tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85344182943153889872024-02-06T20:42:47.056-08:00teawyfe timesKeller Hollow: Home of the Hippie HobbitsCharis-Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06256536761137911106noreply@blogger.comBlogger75125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8534418294315388987.post-80961222643880884582017-03-03T13:23:00.000-08:002017-03-03T13:23:26.515-08:00The Days Are Just Packed<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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On a whim, I logged into my old blog. Sitting there in a draft was an entry from exactly one year ago. It had these three pictures in it without any words attached. I tried to pick up my blog and didn't have a chance to follow through. I am not surprised. The world just keeps spinning faster. We have another two year old in the house. The last one I wrote about is five years old now. See that time jump? Well before another year slips by, I am going to post this entry, even with it's old pictures. Happy March 3rd! There must be something about this day of the year that makes me wonder about this old blog.</div>
<br />Charis-Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06256536761137911106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8534418294315388987.post-41854260991058191852014-02-02T06:00:00.000-08:002014-02-02T06:00:03.805-08:00Two / Two and "Twice the Much"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I cut the cake carefully to preserve his big googly eyes. She ate his cookie, "OMM, nom, nom, nom!"</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today is our sweet Zibby's 2nd birthday. As I alluded to in a previous post- this great personage in a small body has brought light into our lives just when things seemed too dark. As she has continued to grow from a baby into a toddler she has taught us that she is indeed a force to be reckoned with. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Zibs has more preferences, opinions, strength, tenacity, energy, and focus at her young age than any of her siblings at the same age. She is just more of everything and "twice-the-much," a term coined by Bubba while trying to explain a comparison like "twice as much." The term caught on in our house vernacular because it so aptly describes many things. It's also a connection to her sister, Boo, who we described as having, "much muchness." So if you can imagine "twice-the-much-muchness," then you're getting a good picture of our Zibs.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFCDlSiHxMiWyHMcHEnvdbhKuAJQFUnl9bHxSZf_n2eurK7Nb3fXLuHZ-iVrs5dKf0qgNj9vlHJ5EiDqvvKYwibQbU0XWfb4Pv0hJmqmXNyQ9PDvsVAecYXHpB54SmHth-gfPgFhlaMeTI/s1600/2013-07-30+18.46.32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFCDlSiHxMiWyHMcHEnvdbhKuAJQFUnl9bHxSZf_n2eurK7Nb3fXLuHZ-iVrs5dKf0qgNj9vlHJ5EiDqvvKYwibQbU0XWfb4Pv0hJmqmXNyQ9PDvsVAecYXHpB54SmHth-gfPgFhlaMeTI/s1600/2013-07-30+18.46.32.jpg" height="640" width="360" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This girl will drag a heavy two-step wooden stool across two rooms to reach something she has spied. She will not forget her last thought at night, i.e., where her tutu is, and will wake up and immediately seize it or ask for it if I thought I would be clever and wash it. She will engage total strangers by getting their attention and then scowling and making a sort of mad monkey face and unfriendly sound at them. She also dares grocery clerks to try and scan the item she is withholding from the cart before she screams. She's the cute baby that pushes, pinches, stomps and shoves your sweet baby and then comforts your baby with gentle patting or hugs. She's also quite capable on a weekly basis of dirtying a diaper precisely the moment <i>after</i> all the trash has been taken to the curb for collection. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Her ability to find trouble and danger accelerates as she grows tired. She climbs higher, throws harder, and gets louder the closer it is to bedtime. And she'll also surprise you, like last night, when we were brushing her teeth and she said she needed to go potty. I thought, "whatever, another empty exercise, but at least we need to change a diaper anyway." Some time later after many inquiries on my part from another room (because really, who likes to be stared at?), and many replies of, "I am still busy," she emerged victorious having actually done something worth flushing. We're not toilet training, because if it was my idea, she wouldn't do it. Real story.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She loves singing "The Itsy Bitsy Spider" complete with hand motions and loves the book, "Happy Hippo, Angry Duck" and enacting all the emotions. She's afraid of monsters, except Cookie Monster. She loves playing "Fee, Fi, Fo, Fum, I smell a gingerbread baby, come dearie, come!" If you miss toes on one foot, she'll make sure you come back to nibble them. She loves pretending to sleep in the car seat while uttering, "honk-shoo, honk-shoo." She tells you she loves you in the most sincere way and has such a great ability to lump onto your shoulder and just cuddle. She gets upset when grandparents leave, and so very, very excited when Daddy comes in the back door. We are so blessed and sometimes caught off guard by her. Anyway, here come the twos, ready or not!</span><br />
