While We Could

We ignored the list of indoor projects (and mama's need for a shower) and set out on a little adventure today, while the sun was shining enough to warm our faces. Audrey stopped along our bike route to collect a handful of sticks. When I told her I thought she would have to leave them behind, she insisted otherwise. These sticks were for a project (what that project is she didn't say). While I had my doubts, I've learned to never underestimate the willpower (or abilities) of a four-year-old. And, never take a sunny day for granted (did I mention it's now hailing outside).



*The sticks, the bicycle, and the four-year-old all made it back to the car safely, where the sticks still sit, piled on the floorboards of the backseat.

Digging

Today the world is awash with the scenes of moody watercolors, grays and browns swirling together in puddly masterpiece. But yesterday, the world was cast in a different palette, that muted-before-the-storm hush of barely-there blues.



As the temperature crept up into the mid-fifties, we crept out to join it, one with pitchfork, one with plastic shovel, and one empty-handed, to get ahead of the work of spring. I thought I might begin to turn the garden soil, pull out the rocks or wayward toys left behind from winter's play. I thought Audrey might want to help - in her own way. I assumed Nate would roam the yard playing with the half dozen balls strewn about, uninterested in our muddy ventures. Ahem.



Apparently, he likes mud as much as his sister. I wonder what his stance will be on worms...

Wednesday

So what does one do on the first warm day of February? Go outside and play in the snow (or what's left of it), after traipsing through the freshly uncovered garden, of course. It's beginning to feel a lot like spring...at least for now.

Snow, I Mean, Ice Day

We spent most of our day tucked away warmly inside, living in gratitude of a solid roof, a stocked pantry, the coziness that comes with heat, and the thankful calm of having all our family members safe, right here. But for a little while, two of us ventured out, cup of birdseed and camera in hand, to share some of our good fortune with those that share our little yard and to take in the splendor of mother nature - her power, her magnitude, her ever-changing face. These short forays out are so necessary sometimes to remind me, who tends to whine when I get cold, of the everyday miracles we get to witness - of the gifts of our hands and our eyes, those tangible moments that become our memories. (And just why is my daughter wearing a bicycle helmet, you ask? I told her she could "skate" across the ice if she put it on, and I pulled her in the sled across the smooth plane of our yard that was once grass. She begged me to go faster, and the two of us laughed until our cheeks burned red and another round of sleet drew us in to the coziness we're blessed to call home). Wishing you warmth and the splendor of winter.

Into Year One...

I find the week between Christmas and New Years to be one focused on moving forward: Christmas decorations are collected and put away (not that that's happened here yet); resolutions are schemed; plans, big and small, are made for ringing in the year to be. In the past week, shelves have materialized in the basement closet (thank you, Jason and Brandon), two boxes and three bags of much-loved items have been dropped off to Goodwill to find new homes (again, thank you, Jason), and a second large cardboard box is beginning to fill with dated documents to shred. While it's been a week with few plans on the calendar, the days have felt full with these little tasks of moving forward and creating a space of less clutter and more simplicity for the coming year. But, no matter how important the task, one must abandon it every once in a while, go outside, and take a break to visit the now.


Today, we took a trip to the Indianapolis Art Museum so we could all get a little up-close-and-personal with this year of one we're embarking on with Nate. Jason is blessed with an employer who gives their workers this week off every year, so he was able to tag along on our art museum gardens trip for the first time. (His hand was in the first photo keeping Nate steady for those of you worrying about that balancing act). Ironically, even as we took some time to just be in the presence of one another and the art and environment around us, I looked at the pictures to find that we had documented ourselves moving on. Luckily, I turned around to find some things never change.

It's Beginning to Feel A Lot Like...

This weekend played precursor for the season: cold outside, but warm inside. A flurry of white so dense the only colors are those you make or string from the treetops. The weather, and your breath, hanging in the air. The glow and warmth of everyday utilities seen (even by the littlest among us) for the luxuries they are. A splash of red to light up the season (these roses a surprise addition to my list when I sent Jason for a grocery run). And, learning again and again that laughter, lights, and even snow are all made brighter when shared with someone else.

A Little Catching Up

We had a successful Thanksgiving break, the kind that involves days of productivity and days of relaxation, as well as a day of having others cook for us. In fact, I felt so successful following the break that Sunday night a wrote out a to-do list of all the tasks I planned to accomplish today. I felt confident in my Monday abilities. Until I woke up. It's not that I couldn't have pressed on - there's nothing wrong with me. But you see, somewhere in the middle of last night a slumber party ensued (it's been happening the last several nights, truth be told). It began around eleven when Nathan woke up crying and Jason tucked him between the two of us to settle him down. His sister joined the party, sidling up to my other side around five in the morning. And, well, their little bodies are just so warm, definitely not the incentive one needs for starting the day early.



