  and another little (small, kid-centered, not too elaborate) swap with amy will go in the mail next week, too.

and, because none of that is enough, and because i've been itching about this for months, i bought myself one of these.  i did.  and it arrived.  thanks to leslie for sending it so quickly, and to sarah who directed me to it in the first place.  but it's been so busy here that i haven't even opened the package!  unheard of for me - i can assure you, i am not a patient person.  next week is suddenly looking very full!

so i'm off now, to find the calm within the storm.  they say it's calm inside the eye, right?  that's where i'm headed.

see you next week.

home (reflection)

this house is full of mirrors. full of mirrors, i tell you. since we moved in four years ago we've taken down the mirrored closet doors in the kitchen, the full wall of mirrors in the master bathroom, and the gigantic mirrored headboard in the bedroom (seriously). but still, there is the wall of mirrors in the living room and the half-wall in the dining room, the four mirrored closet doors in the entry way, and the ten-or-so mirrored doors and drawers in our closet. yes, plenty of opportunity for catching one's reflection.

in our previous home, we didn't have a single full-length mirror. just the ones above the bathroom countertops. and an antique mirror of my grandmother's hanging in the dining room. yet i was never unsatisfied. i was unworried about not being able to see myself head-to-toe, glad to not be obsessing over my appearance (though i did, one day, go to work dressed in blue - wearing the pants from one suit and the jacket from another - oops).

moving into this house was a bit of mirror-shock. but after the initial amazement at seeing myself around every corner wore off, and after we removed of some of those mirrors, i realized how nice it is for the children to see their whole selves, how the smoky mirrors lend a sense of atmosphere to the living room, and how useful it can be to catch a glimpse of one's self on the way out the door.

you can imagine, though, that when we finished our bathroom renovation we didn't want to slap another piece of glass over the sink. there's enough of that in the house already. we've been looking for antique framed mirrors to finish off this project, and in the meantime, we've had no mirrors at all above our bathroom sinks. a little gift of empty space, it's been. until this past weekend, when we realized that the answer (well, one answer anyway) was right under our noses.

we hung my grandmother's antique mirror above my bathroom countertop. and now, i see myself there, again.

{amy and sarah are posting about their homes this month, too. dominique and vanessa have joined in. if there are others out there, please let me know - i'd love to visit your homes with a cup of tea.}

home (morning light)

my daughter's room, again.

the morning light falls in my children's rooms.  lovely morning light, lucky little ones.

the mornings are quiet here lately, (though not this morning, as we're enjoying a very special houseguest and school is closed for a few days), and in that quiet, i find the morning light - a corner here, a shadow there.  the light has softened lately, mellowed into a golden hue with the onset of autumn.

i love this morning light, and though i'm sad to see the sky so dark when i awaken each day, i'm glad for the quiet moments later, to catch this angle as it falls across my daughter's dresser - the dresser that was mine through my childhood, my father's before me, and my grandmother's before him.  it brings me great joy to see my children's clothes laid (or crumpled, depending on the day) within these drawers.  i know it brings joy to my grandmother, too.

and so it is, the light falls across this dresser that has known four generations of my family.  a singularly unremarkable moment, outstanding all the same.