Depth of Summer

This has got to be my favorite time of year. The kids and I take off here and there for trips to swimming holes..or hiking trails on the BRP...or on mini-odysseys to visit old and far-flung friends, where we drink copious amounts of wine (that is me and the "old friends" drinking the wine...we don't share it with the kids..), make great pots of pesto pasta and olive bread and talk of days past and yet to come.

The garden runs amok, rife with oversized volunteer pumpkins, surprise tomatoes and whole colonies of harlequin bugs and those cursed Mexican bean beetles that I pad out gleefully in my bare feet to slaughter each evening with nothing but a flat rock and a large-ish piece of mulch or my bare hands.

At this point, I have lost all pretense of hoping for order. The garden is its own being. The once-bare spot where the potatoes where dug up now hosts a weird quilt of bastard onions, tomatilloes, nasturiums, hopi tobacco and herb plants that I thought would die, and thus put out to pasture in this bleak outpost. Somehow, thanks to the August sun and other unknowable blessings, they now are thriving, dark green and musky in the intense sunlight.

I walk out each day at the hottest point, when the kids are fading in the house, plugged into a video or sucking on a popsicle in the shade, and I inhale this fetid chaos...and I smile. This, my friend, is Life.

Ginger Bug

A couple of bottles of our ginger ale. I love having a worthy purpose for old bottles!

I never thought I'd ever get this excited about a non-alcoholic drink. But guess what folks? I have just made ginger ale!! (or ginger beer, as the recipe I used calls it)

And I'm just going to go on and say it: It's amazing.

It's dry and spicy and zingy. It is reminiscent of that lovely Reed's stuff you spend a fortune on at EarthFare. It was so fizzy that when we Birch and I opened the first bottle this morning it fizzed out like champagne! Very exciting!

I used the recipe from one of my kitchen bibles as follows:

Ingredients
3 inches or more of fresh grated ginger root

2 cups sugar

2 lemons

water

Process

Make a ginger bug to start the fermentation: Add 2 tsp grated ginger (skin and all) and 2 tsp sugar to 1 cup of water. Stir well and leave in a warm spot covered with a cloth to allow air circulation. Add same amount of ginger and sugar every day or two and stir until the bug starts to bubble (2 days - 1 week

Make the ginger beer anytime after the bug becomes active. Boil 2 quarts water. Add 2-6 inches of grated ginger root (depending on how spicy/gingery you want your drink to be!) and 1-1/2 cups sugar. Boil the mixture for about 15 minutes. Cool.

Strain out ginger and add juice of the lemons and the strained ginger bug. (If you want, you can keep a bit of the ginger bug to jumpstart future batches. Simply replenish with water ginger and sugar.) Add enough water to make 1 gallon.

Bottle in resealable bottles. Bail-top beer bottles or soda bottles work well. Leave bottles to ferment in a warm spot for about 2 weeks.

Chill before opening. Remember -- when you open your bottles, have a glass handy for the champagne-like fizz!

So that's it. So easy! And yummy. And seriously...who doesn't love the sound of the words "ginger bug"?

The Mad Kitchen Scientist

That's a lot of funky cherries! Notice the brown slush in the bottom of the box. But even such nastiness will not deter the diehard fermenter. Hey...all those cherries on top are Perfectly Good.

I am totally obsessed with fermentation. At a party at the house of some friends a little more than a year ago, I picked up the book "Wild Fermentation: The Flavor, Nutrition, and Craft of Live-Culture Food" by Sandor Ellix Katz. Check him out here. I haven't looked back since.

Using this book and various resources on the internet, as well as the book "Nourishing Traditions" by Sally Fallon , I have made my own kimchi, sauerkraut, tempeh, carrot-ginger pickles, goat cheese, vinegar, hard cider and ginger ale. The ginger ale is still brewing, but all the other things have been shockingly successful. Well...except for that one terrifying batch of vinegar. But that's for another post.

I have a clandestine source (as in, if I tell you I'll have to kill you) of mass quantities of random organic produce and fruits. It's not a regular supply, so I have to be prepared when a windfall arrives to start fermenting.