So, we didn't. We lingered in our pajamas until the hour when I hope I won't be embarrassed by needing to open the door to my UPS man. The to-do list sat untouched on the counter and I renewed the library books online. It's not as if the library or post office are going anywhere, or growing faster than their mamas can keep up with, anyway. And so, we took our cue from the morning and introduced ourselves into this week slowly, with cookies. Audrey donned her apron (sans pants, since the moment she gets jelly on them she considers them "wet") and we got down to serious, non-to-do list work. The cookies we made seemed just right (banana oatmeal, if you're curious), the ingredients tossed together in one bowl with no need to dirty the mixer. Dough dropped by the lumpy misshapen spoonful onto a cookie sheet and sent to the oven to make the whole downstairs smell like cinnamon and blankets on rainy days. It was just that sort of day.

In that same vein, before moving on with the details of this season, I thought I'd do a bit of catching up by sharing a few small things that happened around here in the last few months - items I meant to blog about at the time, but due to morning sickness and the busyness that has no regard for morning sickness, I never got around to.

First, I finally got around to lengthening the curtains (you can see the before picture above with the orange chair). It's a project that's been on my list since I bought them. I purposely bought the shorter panels when I realized how wide the hem was on each one, thinking I could save myself fifteen bucks a panel by lengthening them once I got them home. Sadly, they stayed in their short stature state for months before I got around to introducing them to my sewing machine. But, let's just focus on the finished product, shall we? Ahh, that's better.

This fall, Audrey took to watching birds, so much so that she (and Jason) decided she must have a birdhouse. So they made, I mean, bought one. One afternoon they traveled all over town looking for birdhouse kits to make their own. Unable to find a kit, they found this little abode, to which Audrey quickly added graffiti "to let the birds know it's their house."

They also brought home a feeder, which Audrey quickly hung from a tree next to the garden (I'm slightly concerned about what this will mean next year when the birds come to that spot looking for food). The feeder and house were hung so late in the season that we weren't sure they'd have any visitors this year, but the feeder has already been emptied once and Audrey was so happy to see this little guy above (one of the first visitors) that she quickly, accidentally ran him off. I have to admit, I understand the excitement. After my grandfather passed away, each grandchild was given something like $25 or $50 of his to do with what we pleased (I was a bit older than Audrey, but apparently young enough that I'm too old now to recall what my age would have been). I wanted to get something with mine that would last and remind me of my grandparents, so I bought a bird feeder (a large one that stood on a post), which my father very graciously put front and center in the backyard.

Finally, we captured some handprints before they do what handprints do and get abilities and minds of their own, and grow faster than any mama thinks they should. These handprints were captured during a meeting of my moms' club onto an apron. I love that once the apron is of no use, I can cut the handprints out and the canvas fabric can be framed or stretched like a picture. Of course, Audrey informed me that this is actually her apron, since she made it. Luckily, she's allowing me to wear it. At least while we make cookies.

Yesterday

Yesterday, we walked out the front door to be hugged by the balmy weather and get down to business: the business of hanging Christmas lights, planting tulip and crocus bulbs, and, ahem, sledding pumpkins (our little girl is a bit between seasons, not that our activities aren't confusing her even more). It was an afternoon for getting our hands dirty, watching Audrey race down the sidewalk on her bike, and daydreaming of the season to come while enjoying what felt like remnants of the season past. Little hands, little bulbs, both bursting with big potential just waiting to bloom.

A Walk With Four

We have jumped into four, Audrey approaching it much as she does a summer pool: no hesitating before launching feet first, intent on making a splash. It only seemed right to begin this week with a celebratory field trip to the Indiana Art Museum to visit the gardens and take a look at just what we're getting ourselves into - up close and personal, and in huge block form. Then, in true four-year-old fashion, Audrey went on a treasure hunt of sorts, finding a large scattering of acorns and amassing a nice collection of seeds and caps (not that she didn't have a bit of grown-up help - what can I say, I love a seed that comes with its own beret), before adding some sticks and leaves in for good measure. We took in the colors holding fast and the others that have become, and befriended a groundskeeper spreading mulch who Audrey addressed as "the girl with the hard work." Each fall, as we add another candle to her cake, something about celebrating Audrey during this season seems fitting, as the world around us transitions in blazes of brilliant color and loud crisp crunches underfoot, every plant we pass revealing her seeds - a promise of the growth to come.

Neither Here, Nor There

I began posting these pictures yesterday before the day fractured into runaway tangents, before the sun fell, and before Nathan decided that weeknights make for the best slumber parties. By the time I set about packing up the preschool lunch bag and setting the trash can on the curb for the morning pick-up, I had forgotten that I had ever turned the computer on.

We have been chasing the days. These are the sort of days that call to be chased - sweater mornings and tank top afternoons. The crispness of fall with one last summer tease. We've been acting accordingly, mixing our seasons. Tuesday morning we made a summery lemon angel food cake before putting wheels to pavement and taking in the fall scenery en route to see all the grandparents. Yesterday, we took a morning walk along a gravel trail in a nature park, while the path was still shaded and the air still cool. We let nature entertain us with her show - a world in transition, one season slowly letting go and another about to become.