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Charis-Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06256536761137911106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8534418294315388987.post-65504973425090988702013-12-23T14:06:00.001-08:002013-12-23T14:06:29.445-08:00Celebrations of Light<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Warning: Longest Blog Post Ever....</h3>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large; font-weight: normal;">"And God said, 'Let there be lights in the expanse of the heavens to separate the day from the night. And let them be for signs and seasons, and for days and years, and let them be lights in the expanse of the heavens to give light upon the earth.' And it was so. And God made the two great lights- the greater light to rule the day and the lesser light to rule the night- and the stars. And God set them in the expanse of the heavens to give light on the earth, to rule over the day and over the night, and to separate the light from the darkness. And God saw that it was good." Genesis 1:14-18</span></h4>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;">If it weren't for homeschooling I don't think I would have appreciated this passage as much as I do now. I believe we were created to depend on the Light of the World and that light is in His Creation. And He wants us to see the light, depend on it, and appreciate it as a fact of His Divine Order. But I didn't know how to do that as a modern gal with electricity, other than as an intellectual exercise. Enter educating kids at home. Enter researching educational philosophies that jive with my vision of the world and it's potential reflected in my children. Enter in traditions from around the globe and through time. Now I am starting to get a small idea of how important it is to celebrate the light and for our family, to celebrate The Light. </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sometimes adopting celebrations means dabbling here and there across cultures and across belief systems: we take what we can see as Truth and leave the rest.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://ourseasonsofjoy.com/circle/martinmas-circle/" target="_blank">A link to a Waldorf Circle</a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;">The first observation we practice is Martinmas, November 10th. The story of Saint Martin in a nutshell: A Roman soldier riding through the city gates on a cold winter night notices a beggar, near naked and hungry. Martin dismounts from his horse and divides his cloak in two, giving half to the cold man and then taking him to get something to eat. Later that night, Martin has a dream that it was Christ himself that he shared his cloak with and fed. We are reminded that when we serve those deemed the least in the world, we are serving our Lord. Over time this came to be a practice in Martin's example of bringing light to those in darkness, to share what we have with those who have less, to keep light alive. We observe this by making lanterns to carry on a walk- spreading light just as the days seem to be lengthening and getting colder.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Sunlight fast is dwindling, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My little lamp needs kindling. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's beam shines bright on darkest night, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dear lantern guide me with your light.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then we share cider and treats together and discuss how we can help the needy in our community. Parents discuss pacing ourselves as we go into winter and how our inner light gets taxed as the darkness gets thicker. We brainstorm ways to fight the challenges that come with little sun, both mentally and physically. For our family it is a reminder to rely on The Light, not our own strength.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">St. Lucia Day</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Our next celebration is Saint Lucia Day. Saint Lucia was a martyr in Italy and a saint adopted by Sweden. The basics of her story is that in the midst of famine and deep winter, she sailed to Sweden bringing food. In order to have two hands to serve, she put candles on her head. We visit family early in the morning bringing gingerbread scones (our own riff on the traditional Lusekatter buns and gingerbread cookies). Her saint day used to fall closer to winter solstice and was combined with Norse traditions. We have a lot of fun with this day, especially my daughters who love to carry candles (battery powered) and wear the white gown. They bring their good cheer (and sunny morning dispositions, lol) to waken relatives with light in the early morning dark, and with food symbolic of St. Lucia's mission to Sweden. As our kids grow older, I hope they internalize this holiday as a day of self-initiation and serving others.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We sing:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Santa Lucia, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thy light is glowing,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Through darkest winter night,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Comfort bestowing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dreams float on wings of night,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Comes then the morning light,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Santa Lucia, Santa Lucia</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This picture shows lanterns being used, but we use candles. <a href="http://www.beansproutec.