Last night on the summer solstice, soon after I had gotten the little one down to sleep, I was just getting ready to do some reading or crochet, when I received a sudden windfall of past-their-prime organic cherries at my door step. About 25 lbs of them! It wasn't pretty folks. These cherries needed to be dealt with immediately!

I dropped my plans for a peaceful evening and immediately went to work sorting, cleaning and then mashing them up for a nice solstice wine. Well, I hope it's nice anyway. I think part of the fun of fermentation is that it's always a gamble of sorts.

Cherries all mashed up and ready to become solstice wine. Too bad it will be almost a year before it's ready to drink.

Update on LIfe in the Twilight Zone

On Monday my car caught on fire. And yes, I was driving it at the time.

Apparently there was this little piece of metal on the back of the battery that came disconnected. Really small thing. BUT it was the only thing keeping the stupid battery from turning itself into a fireball. There had been mysterious electrical problems for months -- mostly, I noticed, after driving on my friend's bumpy dirt driveway. Then suddenly Monday, Birch and I are tooling along Tunnel Road when -- SPARKS! SMOKE! HOLY CRAP -- FLAMES!!!! All shooting out from under the hood.

The engine died. Then it restarted. Then it died again. We were in the middle of the intersection trying to turn onto Riceville Road to get to my friend's house -- she of the Bumpy Driveway -- to pick up my daughter. A man in an electrician's truck shouts "Your car's on fire!" and I totally respond with this only-slightly-less-rude "No shit, dude!" sort of answer (which I later regretted). I got the engine to start again and pulled off the road into the parking lot of a Rite-Aid. Then we jump out of the flaming chariot, I pop the hood and Electrician Guy jumps out of his truck and -- I'm not making this up -- beats out the fire with a rag.

Seriously. Birch and I were ready to run and hide behind the nearest dumpster, and this total stranger jumps in and puts the fire out for me. Wow. He also disconnected the battery for us. How decent is that? Then he made sure we had AAA or something and drove off into the sunset.

The day just got weirder. We ended up spending a few hours in that parking lot after one dead cell phone; a couple of big, fat, time-consuming mix ups with AAA; a siren-blaring visit from the very-adorable guys of Fire Station #8, and finally the arrival of A.) My friend of the Bumpy Driveway and the Helpful Toddler Brigade (i.e. my daughter and her son), and B.) a super-helpful tow truck driver who actually just went on and replaced the battery for me right then and there.

Turns out that if Electrician Guy had not jumped in there and put the fire out when he did, either the engine would have been ruined OR the entire car would have just burned to the ground. So...THANK YOU Electrician Guy!!! I have no idea what your name is or even the name of the company you work for, but THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart!

Oh...did I mention that that same afternoon the wheel almost fell off my husband's truck? He almost didn't make it home. 3 out of the 5 lug nuts on one of his wheels were just GONE. Just like that. It was really strange.

So the next day, I call AAA again to get the truck towed to the shop. They LOVED that. And guess what? They sent out the SAME tow truck driver. When he called me to verify that he was coming, he asked "You're not having battery trouble again, are you ma'am?"

This Year

According to my friend's sun sign horoscope book, this year (as in the 42nd year of my life) is supposed to be a crux. This is, in many ways, supposed to be the single most important year of my life, as far as learning and evolving. Wow...talk about big expectations.

But it does feel big to me. I can't say why really. I've liked the number 42 ever since I was in college and my friend and I painted that number (along with a lot of really bad artwork) onto the side of her little gray Honda because it is The Answer to The Question in the "Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy."

You know...The Question. As in, "what is the meaning of life?"

Anyway, I can't say how this is going to be such a big year...I can't see any tangible evidence of the possiblity of significant growth...or anything else, really. However, we do have some interesting plans in the works:

THE BIG LIGHTS OUT EXPERIMENT:
Inspired by a random blog (which I can't remember the name of now, or I would post the link) detailing the interesting benefits of living with only the light of the sun and candles, our family is going to try 3 days of no artificial lights. None whatsoever. Not even the refrigerator light! If all goes well, we will extend that experiment in the more light-rich summer months.

