shining egg

and the foliage.

wow.  when was the last time i was here three days in a row?

i don't have much to say about the foliage in maine in october - i'm pretty sure these photos speak far more clearly than i ever could.  but i will say that we climbed the mountain you see in the third photo - that mountain and the one next to it - on our first full day in maine.  there was a whole lot of steep climbing, and i don't really love heights, so i mostly didn't look down.  but when i did stop to sit and turn around, woweeee, it was extraordinary - the foliage, and the water, and the views.  

there was one part of the hike that took us up a very steep part of the mountain - it was short, but steep (there were metal rungs in the rock for climbing, that's how steep), and visually, it seemed to be really close to the edge of the mountain (have i mentioned that i don't really like heights?) and i was super nervous for a few minutes.  but everyone was really kind and patient with me, and i summoned my courage and climbed.  and at the top i felt so very proud of myself for overcoming that moment of fear.  for climbing up those metal rungs.  for moving forward and not letting myself get stuck.  and i felt so very grateful, too.  for my legs and my arms and my lungs, which carried me up the mountain.  for the parts of this world that are so stunningly beautiful.  for my life.  for my family.  for all of it.  so.  overwhelmingly.  grateful.

and because that's not enough on this thursday morning, did you read rachel's post about habits?  i've been thinking so much about my habits lately.  just yesterday, i was telling a friend that i know that the general funk i've been feeling lately is a direct result of the bad habits i've fallen into - not enough sleep, eating all the wrong foods, no yoga practice, not nearly enough time spent on my creative life.  i know it, and yet i keep on keeping on with those bad habits.  feeling the funk.

so i'm declaring today my day.  i'm going back to my good habits if it kills me.  a proper bedtime.  foods that agree with me.  yoga.  i'm going back to it.  all of it.  it's time.  (and as incentive, i have a little treat in mind for myself if i can keep up the good habits through thanksgiving.  i figure that by then, they'll have stuck.)

speaking of habits.  did i mention our three october guests at habit?  they're awesome.

that's all.  for now.  except for how much i love glee.  (and also modern family, by the way.  i started out watching because it's directed by an old friend, but it turns out that it's pretty darn funny.  thank heavens for the dvr.)

tomorrow, the forest.  and the end of the trip pictures, which is good, because i have other things to share.

new year.

over the weekend we celebrated rosh hashanah - the jewish new year.  (according to the hebrew calendar, we welcomed the year 5770.)  this is a precious time of year, full of synagogue services and family meals and visits with friends and lots and lots of food - brisket and honey cake and matzoh balls and apples and honey.  all of that, and much reflection.  it is the time of year when we look back over our behavior, our words, our actions from the previous year - an inventory of sorts - and look forward to the behaviors we hope to exhibit in the coming year.  it's an overwhelming time of year, but a unique moment for a pause, for reflection, for adjusting course (there is always somewhere to adjust course, isn't there?).

i could go on and on about this holiday season - about the tradition of dipping apples in honey, about the tradition of tossing bread crumbs into a stream to symbolize casting off the bad deeds of the previous year, about the haunting melodies in the synagogue, about the apple pie i make each year like my father did before me.  i could go on, but instead i'll leave you with this photo, which, for me just about sums it all up - the glorious weather this past weekend, the blur of time speeding by, the light in each of our lives.  i'll leave you with this photo, and with these words, which come from the written material distributed at the synagogue service we attended on saturday:

"when we really begin a new year it is decided...who shall be truly alive; and who shall merely exist."

that is, after all, the distinction i am continually trying to make - to live fully, to be truly alive, rather than to merely exist.  

wishing you all a moment of pause, a bit of time for reflection, and a happy new year - whether you celebrate this particular holiday, or not.