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/spiral.jpg" target="_blank">Link to example of a Solstice Spiral Walk</a></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Winter Solstice</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Our friends set up a giant spiral of evergreen branches in their backyard. With a small bonfire surrounded by stumps for seats and the smell of yummy soups drifting from the house, we wait by the spiral allowing each child to take their turn. Carrying an unlit candle inserted in an apple as a holder, each child walks the spiral into the center where a big candle is lit. They light their candle from the center one and then as they walk out of the spiral, they can choose where to put their candle down. What starts as darkness quickly becomes a mini galaxy of lights as the children's line nears completion. It is truly beautiful and defies capture on my own phone's camera. Afterward we read a poem together:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Down with darkness, up with light,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Up with sunshine, down with Night.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Each of us is one small light</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But together we shine bright.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Go away darkest, blackest night,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Go away, give way to light.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the pagan tradition a Solstice observation would be a prayer to the sun to come back. For us, it is a reminder of the need for sun, for light, for the Son of God, for the Light of the World to come to earth and save us from darkness. He made the sun and for us the celebration of Solstice is a celebration tied to Christmas, waiting for the birth of the Son, and the creation of the world that depends on Him. The world is beautifully made, but in it's fallen state (impending darkness) all of Creation groans, waiting "...to be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God...And not only creation, but we ourselves, who... groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies." Romans 8:21-23. Winter Solstice can be a reminder that we wait for redemption by our Redeemer. This is an interesting read: <a href="http://themercyblog.blogspot.com/2009/12/all-creation-cries-to-you.html" target="_blank">The Mercy Blog</a></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> <a href="http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/736x/4f/92/55/4f9255ba1f30412445b3ffca29e37f5e.jpg" target="_blank">Sample observance</a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Throughout December we light candles every Sunday around our Advent wreath. I am just discovering the rich traditions around celebrating the season of Advent, so our observance is very simple. We have a wreath with four candles on the outside and one in the center (to be lit on Christmas). The 4 outer candles represent: Hope, Preparation, Joy, and Love. For each corresponding week of Advent we light the candle of the week and the previous weeks until all are lit on Christmas. We talk about our hope and anticipation of a Savior, how we can prepare our hearts for him, the joy we have because of Him, and the love He gives us. We light each candle with a verse:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Light the Advent candle one, now the waiting has begun</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hope fill our hearts upon our way, time to think of
Christmas day </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Candle, candle burning bright, shining in the darkest night </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Candle, candle burning bright, fill our hearts with
Christmas light.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Light the Advent candle two, think of humble shepherds who </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Heard from angels, wondrous sight, love the child was born
that night. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Candle, candle burning bright, in the darkness of the night </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Candle, candle burning bright, fill our hearts with
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Light the Advent candle three, think of joyful harmony </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Angels singing “Peace on Earth”, at the Blessed Saviour’s
birth. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Candle, candle burning bright, shining in the darkest night </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Candle, candle burning bright, fill our hearts with
Christmas light. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Light the Advent candle four, Peace on Earth forevermore </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Christ child in a stable born, Gift of love that Christmas
morn. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Candle, candle burning bright, shining in the darkest night.
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Candle, candle burning bright, fill our hearts with
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After Christmas is a time of quiet and slow waiting for the days to get longer. Candlemas or Ground Hog's day marks the halfway point between Solstice and the Vernal Equinox. It deserves a post too. We will always be celebrating it because it somebody's birthday and she definitely deserves a write up! She represents much joy and light to us through Grant's darker months of diagnosis and surgery. God saw that she was very good to send to us!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span>Charis-Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06256536761137911106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8534418294315388987.post-3749619721367547882013-12-20T20:19:00.000-08:002013-12-20T20:19:26.468-08:00Late Fall Wrap Up<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today, the last day of Autumn, the first real snow has fallen and our company's plows are out in operation.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Just like that, I realize another season has flown by. I love fall so much and am always sad to let it go. Here are a few pictures to sum up October through now.