THE BIG FAST:
Even though I'm still nursing (only a little, but still...) Scott and I are going to do a gentle -- as in For Whimps and Nursing Mothers Only -- cleanse and juice fast together over a weekend. I know I can't go hardcore with it (which I actually enjoy -- I'm a sicko, I know) but I am looking forward to it as a boost to my physical health, which feels like it has been steadily sliding downhill since I got pregnant with V three years ago.

THE Y
We are joining the Y, man. Yep. YMCA. I've avoided it for years because I thought I'd never use the membership (which isn't cheap). And we really can't afford it. Okay. No. I mean we REALLY can't afford it. BUT I finally realized this: The Y has free childcare. And a sauna. And a heated swimming pool. Enough said.

LEARNING TO CROCHET
This is so sexy, I know...I am totally taking a crochet class at the community college. I know it's that thing that grandmas do and it's something that people can apparently teach themselves just from being near other people that crochet, but I am severely Yarn Impaired and I just can't seem to pick it up. So I am taking a class. And I am STOKED! I mean, seriously, I am psyched like I just won a trip to Hawaii or something. I know....sexy, right?

Happy New Year!

Making Maeve

This is Maeve. She is the Waldorf "heavy doll" I made for Veda's Christmas gift. Making this "simple" doll was waaayyy more complicated than I had anticipated, but it was very rewarding and enjoyable as well.

I made her from raw sheep's wool that I cleaned and carded, pieces of cotton fabric from an old t-shirt and wool yarn. The hair was very labor-intensive! I wound wool yarn around a rectangular piece of cardboard, taped the sides with painters tape to hold it in place, cut the loops on the sides and stitched down the middle. Then I had to hand-sew each strip onto her head. It took forever!

Her head is a ton of tightly packed wool. Her body contains wool and some lentils to give her weight. I made the clothes from an old t-shirt. I also made her a little wool hat from an old sweater and a backpack so Veda can carry her around like a baby.

Most of the instructions I found in this book, but I had to look up how to make the hair online. I also added the lentils myself because I wanted her to have weight.

Homemade Holidays

Completely amazing dollhouse made by my father.

My big, fat Christmas dinner - kickin' it old school.

Snow People on Christmas!

The tree with gifts

Our Winter Solstice altar

This year, for the first time in a decade, I stayed home for Christmas.

Usually we drive either to Florida or Indiana (and trust me, NOBODY should be driving to Northern Indiana in December!) to visit family. But stress and craziness of all the traveling always leaves me feeling utterly wiped out - mentally and physically. So this year we opted to have a quiet holiday.

We celebrated the winter solstice with a fine meal, gifts and candle lighting, as we always do. Then my son left to go to Florida with his father, which made me sad. But I decided that Veda, Scott and I would do our best to enjoy Christmas this year, even with one of our flock missing.

And Christmas...it was truly wonderful! We awoke on Christmas morning to fresh snow...and it continued snowing all day. I cooked a big, traditional dinner...just took my time since nobody cared when we ate. We build a Snow Daddy and Snow Baby. We went sledding. We sat around and did absolutely nothing. Heaven!

We gave simple gifts...almost all handmade. Scott made me a beautiful pasta drying rack from oak. I made Veda a Waldorf doll I had sewn. She also received a doll house that my father made by hand from pieces of the old oak tree from my parents' backyard.

San Francisco

Inka, Kim and Kim's aunt (who officiated the wedding) during the ceremony

Veda looked lovely in her sparkly red dress. Too bad she had to be physically removed by Scott and missed the entire ceremony due to her siren-like shrieking.

Silvio was the ringbearer

The wedding cake -- it was quite delicious!

The newlyweds roasting in the sun after the ceremony

Birch and Kim's son Silvio running with the wild pack of kids that took over China Camp after the ceremony.

Birch being Birch in front of the Chinatown Gate in San Francisco

Chilling inside an ancient redwood tree in Muir Woods

My sistah Kim took us to the airport for the trip home

The new tattoo Kim gave me the night before we left

We just returned from our first actual vacation together as a family! We went to San Francisco for my friend Kim's wedding. I'm lucky to have close friends that live in excellent vacation spots!