{also - reminding you that tomorrow is the autumnal equinox in the northern hemisphere, making today the very last day to shop the beach collection.  tomorrow, like summer, it will be gone.}

about that last post

it's funny.  i felt funny posting about capture the flag yesterday.  it's funny that i felt funny.

i've rolled this around a bunch over quite a number of months - what sort of blog this is - and i keep coming back to the fact that it's not any sort categorizable blog at all.  (is it?)  at least not as i think about "the categories" - craft blog, mama blog, blog full of lovely links.  

i don't really chronicle my artwork here - i mean, i mention it, but i don't write about it regularly or share everything that i'm painting or working on - though often i wish that i did keep a better record here of what's happening in my own creative process.

and i don't really chronicle my family life here either.  they're private sorts, my husband and our children, and since this isn't their blog, i try to respect their privacy.  as much as possible.  though i did earn some points with my private son when i was able to recover his recipe for sesame noodles supreme by googling it, since he gave me permission to share it here last fall.

once, many months ago now, i stumbled across a blog with a long blog roll on the sidebar - the blogs were categorized: design blogs, craft blogs, mommy blogs, other interesting blogs.  i was in the "other interesting blogs" category.  i remember being taken aback, at the time - i suppose that when you're a mother, it's hard to imagine that you could fall into any category other than the mother category - but that was when i first realized that i don't write so much about my life as a mother in this space.

maybe that's why i felt funny writing about capture the flag.  it's not my usual subject matter (what is my usual subject matter!?), nothing to do with anything really, other than my life as a mother.  our life as a family.  that's why i turned the comments off, i guess.

but why did i feel compelled to write about capture the flag in the first place?  if it has nothing to do with the sorts of things that i generally write about here?  aha.  

i thought i knew.  i thought i was going to type the next sentence and say that i wrote about it here because it was such a glorious night that i wanted to preserve it and share it.  but as i was about to type that sentence i realized that i've known all along exactly why i wrote about capture the flag in this space yesterday.  only i didn't realize that i knew it until this very minute.

whenever i talk to people about why i keep this blog, i talk about finding the beauty in small things.  i talk about finding the beauty and acknowledging the beauty and celebrating the beauty as a way of inviting more beauty into my life.  and, of course, that's exactly why i wrote about capture the flag here yesterday - because it was a beautiful evening.  it was a little idea that turned into a great celebration of friendship and summertime and sweaty children and cold beer and late evenings in the yard with fireflies.  and i wanted to capture that, to celebrate it, to hold it up as a reminder of what can be, to invite more of those extraordinary moments into my life.

days fly by

i baked zucchini bread yesterday.  two loaves, using this recipe, and they're almost gone.  i'd like to bake more today, though i might not in an effort to stop eating it.  i especially love the crust.

it's raining here.  the boy stayed home from camp today.  i'm listening to brian's summer mix.  i have lots and lots of pictures from the last few weeks to share and i don't want to sit at the computer long enough to share them.  i haven't been reading blogs much lately, and when i do read i find that i'm not commenting - instead i'm sitting here wishing that we could sit together over a cup of something and talk to each other.  really talk to each other.  i have the strong sense that i would learn so much from you - i do learn so much from you all of the time, and i know that i'd learn even more sitting across a table or a lawn or a patch of sand or gravel from you, instead.  and somehow, i've been resenting the notion that a comment could come close to a conversation.  it's awful of me, i know.  but there you have it.

i've made one of my paintings into prints.  i'm stalling on printing two of my photographs really huge (20x30 huge) for a friend because i'm afraid that i won't like the quality.  i'm working on a commission - a smallish flower painting.  i cut a big board into 3x3 inch squares to make some tiny seascape paintings.  i have my easel set up in the living room lately in an effort to squeeze in as much painting time as possible.  it's not going so well - i've been spending too much time eating watermelon and hula hooping and making zucchini bread and sitting around the campfire.

i'm woefully behind on the gocco swap, yet again.  and on my pay-it-forward obligation, too.  we harvested the first two cucumbers from our garden.  and one grape tomato.  i'm pretty sure we don't get enough sun in our little plot of land, but things are coming along.  

i am wearing my hyacinth necklaces almost every day.  i am re-reading a year of mornings.  i am loving rachel's beach photos.  and zinnia's from the farmer's market.  i am waiting impatiently to pick up a second roll of film from the photo shop.  i am waiting even more impatiently for our trip to the beach in two weeks.  i am trying not to pay attention to how it is that summer is half gone.  i am here and life is full and i think tomorrow i'll go to the pool while the kids are at camp and sit.  just sit.  and try to slow down the passing of time, if only for a morning.