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhajEUSrq2IFVcbFnXV0Xy4ECVR75wkuPS0J1x_v8Jesm6PangNjBLRoDr8xWCmU5d-hARtu4WiUXaXtdynUuXkJZLUtlydneeBG2bUEwG9uoPrm6QpaNEDUyVkpuaHA8iLP9VTnGiNhUUF/s1600/2013-11-01+16.07.38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhajEUSrq2IFVcbFnXV0Xy4ECVR75wkuPS0J1x_v8Jesm6PangNjBLRoDr8xWCmU5d-hARtu4WiUXaXtdynUuXkJZLUtlydneeBG2bUEwG9uoPrm6QpaNEDUyVkpuaHA8iLP9VTnGiNhUUF/s640/2013-11-01+16.07.38.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I love the low light in Fall. The way it comes through our windows in the afternoon helps me see all the dust bunnies under the furniture!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBZkcEvSeeyYGokzte1vol-rZvNH56CZW6o9N_TOe5JjbvAEH3J8JuyaMMmqITBQR51dMl7Ua6CJNzxlaGEWS1ZvEx4afxEwIG1fG0V1BAfU-vsz36opBgbNBGkpX9rth41_C7JomGTiY0/s1600/2013-10-26+10.52.28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBZkcEvSeeyYGokzte1vol-rZvNH56CZW6o9N_TOe5JjbvAEH3J8JuyaMMmqITBQR51dMl7Ua6CJNzxlaGEWS1ZvEx4afxEwIG1fG0V1BAfU-vsz36opBgbNBGkpX9rth41_C7JomGTiY0/s640/2013-10-26+10.52.28.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">For a brief time as the leaves change color, our dining room windows give us the feeling of living in an enchanted land.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKte_rKNqo6Kay01hq7F-qTDya0AnfgJEYqjkYgna2pr1x5ngrjGfw9de-F5mzxdkAPCNX-0XIg2JR97U38UXFDJsCfa3XJAtDpKX1EgZ-CM55zd_W23Q_-lRgz_jjNRbQkCUk94GVQFXL/s1600/2013-10-29+11.44.55.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKte_rKNqo6Kay01hq7F-qTDya0AnfgJEYqjkYgna2pr1x5ngrjGfw9de-F5mzxdkAPCNX-0XIg2JR97U38UXFDJsCfa3XJAtDpKX1EgZ-CM55zd_W23Q_-lRgz_jjNRbQkCUk94GVQFXL/s640/2013-10-29+11.44.55.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">As the weather gets cooler, the Lego playing warms up.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7DJW0sOnRl7A9SwqpNPTogl-BRN3UtCDDG-RN795AciSGCu-yX9rNXBIpmzZTyB92h_cidfqNprV44EnCwLVKc2olNKyUX3DyFcsF1vuFKTpnEBJR03DPw71FQ9zdtBhyCvlnI_w5dKM0/s1600/2013-11-02+14.51.07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7DJW0sOnRl7A9SwqpNPTogl-BRN3UtCDDG-RN795AciSGCu-yX9rNXBIpmzZTyB92h_cidfqNprV44EnCwLVKc2olNKyUX3DyFcsF1vuFKTpnEBJR03DPw71FQ9zdtBhyCvlnI_w5dKM0/s640/2013-11-02+14.51.07.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">"Mom, play blocks with me?!" Then as I proceed to build, he needs every block I pick up for his creation.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUecRl7BR4IF6ev3x02ZEQPVUoB4p_FTep1IeCsr0zptDdxWAMa4ZCTuUBJOC5o0WxaKMeIiFTabEB0sesuZQywaErgaUmtrjcZ3smg8dmiolrrEuK5YIp7KMZJQTv03npcQvM65n68IT6/s1600/2013-10-29+14.42.58.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUecRl7BR4IF6ev3x02ZEQPVUoB4p_FTep1IeCsr0zptDdxWAMa4ZCTuUBJOC5o0WxaKMeIiFTabEB0sesuZQywaErgaUmtrjcZ3smg8dmiolrrEuK5YIp7KMZJQTv03npcQvM65n68IT6/s640/2013-10-29+14.42.58.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">After a walk in the backwoods, Fairy Girl discovers some mushrooms growing near Douglas Firs.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXotuaEDCDlyEhNrznvg-QacPSuTm7I8WWQGmn1Z0AV0Ujlztbidrumwc76qiN8A3HHy8yRrekH46XqSuMMW3RshB4nEXzPjIwU2daiNkGK8K-NuQiOv7m6FSDbvEXNEi0MxUxuK9I3P5h/s1600/2013-11-01+10.54.32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXotuaEDCDlyEhNrznvg-QacPSuTm7I8WWQGmn1Z0AV0Ujlztbidrumwc76qiN8A3HHy8yRrekH46XqSuMMW3RshB4nEXzPjIwU2daiNkGK8K-NuQiOv7m6FSDbvEXNEi0MxUxuK9I3P5h/s640/2013-11-01+10.54.32.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Ice Skating lessons last six weeks. Mom discovers that it is cold to sit and watch.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDL3E7i1aNKjF3XAycLGqPv73VpbzSAc5TE1ZCIT7RUaK4VcdkHEqLIcAbYMCZemUWfXRwh4Aussu6buMugJruAgy6SJJnQnOmpNUskEnRUjx4J-y6Y66zBV5aj4JXSSKNs73IXiL0-cq5/s1600/2013-11-08+09.46.22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDL3E7i1aNKjF3XAycLGqPv73VpbzSAc5TE1ZCIT7RUaK4VcdkHEqLIcAbYMCZemUWfXRwh4Aussu6buMugJruAgy6SJJnQnOmpNUskEnRUjx4J-y6Y66zBV5aj4JXSSKNs73IXiL0-cq5/s640/2013-11-08+09.46.22.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Walking through Riverfront Park on the way to skating lessons is a delight.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkElIEZCodq7e4mmNiAewf1XGlKdRordns9bUq43q0BPFnXYs5ZtBzRj0n0hl_aGEYARb4kOvBheemIEPt9G5JixMNCA0i8Dpj2CbGDzqYKGLtBJxOLx7bwhBYn-HBQFmE3ASXp667uBaB/s1600/2013-11-08+11.13.56.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkElIEZCodq7e4mmNiAewf1XGlKdRordns9bUq43q0BPFnXYs5ZtBzRj0n0hl_aGEYARb4kOvBheemIEPt9G5JixMNCA0i8Dpj2CbGDzqYKGLtBJxOLx7bwhBYn-HBQFmE3ASXp667uBaB/s640/2013-11-08+11.13.56.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I love our river view on the way to lessons!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcLt8p754RO6_radmQ_h5LEIpsDw6CXoJgUM-NmmOjy4XNpNWXtB8Gs9KG10jzNm2BbHJxxZuLRWr8KaCyY86KyoseNF2Rh5avHUeLR1bgIcZPaWCFsu80E6OAH-xslN0QKS5Bt20h_D9R/s1600/2013-11-08+17.49.45.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcLt8p754RO6_radmQ_h5LEIpsDw6CXoJgUM-NmmOjy4XNpNWXtB8Gs9KG10jzNm2BbHJxxZuLRWr8KaCyY86KyoseNF2Rh5avHUeLR1bgIcZPaWCFsu80E6OAH-xslN0QKS5Bt20h_D9R/s640/2013-11-08+17.49.45.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">This is the best picture I could get of our lantern walk for Martinmas. This is an annual event with friends at Cannon Hill Park.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAAhyuNJpxNr8JS_kVkl1-9O7MQ7X9WuF7M3gSt9kzKRwKHEeQOPUgTJ0K_-4eyZdAhDA333FwIHwLngUuz7B63gtL48VKWRhAKBhRssdbogj3k8EBCPQQ-0Ox0KqE5cxI0kycQydQ5WXj/s1600/2013-11-09+12.13.50.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAAhyuNJpxNr8JS_kVkl1-9O7MQ7X9WuF7M3gSt9kzKRwKHEeQOPUgTJ0K_-4eyZdAhDA333FwIHwLngUuz7B63gtL48VKWRhAKBhRssdbogj3k8EBCPQQ-0Ox0KqE5cxI0kycQydQ5WXj/s640/2013-11-09+12.13.50.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Walking on the old trails behind our house.