Birch and I had been out there before to visit Kim and her son Silvio, but Scott had never been to California at all, and it was our first long airplane trip together with Veda (although I have quite a bit of hard-won experience in that area in a solo capacity...I travel a lot with one or both kids to visit grandparents).

The 6-7 hours of flying time and 2-3 hours of layovers each way was...errr...challenging, to say the least. Anyone with a 2-year-old knows that long trips with time changes, routine changes and lots of sitting still are not so fun for the active toddler (or the toddler's parents, or anyone else in the near vicinity).

But the trip...oh, the trip! I SO miss traveling! It was so incredible to spend 4 days seeing new sights and experiencing new things with my family. Sooooo good to get away from our routine. And the wedding itself was inspiring...

Kim and her new wife Inka live on boats in Galilee Harbor, an artsy, progressive houseboat community in Sausalito with a history that goes back to the hippie days of the 1960's. During our stay we got to participate in the wedding celebration with their amazing group of dynamic and fascinating friends. We were given one friend's entire apartment to use during out stay and were given rides to and from the airport and all the wedding activities by other friends, each with their own incredible life story.

September

Apple peeling time!

This is my favorite month! When I was a kid, I'm pretty sure it was because of my birthday (Sept. 24). Well, heck, it's probably still because of my birthday. But there's more to it now...

Growing up in Florida, there was, of course, no change of seasons, except the change from Tourist Season to Not-So-Much Tourist Season. As far as the weather went, we had hurricane season and then the rest of the year. Temperature-wise, things went from Unbelievably Hot and Humid (summer) to Slightly Less Hot and Humid (not summer) with a rare freeze here and there to keep us on our toes.

Here in NC, we have these magical in-betweens called fall and spring and then the extremes of summer and winter. I love September the best because it's when the heat gradually begins to fade and you can feel fall coming, although it's not quite here. Still nice and warm, but not horribly hot. The nights cool down. Clear days become brilliant and the mountains stand out proudly from a tart blue sky, flashing the last of their green hues before putting on the browns and reds of autumn.

Oh, and the flowers and fruit! We get blue asters in September..and cosmos. And then there are the apples. I never cared much about apples when I lived in Florida, but now we have an annual ritual of picking apples then peeling them and making apple sauce, apple butter, apple pies...all that good stuff.

Although I do consider myself a person more inclined to tropical climates and I dream of someday living on a warm, sunny island, I know that if and when I leave here I will miss the texture of the seasons. Every September, I'll feel wistful for that first bit of chill in the air, the ritual of setting up the apple peeler in the kitchen, the cheering sight of that certain brisk shade of blue sky...

Can It!

I am almost embarrassed to admit that part of me still wants to title this post "A Fig to Thee!" That's so sad. It just strikes me as funny in a nerdy Lit Major sort of way. Ah, well...on to the story....

I am addicted to canning. It's crazy. I started canning jam about 10 years ago because we always went blueberry-picking up on the Blue Ridge Parkway every summer and I needed something to do with our loot besides blueberry pie, blueberry pancakes, blueberry muffins...you get the picture. So I started making jam...and it was good. I graduated to peaches and then to apple butter and eventually got into making some pretty tasty salsa, if I do say so myself (with lots of garlic and cilantro...not as spicy as my father-in-law would prefer).

I've done that same stuff more or less every summer for years. But this summer, I started experimenting. I had a bigger garden this year than I've had in awhile. And my mom has an absolutely awe-inspiring collection of antique cookbooks. So using a combination of the internet and a bunch of pickling recipes from the late 1800's (using measurements such as "a teacup of sugar" and "a lump of alum the size of a walnut" etc.) I started making a bunch of fun stuff.

So far this season, I've done chow chow, dilly green tomatoes, kosher dill pickles, dill pickles (those are for my dad), salsa verde (TONS of tomatilloes this year!), peach salsa, peach jam, peach chutney, pickled jalapenoes, pepperoncini, tomatoes, pickled onions and today, the aforementioned figs. I still plan to get a few blueberries and, of course, make some apple butter...maybe a bit more peach jam before all the peaches are gone for the year.