been sitting in the sunshine

i forgot to mention that we were going to the beach.  there was all of the business that goes along with the end of school, complete with potting plants for teacher gifts and a kindergarten play and spirit day and the like; and there was a visit from grandparents; and there was a photography job; and there was that first week of summer vacation when everybody feels as though they've been set free and acts accordingly; and then we were off to the beach for a glorious week in the sunshine.

it was a perfect way to jump start summer.  it was a much needed break from the rain.  it was a joy to be with family and watch cousins play together and take showers outside and paint in the sand and sit and watch the waves.  

and now we're back.  we're unpacked except for my backpack which is half-full of sand that i just can't bear to shake out.  i'm making these cookies to pack in lunch boxes for the first day of camp tomorrow.  i have a long long list of things to do in the coming weeks - things that i'm looking forward to sharing - things like painting and printing and goccoing and printing photographs and possibly printing note cards and making prints of paintings and possibly a fiber project.  and a big game of capture the flag.  and a whole bunch of barbeque-ing.  and lots and lots of seashell-sorting.  and there's more, too.

but first i'm going to take a deep breath.  and make a peach cobbler.  because it's summertime.  at last.

week of yellow {day 4}*

it's thursday.  we're four days into erin's week of yellow.  three days into the fever - which appears to be gone as of this morning - good news for the girl who already missed the 100th day of school and (hopefully) now won't have to miss her class field trip to see charlotte's web tomorrow.  

it seemed that i saw yellow everywhere i went today - a stunning local shop where they often arrange their wares by color (and where i really think they ought to sell martha's stunning creations), the market where the grapefruit and lemons and golden delicious apples were calling my name, driving down the street where there seemed to be so many yellow taxis - i felt like yellow was following me and cheering me and lifting me all day.  

these are some of the yellows that have been cheering me all week.  (click on the mosaic for credits.)

also, there are a few bits that i wanted to capture from this day.  moments and feelings that i wanted to catch with a net and lock in a box so that i'd be able to remember them one day when i can't remember them anymore.  and even though they're not yellow, these little bits feel bound up in this week of yellow for me.  and i kind of like that.  so here goes.

* l. got dressed this morning in her pink striped tights, red velvet skirt, and purple striped dress.  beyond adorable.  but she traded the purple striped dress for an orange t-shirt before we left on our errands.  oh well.

* she and i spent the morning taking photographs around the house.  i climbed on the chair to photograph the breakfast table, and when i got down, she climbed up and did the same.  she learned how to use the self-timer, too.  i heard her playing photographer in the living room while i was uploading my photos in the kitchen.  my heart went pitter-patter.

* we went to the market together like we used to before she started school.  even though she was running and leaping through the store while pushing the little cart, it was so much fun to have her company.  and when we came home, we sat on her bedroom floor playing with her dollhouse.  i realized then how much i miss our quiet daytimes together - afternoons and weekends are not the same.  and even though i'm glad she's getting big and capable, and i'm enjoying her six year old self so much, i was glad, too, for the peek into the way it used to be.

* today was the 3rd grade play at school.  a play about rubbish.  b. was a soup can, but when i arrived in the auditorium, he came running to me dressed as a houseplant.  somebody was absent so he was playing two parts.  he knew everybody else's lines already.  of course.

* my boy the soup can/house plant stood on the stage in front of the whole elementary school and all of the 3rd grade parents and actually acted.  he didn't just recite lines.  he had stage presence and emotion and intonation and he looked confident and so grown up and he was actually funny and everybody laughed at his funny lines.  i was so proud.  not because he was funny, but because he was confident.  and poised.

* and while i was watching him there, among his classmates, singing and dancing and acting away, i suddenly saw him as this independent being with a whole universe of his own.  as someone who teachers and classmates see as capable and flexible and able to do so many different things.  and he is.  he's not just my little boy anymore.  and i was so proud.