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmWfoOfreXVroj4P7B3dpisJ63Fkb2UHAaj8ERakae-F0iESleFNgsOL2lpCYxdPDhyphenhyphenVNiN9Tx3D9xnfgXXLAatfta_BEIaNbZGBSw-596ghMJa3JJQ6ORGbBkXCBAFHAxvCXHwyTIEBTv/s1600/2013-11-09+12.16.39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmWfoOfreXVroj4P7B3dpisJ63Fkb2UHAaj8ERakae-F0iESleFNgsOL2lpCYxdPDhyphenhyphenVNiN9Tx3D9xnfgXXLAatfta_BEIaNbZGBSw-596ghMJa3JJQ6ORGbBkXCBAFHAxvCXHwyTIEBTv/s640/2013-11-09+12.16.39.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">We chased turkeys out of the woods and kept this souvenir.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ3lblkDJBp8DzFxzhaASldxFZyMsM51QUYv2wJVJTSvSz3O-jT5DKj6mDWmcVmgERfM0RZt3vm-DU_yNE0gzUqllVRz9nd7ZAVanM0wqyXJiqt-KnAdpXKZx0LApmKeL0AYzsY6Rb9ryv/s1600/2013-11-09+12.26.00.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ3lblkDJBp8DzFxzhaASldxFZyMsM51QUYv2wJVJTSvSz3O-jT5DKj6mDWmcVmgERfM0RZt3vm-DU_yNE0gzUqllVRz9nd7ZAVanM0wqyXJiqt-KnAdpXKZx0LApmKeL0AYzsY6Rb9ryv/s640/2013-11-09+12.26.00.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">The view through the woods (looking East).</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgds6WR45bPt2_c9tDMYw10_a6kVESMofSS1ycVH_1wGg9dkkvUjAEgvyie-56of0Rl3Tn7yo-TwWAVmOys4UteeImBC6GgcxRmehZRLRscVrHjRAwBcPAjWG99BaR_IgtZvqrkrF5DheX_/s1600/2013-11-09+12.38.00.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgds6WR45bPt2_c9tDMYw10_a6kVESMofSS1ycVH_1wGg9dkkvUjAEgvyie-56of0Rl3Tn7yo-TwWAVmOys4UteeImBC6GgcxRmehZRLRscVrHjRAwBcPAjWG99BaR_IgtZvqrkrF5DheX_/s640/2013-11-09+12.38.00.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">The leaves have all fallen off the maples and exposed the new beams for the future tree house.</span></td></tr>
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<br />Charis-Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06256536761137911106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8534418294315388987.post-71999062340064602472013-11-20T05:30:00.000-08:002013-11-20T05:30:00.749-08:00An Extraordinary Day.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.repfineart.com/content/styles/gallery_large/public/paintings/Mary-Cassatt-After-the-bath.jpg?itok=SFiRGPO7" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="408" src="http://www.repfineart.com/content/styles/gallery_large/public/paintings/Mary-Cassatt-After-the-bath.jpg?itok=SFiRGPO7" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Mary Cassatt, "After the Bath."</i></td></tr>
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It was Monday. At breakfast, Fairy Girl suggested we do something extraordinary with the day. All I wanted to do was clean house after the playful neglect of the weekend, but I racked my brain trying to think of something that would qualify as more than ordinary. That's right, the yarn shop. An old two story factory full of everything fiber related. That sounded fun, and just down the block was a coffee shop the kids had never been to. Wouldn't that qualify?<br />
<br />
Two hours later as we head toward the shop, I realized it's time to eat and proceeding to the shop with four hungry kids was asking for meltdowns. To be honest, I would probably meltdown faster than the kids, but it was their stomachs I was thinking about. I stopped at Chipotle. Found a table. The rest was a blur of impossible acoustics, bad service, food refusal by the four year old, asking stares from other customers, and BAM, mama was in no mood for an extraordinary day! Back in the car with the two youngest crying frustratingly from my embargo on chocolate milk, and the boy announcing triumphantly that he didn't want to go to the yarn shop anyway, I gave in to the pressure. That is, the pressure you feel when you have more than 2.5 kids, out in public during school hours. The pressure to make your counterculture family look shiny and perfectly coordinated.<br />
<br />
I started explaining this to anyone not crying and willing to listen in the back of the car (Fairy Girl). In our culture there are people who don't like kids. There are people who think they should be in school and not out and about living life at large unless it is a holiday. Even then, children are seen as a temporary nuisance that will soon be back under control by public and private institutions. Like it or not, we are ambassadors for homeschoolers. Yeah, I know toddlers and preschoolers shouldn't be held hostage to any idea like that. But I just don't want to give those naysayers anything to say about us. Ugh. Then I explained how I didn't want to care about naysayers because I really like our lifestyle and I believe what we are doing is beautiful and good. <br />
<br />
I am almost thirty-six and I am still learning to throw off societal expectations. You know, be the family no one suspects of going against the grain because we look so normal and non threatening. I do my part not to dress in denim jumpers or let my son wear snow boots year round. (That really bothers some people!) But could my children please be the paragon of cooperation when we are in public, even if it's developmentally inappropriate to expect?<br />
<br />
Fairy Girl said, "You have given me a lot to think about. About stuff I never really considered." I replied, "well that's why I am bringing it up." But I was guilty. I was feeling so hypocritical. Conform, don't conform, resent it, fight it, but still service it? What's up with these insecurities? Mama needed to sort things out.<br />
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A couple of miles later while I was still feeling like a bag of poo because I was wrapped up in appearances, Fairy Girl asks, "Mom, what are your top priorities for your time on this planet?"<br />
<br />