There are so many cool things about canning -- besides its obvious edgy rock star appeal, of course. Here are a few reasons to get canning: 1.) If you keep your jars from year to year and grow your own produce, it's a great money-saver. 2.) Homemade stuff tastes amazing (unless you are a horrible cook) and there is nothing more uplifting on a miserable, grey February day than to break out a jar of last summer's goodness. 3.) It is a huge ego-boost to give someone a jar of your jam and have them gush about how crafty and smart you are to make YOUR OWN JAM! and...4.) possibly the most compelling reason...The jars look incredibly beautiful lined up in your pantry.

I will admit...after I can a batch of something...after the sticky, infernal mess is finally cleaned up and the canning stuff put away...my favorite, favorite thing to do is...is...is...to fondle my jars. Yes. I am a jar fondler. I love to pick them up and examine them, hold them tight. Ahhh...my riches. I feel rich in preserved food. Lining them up on the pantry shelf is a ritual. Each jar is carefully placed and admired, moved around, admired again. Is this just me? I think not. Surely everyone who invests the time and energy into growing, picking, cleaning and preserving a harvest feels this way.

the way august is...

This is such a dragging-your-feet month...It is the end of summer. School is about to start. The garden is on the wane and, believe it or not, many of us are already stressing about holiday travel plans and such seemingly far-in-the-future questions as how we're going to make it through the financial and emotional crush of another long winter.

I love August. I love the fat, hot August moon. I love the slow evenings in the backyard with bonfires and conversation, snacking on green beans we just pulled from the vines. But it always feels like the end of a lovely thing.

Of course, part of this is a seasonal thing, but it is also, sadly, imposed by the school schedule. This annoys me no end. When Birch was very small, I always saw us as homeschoolers. I wanted our learning to ebb and flow with our energy and the seasons and the demands of our lives. But things turned out differently for myriad reasons and here we are kowtowing to the aggravating and unforgiving demands of "tardy policies," "vacations" and "attendance policies" that are set by people in suits that are far and away from the rhythms of our lives here in our little urban farmstead paradise.

Now, I hesitate to complain, mind you. Really, we are incredibly fortunate because my son is able to attend an absolutely amazing environmental charter school with a curriculum that comes straight out of my most Earth-conscious, peace-mongering, community-loving hippie dream. His teachers are phenomenal, dynamic people that constantly challenge the students to question what they are taught and search for their own answers. Every week, they go on amazing field trips to hike in forests, camp out, raft rivers, investigate natural areas and artistic communities, etc. But still...

Part of me wishes that we could homeschool...that we could create our own learning system. School has been such an enormous benefit to my son, that it would take a huge leap for me to pull him out of that wonderful learning community. I have a lot of soul searching to do as Veda approaches school-age...

Ahhh...summer

These photos are a couple weeks old...need to take new ones! Things have grown at least 2 feet since then! Above is one of the raised beds with peppers, wax beans, basil , potatoes and carrots.

The chicken tractor before the chickens moved in. Again...need to update photos!

To the right are tomatoes and potatoes, to the left are tomatilloes, patty pan squash, pole beans and sweet potatoes.

The 4th of July is this weekend and we are soaking up every moment of this beautiful summer. I love how the lazy days unfold around here for the kids and I. On these quiet, peaceful days I so, so appreciate that we are crafting a life centered around our home and garden and the sacrifices that we make in order to have that life seem worth so worth it.

In the mornings we roll out of bed whenever our bodies tell us it's time. No schedule orders us to move out at a specific time. But when we do get up we are eager to begin the day. Birch runs outside as soon as he wakes up to feed and water the chickens, and Veda usually accompanies him. I fix a breakfast of fresh eggs and whatever else we have on hand. Then we usually all end up down in the garden to give it some love...squashing the squash bugs (sorry, squash bugs...not much love for you!), pulling weeds and harvesting whatever is ripe.

Sometimes we have errands to run or bread to bake or other busy things to do. But some days we go to a park or the library or just hang out being lazy, taking walks or playing until Veda's naptime rolls around after lunch.