* this afternoon, when we were all at home together after the play and the kids were sharing hershey's kisses on the living room floor, i had the unexplainable and unstoppable need to sew ten little beanbags for l.'s counting project at school.  the note from her teacher said to send ten counters - they suggested tongue depressors or dominoes, but i had to make her mini-beanbags.  i knew the urge to sew something was coming - it's been brewing for a bit, so i'm not entirely surprised.  though it did push dinner back.  

i think that's all of it, then.  except that i ate a whole lot of kale for dinner.  i've been enjoying kale lately - sauteed with onion or garlic and olive oil, with some lemon juice and sea salt thrown in at the end.  but i hadn't made any for a week or so - and then heather reminded me that kale is an excellent "restoring-balance" food.  and i needed some restoring of balance today.  it was good.  so good.

now, that's really all.  

see you back here tomorrow for the final day of yellow week.  i'm sad to see it end so soon.  

*alternately titled, "a mosaic of favorites and a whole lot of sentimental thoughts about my children."

(don't forget to see more yellow here.  and here.  and here, too.)

t-minus 3 days and counting

hanukkah starts sunday evening at sundown.  my kids winter vacation starts tomorrow at 230 in the afternoon.  and i have not done one single thing to get ready for this holiday season, save for taking out the box of supplies and listening to this song over and over.  that, and making peppermint bark and sugar cookies - neither of which has a blessed thing to do with hanukkah.  it's just that martha suggested, over on flickr, that my holiday spirit might return if i eat some holiday cookies.  i'm testing her theory.

really, though, i think my lack of seasonal enthusiasm has more to do with having had an extraordinary holiday season last year - full of meaning and celebration and joy.  and, too, that the world doesn't feel very festive to me right now.  i'm overly aware of how my children need nothing (they practically can't even think of things they want), of how i need nothing, of how desperately i don't want to spend money on things that are not needed when there are so many who need so much.  so i'm struggling with the spirit a bit.  and i'm alright with that.

on sunday the holiday will begin.  there will be candles and latkes.  there might be small gifts.  there will be family and love and joy at our table.  and it will be good.  

in the meantime, i'm planning to be back in this space before then with a few little things to share.  but first, those cookies.

bits, 3

*molly and i met for dinner last night.  we sat and talked until the waiter cleared our water glasses from the table.  but we could have talked for three more hours, at least; we played with our cameras and talked about family and children and blogging (of course) and so much more.  (and we just might be cooking up a little project together.  i'll let you know.)  when they started sweeping the floors around our table, we took the hint.  and then we took pictures in the bathroom.  yes we did.  

*i haven't been taking many pictures lately.  in fact, i don't think i used my camera for four whole days last week.  it's very unlike me, but i've made peace with the fact that there will be days in my 365 set with no photo - it will be a true reflection of my life.  

*i'm loving martha's s t i l l: body week.  i've yet to find anybody around here that's even remotely still, but i'm working on it.  and feeling inspired by these beautiful photos.

*my high school is having an alumni art show and i submitted two pieces; the opening is tonight.  i'm curious - and excited - to see my paintings hanging on a wall.  i'm a bit nervous, too.  it's high school, after all.  

*i have been spending too much money lately in some of my favorite shops.  and now i feel like i'm stalking the mailman.

*i've been knitting again.  (thanks to erin for helping me find my mojo.)  i so enjoy sitting with the yarn in my lap, the needles clicking, in the evenings when it's dark outside and the light in the house is golden and warm.  i've been knitting slowly, but knitting.  i made myself a pair of these.  and now i'm casting on for this.

*i made a super delicious sweet potato soup on sunday night.  super delicious and super easy.  i ate it for lunch yesterday too, and i'm plotting about when i can eat it again.  and i made this bread twice last week - which was also super easy and super delicious.  i've been spending a lot of time in the kitchen lately, and loving it.

on that note - and because i do well with a deadline - i will not be posting anything else here until i post about the kitchen, the good and the bad that is the kitchen.  tomorrow maybe.  by the end of the week, for sure.

rolling

i made tortillas and beans for dinner last night.  i've become so enamored with homemade tortillas that i can't bring myself to buy them at the store anymore, which is both good and bad.  it's good because, of course, homemade is better, healthier, all around.  but it's bad because i don't always have the time to make my own, or the inclination to cover the entire kitchen - counter tops, floors, everything - with flour.  but last night i did, and i'm so glad.  and today there will be quesadillas for lunch.