The brakes in my mind screeched. Yeah, my current thoughts were definitely not lining up with what I would say are my priorities in life. I fumbled to find words. I got something out like, "that's a really important question," still trying to buy time. But then she jumped in first.<br />
"Mine are: making my Mom and Dad proud, helping others, and doing the best I can with what I have."<br />
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My eyes welled up. Bubba interjected something and my chance to respond disappeared. All I could think was, "I am humbled. How beautiful are her intentions! But I hope she doesn't live her life to try and make me and Grant proud of her. We are so full of flaws and, as I demonstrated thoroughly today, insecurities that I hope really hard don't thwart her true calling." I have baggage and I don't want to pass it on to my kids. They are hard-wired to learn everything they can from us. We've got to hold the space for them despite ourselves. The spiritual journey of parenting transforms us if we allow it. I want to be an authentic Mama. I thank God for sending Fairy Girl to remind me.<br />
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<br />Charis-Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06256536761137911106noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8534418294315388987.post-1278452150372096332013-11-01T05:30:00.000-07:002013-11-01T05:30:00.668-07:00Autumn in Earnest<h2>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elderberries and tomato</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<i>Yellow the bracken, golden the sheaves</i></div>
<i><div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Rosy the apples, crimson the leaves,</i></div>
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<i>Mist on the hillside, clouds grey and white,</i></div>
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<i>Autumn good morning, Summer good night.</i></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The beginning of fall is always rich with the harvest of summer coupled with the anticipation of the leaves changing. That is the"morning" of Autumn. We have worked our way into the afternoon of the season. The garden is roto-tilled, the sunflowers pulled out, the perennials stunted and the annuals turned brown. Beautiful days starting in fog are almost all gone. Now are the cold days followed by below freezing nights. The rain and wind knock the color down from the trees, but I still try to remember the gilded parks and streets.</span></span><br />
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Charis-Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06256536761137911106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8534418294315388987.post-27928688303088577442013-10-31T05:30:00.000-07:002013-10-31T05:30:03.495-07:00Sunday Evenings<div>
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Sundays became family days long ago. Recently, creative urges have compelled us to paint together or carve pumpkins at the late hour of 7 pm. That's not a traditional time to start a project that requires cleanup before bed! But I have given into their creativity without regrets.<div>
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The Sunday before Halloween we carved pumpkins instead of painting. With lots of help from Nana and Papa, and Meenu who sadly, are not pictured, we accomplished pumpkin carving 2013. Lots of ideas came tumbling forth, and they all turned out well (except for my Pinterest Fail, also not pictured: it's between a hedgehog and a puffer fish.)</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of Boo's pumpkin's many faces</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fairy Girl made a fairy house</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Daddy went with a spooky house</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eggbert went traditional</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And Z for Zibs</td></tr>
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It was fun to have everyone in on the action. We rounded out the carving night with a viewing of, "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown." Late bedtime again, but totally worth it!<br />
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Charis-Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06256536761137911106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8534418294315388987.post-32406137011082520132013-10-30T05:30:00.000-07:002013-10-30T05:30:01.124-07:00Handwork InspirationSpools of yarn. It's something we spend money on, just like paint and drawing pencils. They are natural tools we're always using and don't really know how to live without. I am not a knitter. I have knitted. I find sewing more gratifying. Despite that grudge, I think learning to knit and eventually crochet are important parts of our homeschooling. First, children finger-knit, then they learn on needles, and then they learn to follow a pattern. In Waldorf schools, knitting is used to reinforce math skills, develop fine motor skills, prepare children for handwriting, and give them the satisfaction of making something with their own hands. (It is much more than that, but that's the gist of the motivation behind learning fiber crafts.)<br />
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Within a few days of each other, Fairy Girl mentioned she wanted to know how to knit better, to make something other than a washcloth, and Bubba said he was ready to learn on needles. So being the non knitter I am, I asked my friend who knits avidly to give us a lesson. We were invited up to her parents house and while I intended to only require 15-30 minutes of instruction for the kids before they ran off to play with their friends, the day wonderfully exceeded my expectations. It was a beautiful fall day, in an ideal country setting.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The sunlight on the nape of her neck, nom nom nom!</td></tr>