I'll never forget all our summers. Even before I met Scott, even before I had Veda and moved to Asheville, once I went freelance and gave up the Rat Race, Birch and I have had these lazy, gorgeous garden and porch summers that seem to amble on on like a good slow song.

I am grateful to Scott for supporting this aspect of our lives...for getting up in the dark and going to a job he doesn't like every single day so Veda can spend her afternoons running naked in the backyard and playing with butterflies. So I can spend summer days canning salsa from our tomatoes and making pickles from our cucumbers. And I'm grateful that he is willing to never have any money and live so close to the bone so life can be so rich for us in other ways.

We are fortunate indeed.

river day

Sunshine baby

Throwing stones into the river on our hike on the Warren Wilson River Trail.

Some of my nettle harvest drying in the kitchen.

Veda has been crazy about rivers lately, so this morning we took a trip out to the trail that runs along the Swannanoa River on the campus of Warren Wilson College. We hiked out for 15 or 20 minutes then settled down on a little bank that was covered with sweet, blue butterflies. Veda immediately wanted to get in the water, so it was off with the clothes and she went straight in. Such a good time...we need to do a "river day" at least once a week. :-)



I went by myself yesterday to the bank of the French Broad River, but with more of a purpose than just fun in the sun. I had heard that I could find stinging nettle there...and, yes, there were FIELDS of it! Not something you'd want to encounter by accident, I guess, but for me it was a bonanza. I harvested a huge shopping bag full of beautiful, vibrant green nettle to dry for my daily tea.

Inspiration

Mother's Day at Craggy Gardens.

Inspiration...it's everywhere. Too bad there is never enough time in the day to take advantage of it all! Case in point: I had to admit a sort of defeat with my Poem a Day for a Month project.

NOTE TO SELF: Never vow to create a poem a day for a month during a month when you have a child on spring break and two different sets of relatives visiting.


At any rate, I will eventually write enough "make-up poems" to finish out the month...but it will take time, of course. I do believe, however, that ultimately the project was a success because the first couple of weeks where I actually did write a poem a day were phenomenal. I mean, I had seriously forgotten that I was capable of creative writing...of taking the plain old, nothing special moments of everyday life and assigning to them words that evoke images and feelings. Of course, I didn't always do that (which is obvious if you've read the poems! ha!) but there were moments...there were sparks.


This morning, I was talking to my amazing friend Virginia while our insane toddlers hurled themselves with abandon around the slides and swing sets at Oakley Park, and through the child-watching frenzy (only the parent of a toddler can relate to this) we were able to chat a little about being a mom and the creative process.


Virginia does a fascinating radio program and blog (check her out at http://www.systemiceffect.org/) that takes an enormous amount of time and energy, and she does it while also being a very devoted and conscious single mama. I bemoaned my inability to paint or write or sew or do ANYTHING not directly related to homemaking and childcare for more than a few paltry minutes snatched here and there from sleep time or family time. She agreed, and said that she finds herself to actually be most content when she is devoting herself entirely to being a mom and keeping a clean, orderly household. But, she is driven to create. She is driven to put her voice out there in the universe. And so she goes without sleep...or makes herself a little bit crazier by struggling constantly to carve out time for her work.


She inspired me. So now, I am cutting this short-ish so I can go work on my latest painting. I need it.

Poem for April 27

Big gap here in the poetry...things have been busy, to say the least. So, now I'll be playing catch-up for awhile.

there are poems to write
and images of eggplants
and goddesses that need

translation
into the wet, vibrant
language of paint
and canvas.

there is wool to be felted,
quilts to be sewn, beer
unbrewed, money somewhere
to be made.

but it all must wait
for now,
my hands are full

with my child
in the heart
of childhood.

April 19 and SO FAR BEHIND!!!

I'm not giving up. I'm still going to write a poem for each day of this month. But it is definitely taking some time.

I've realized something important...there is great truth to what Alice Walker said when I saw her speak a few years back in Hickory: Writers need TIME. In order to write, you must have a lot of down time. You must have a lot of alone time. You must have time that to others looks suspiciously like loafing, but which is really the incubator for creativity.