as an aside, while i was cooking the beans, after i had soaked them and sauteed the onion and the garlic, and just as i was about to pour the broth over the pot of yumminess, i realized that i was out of cumin.  luckily there was only one child at home with me at the time, and he acquiesced to going with me to the market down the street.  the beans were delicious, in the end, and they'll be in the quesadillas at lunch today, too.

but while i was rolling (and rolling and rolling) the tortillas yesterday afternoon, i realized that i have, um, five rolling pins.  which seems excessive, even for someone who does a lot of rolling.  there is the marble rolling pin we got as a wedding gift that i have never (ever) used, and which weighs about two hundred pounds.  there is the old wooden rolling pin with handles that i adopted when we packed up my grandmother's apartment, what seems like many moons ago.  there is the straight pin i bought for myself several years ago, needing one without handles.  and, there are still two more.  

there is the tiny rolling pin i bought for the kids, but which turns out to be the very, very best for rolling tortillas.  it's lightweight, easily maneuverable, you can see it in the first photo; i've grown quite attached to it.  and there is the most special rolling pin of all (also in the first photo) - the extra-long, straight, and well-loved rolling pin that belonged to my great-grandmother.  it lived with my aunt for many, many years, and when she passed away two years ago, the rolling pin came to live with me.

i think i'll get rid of the others - the marble pin and the straight pin i bought for myself - find them new homes where they will find use and bring enjoyment, while i roll and roll and feel grateful for the history and the future and the possibilities i hold in my hands - and for tortillas and beans.  yum.

been gone a bit

remember me?  i used to live in this neighborhood?    

i didn't plan to be gone for two weeks, but i feel like i blinked my eyes on the first day of school and suddenly it was the birthday, and the next thing i knew we were dipping apples in honey to celebrate the new year, and then we were traipsing through the woods to a stream where we tossed breadcrumbs meant to symbolize all of the mistakes we've made in the past year - throwing those symbolic mistakes away - and then it was yom kippur, the holiest day of the jewish year - the day of atonement, and phew.  it's been a whirlwind.  there were three separate birthday cakes, a batch of triple-chip cookies, a batch of brownies, two coffee cakes, two apple crisps, and a double crust apple pie.  and that's just the desserts.  really, i'm not at all sure how i got here.  but here i am.

i miss this space.  i miss writing here daily.  i miss noticing the tiny details of each day and sharing them with you.  i've been noticing, of course, but there's something about the sharing that brings things alive.  the noticing, and the documenting, and the sharing.  i mean, sometimes it's really (really) nice to put the camera down and just be, to eat the granola and drink the tea without first stopping to take a picture.  but there's also something very special about stopping before lifting the spoon to take a picture, and sharing it here with people who appreciate photographs of granola and tea - and also appreciate the people who take photographs of their granola and tea.

and all this time that i've been gone, it's not like i didn't have anything to say or share.  but sometimes i struggle with this space as narrative vs. well...non-narrative.  so while i might have dropped in to share the paintings i made on a recent trip to the horse farm, or the coasters sent to me by my friend rachel, i felt held-up by the need to fill in the missing space.  

don't get me wrong, i love the narrative.  it's just that sometimes i'd like to just share bits of nothingness, and not feel bogged down by the narrative.  and i know that's all in my head (really, i know this), that you wouldn't mind (would you?) if i just shared bits of nothing when the business of life becomes too much and i get stuck in the muck.  truly, these are rhetorical questions.

i'm going to try, to really try, to keep myself to a routine of being in this space - with words, or photos, or paintings, or things i'm enjoying, or bits of nothing, really - so that i don't get weighted down by the time-gone-by and start feeling like i can't post again until i fill in the blanks.  ok?  ok.

and that's just a teensy bit of what's been floating through my mind these last two weeks.  i'm woefully behind on my flickr-ing and my blog reading.  i've got projects galore unfinished (hello gocco swap?  yikes).  and i've got some intense travel coming up in the next few weeks.  but i'm going to be around - i'm going to make myself be around here.  because this is my neighborhood, and i miss you, my friends.