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After parking the car, the kids found their friends and disappeared. My friend's mom was winterizing her bee hives and she invited me to watch. If only I had had my camera/phone! I watched as she removed the drone frame and checked broods. I smelled the heavenly bee food supplement she handmakes with essential oils, bee protein, and honey. She showed me the fuel she preferred for her smoker. I watched a young worker bee emerge from her cell and drones without stingers hiding out still in the boxes. In the meantime, Zibs had wandered into their garden where my friend's dad was pulling up all the squash and getting beds ready for winter. As a seasoned grandpa, he handed her a toddler sized hoe and let her mess around.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love the leaf in his hair, evidence of other play...</td></tr>
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With food as a lure, we gathered the kids on the deck in the lovely sun. My dear friend taught Fairy Girl how to purl and start a pattern for a cat and then she patiently started Bubba on needles. After he finished a row, he retreated for a trampoline break and surprisingly came back for more knitting. He was hooked.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See, knitting in the warm autumn sun, ahhh!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Setting traps; something is at the chickens.</td></tr>
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Meanwhile the other children were petting goats and getting cart rides behind grandpa's four-wheeler. It was a pretty great way to keep everyone happy. When one of my friend's twins went missing, he was always found in the garden. What a lovely afternoon. I feel like I said that too many times, but it was just one of those days you'll remember fondly for a long time. Before I left, I had some black tea with fresh honey and I think I may have found something I like more than coffee!<br />
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Charis-Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06256536761137911106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8534418294315388987.post-77278041467380890542013-10-29T05:30:00.000-07:002013-10-29T05:30:04.810-07:00Arboretum Season Comes to an End.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Fall at the arboretum is magical. The weather is cooler, the colors are brighter, and it feels like a small getaway. With families coming in and out of the group over the years, some moving onto school and others just moving to town, the kids always seem to know just how special the once a week meeting at the arboretum is. They devise their own games: sometimes bringing props from home, ideas from shared camp experiences, or just whatever the day inspires them to play. Our big kids are ten/eleven and the youngest are just a year old. The big kids incorporate the littles into their play and bring them back to the mamas' blankets when they've strayed too far. Fairy Girl is a bit outnumbered by the boys her age, but the gender pendulum swings back to female for the under five years old group.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sporting color shirts from our "Not-Back-to-School" tie dye party.</td></tr>
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Mamas dole snacks out and chat about homeschooling, child development, marriage, politics, recipes, library dues, and getting ready for winter. Speaking of winter, our arboretum time will be replaced with ice skating lessons and visiting the Mobius Science Center. There are rumors of archery lessons and leather working too, then hello ski season!Charis-Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06256536761137911106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8534418294315388987.post-71354316928705960562013-10-28T06:00:00.000-07:002013-10-28T06:00:13.145-07:00Knapps FarmWe made the annual pilgrimage up to Greenbluff to pick our pumpkins from the farm. One of Boo's friends had a birthday party up there and it was good timing for the whole family to come. Family pictures are hard to gather with both parents and 4 children looking. One child loves posing for now. You'll never guess who. The rest are just nice to have in the same frame.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He immediately named his pumpkin, "Eggbert."</td></tr>
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<br />Charis-Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06256536761137911106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8534418294315388987.post-47977140287278398522013-09-14T13:22:00.000-07:002013-09-14T13:23:46.619-07:00Beowulf and the Peg People<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Fairy Girl narrates the very condensed version of <u>Beowulf.</u></span></h4>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Grendel the Monster</span></h4>
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I have been so excited about this unit study of <u>Beowulf</u> with Fairy Girl for 4th grade. We use a combination of Live Ed and Waldorf Essentials curricula for our homeschooling and Norse Mythology is a shared theme in both. Although <u>Beowulf</u> is an Anglo Saxon poem, it reflects ideals from the time in history that the Norse Myths integrated with Christianity. The story of <u>Beowulf</u> is special to our family because our late beloved family dog shared the name, and our late (also loved) tabby cat went by the moniker, Grendel.<br />