Without time to stroll around your yard talking to trees, time to sit perfectly still and stare aimlessly at the moon, time to lean back against a wall and feel the cool of the earth against your legs...without this, the brain has no time to process images...to do that alchemy that is turning an impression into words.

And sadly folks, this is a thing I do not have right now. My days fly by in a whirlwind of sleepless nights, meal-cooking, laundry-doing, question-answering, tadpole water-changing, boo-boo kissing, kid-ferrying, toddler-cajoling insanity. I careen from one needy person to another administering love and food and occasional reprimands and by the end of each very long day, after all the little monsters are tucked in their beds, I crumple into a shapeless heap on the sofa, barely a single brain cell sputtering.

This, my friends, is the stuff of life and often the stuff of inspiration, but it doesn't allow me to write a poem every single freakin' day for crying out loud! (((sigh)))

Alas, I shall perservere. One day I will actually get to my goal and have a full April of poems here for all to read and enjoy or else grimace at.

So...poem for April 15 is this:

Do you know what this is?
asks my neighbor's daughter
who is three. I look at her
etch-a-sketch with one square
and one rectangle one
inside the other, and I say,
It's a building.

Well, no, she says, of course
not. So, preoccupied
with grownup things, I mumble,
It's a box, because that is what
I see. But her sea-green eyes crackle
with mirth at my stupidity
and she patiently explains,

Noooo,
It is a robot tummy.

And so it is.
She is absolutely right.
And for just one moment
her fairy hands have pulled
me, dark and ponderous,
back into the light
of childhood.

Poem for April 14

Ack! Still a day behind. Story of my life...always playing catch up.

This morning, thanks to a cool story on NPR, I learned that coincidentally April is National Poetry Month! How apropos. Obviously the National Poetry People found out about this blog and decided to make a national observance in its honor. Or not. Funny that I had no idea about that when I came up with the idea to do this (originally considered a "good" idea and now considered a "what the hell was I thinking?" idea).

The NPR story was also interesting because they had some lady from the National Poetry People Thingie read some favorite poems by some amazing poets that I didn't all catch because my toddler was repeatedly telling me "no" about breakfast and my son was complaining about having to do carpool. One thing I did catch was some poems by William Stafford, whom I used to read a million years ago, but have since forgotten about. Ah..the craftsmanship! The skullduggery of his words. Inspiring...and terrifying...to someone who who loves the art but putters pathetically with it.

And so, on with The Show...


There are days -
whole days -
that are a frog in the throat,

a pencil with the eraser
chewed off,
a spoiled pear.

There are days
that are two flat tires
in the rain with no spare,

a pimple on the end
of your nose or a worried
hangnail that won't come off.

I sigh through them,
these stingy days, or yell
and burn the scrambled eggs.

Sometimes I cry
along with the babies when the sun
pulls up stakes for the night.

But it's all good in the end.
The sun comes shuffling
back, rubbing his eyes,

and I remember
that this is just where we are
and this is just what it is
in the here and now.

Poem for April 13

Behind again. Yesterday was insane. And Veda won't sleep...less than normal, even. Which means no free time or down time for mama. (((sigh))) On the bright side, we do have a bunch of new tadpoles in the family now...5 Japanese Firebellies and 1 Leopard frog who was a freebie from the pet store because he hitchhiked in with a school of goldfish.

Being not-quite-two,
the world is a full place
and sunshine endless.

April 12 Poem

Tired
feels like a dishrag
in a kitchen that feeds
a big family
who has no dishwasher:
frayed at the edges,
soft and holey
in the center,
and faded all over
from too much wear.

catching up...Poem for April 11

I miss that old place
up on the hill and way
out there in the middle
of nowhere.

that creek sang to me
like an eager lover
all night through open
wavy-glass windows.

the sweetgum trees sighed
and shook their heads
at my young, unrooted,
and artless ways.

It is joyous and sad that
without me the arrowheads
still doze beneath the pebbles
in the creekbed,

the winters still wrap
the dry hayfields
and proud little house
in a quilt of silence,

and spring still pops
each year like an imp
from behind the clouds
to claim it all in the name
of No One In Particular.