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We spent about 4 weeks reading the Norton edition of <u>Beowulf</u>, along with several other versions: my favorite being my high school copy with my dialectic journal notes inside. I approached the topic both enthusiastically and tentatively because Fairy Girl (FG) is not one for the discussion of blood and guts. Gratefully, when reading an unabridged version the old language is hard enough to understand that most of the gory details went over her head. When some days the readings were too confusing, we would refer to a children's version for clarity. To finish up our study of the saga, I encouraged FG to perform a play for her brother. Up to this point, we ushered him out of the room during our readings and narrations because he couldn't keep himself from all the questions he had about ogres and dragons and was a distraction to our work. I thought, if FG could break the saga down into simple scenes and narrate a play just for him, he would finally feel included while, simultaneously, FG would show her understanding of the material.<br />
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There was no chance of giving Bubba nightmares by using our building blocks and wooden toys to act out the scenes. Writing the scenes out for herself proved too daunting of a task, I recorded as she dictated and then I assigned her the task of deciding what props she needed for each scene and recording those herself. FG can draw and color all day, but her hand tires after about a page of writing (partly because she draws all the time and partly because of her left-handedness). It took a few attempts until I realized she needed a deadline or it wasn't ever going to be complete. So I gave her a two day notice that she would perform a simple narration with her props and that it didn't need to be rehearsed.<br />
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I am so glad I pushed for that approach because it released a lot of the pressure that she was putting on herself. When you are listening to old English and your copywork is written in old English you tend to elevate your personal art (that's part of the goal, isn't it?) To balance her artistic side with her perfectionist side, we had to work with props that were readily available and adaptable. Here come the peg people!<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Beowulf sets sail for Daneland</span></h4>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Grendel attacks Heorot Hall</span></h4>
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<span style="font-size: small;">"Take this mead cup as a token of our gratitude,</span><span style="font-size: small;">" said Queen Wealhtheow.</span></h4>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h4>
<span style="font-size: small;">Terrible dragon that plagues Geatland.</span></h4>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Beowulf's funeral pyre.</span></h4>
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There were a couple of good lines that came out of her impromptu paraphrased play. One of my favorites came as Wiglaf tries to convince the other warriors to help Beowulf fight the dragon, he utters, "It is better to die in smoke than to leave a friend in need." The warrior culture of Beowulf valued dying in battle rather than in your sleep, old age or disease. They valued loyalty and just and generous kings. We were both a little sad when Beowulf died and his men deserted him except for Wiglaf. I think her Wiglaf quote sums it up nicely.</div>
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<br />Charis-Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06256536761137911106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8534418294315388987.post-11677534961907312092013-09-14T13:18:00.000-07:002013-09-14T13:18:09.238-07:00Out the Back Door<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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One of the many blessings about where we live is the woods in our back yard. Last weekend with my head pounding and needing rest, Fairy Girl got everyone dressed and ready for a nature walk. It had been rainy and the brush was wet so she put Zibs in puddle pants. With baskets in hand, they marched out the back door keeping their eyes open for their nature collection. They were hoping to find some chestnuts, seed pods, and feathers. The squirrels had beat them at the chestnuts or they were looking too early, but they came home with baskets full of so much more.<br />
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After laying out everything they had collected on the picnic table, they set about making plans for a gnome home. Moss and feathers and a hollowed out log from the side yard became play central. The gnome home eventually got moved into a more natural setting nestled against an old rock wall. I think we have spoiled gnomes.<br />
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Huckleberry, our oldest and boldest chicken, scanned the nature goods for buggy treats, always keeping a sharp eye on anything novel in her habitat. It was a beautiful, late summer afternoon and I can't think of a better way for our kids to have "used" it. I am continually grateful for our home that allows our kids (and our chickens and ducks) such free ranging habits.<br />
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<br />Charis-Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06256536761137911106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8534418294315388987.post-37543273428665168472013-09-03T22:18:00.001-07:002013-09-03T22:19:51.170-07:00Labor Day Trip to Schweitzer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="text-align: start;">Ever-changing light, huckleberries, chairlift rides, zip-lining, sluice mining, Schweitzer Fall Fest. Good stuff.</span></div>
<br />Charis-Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06256536761137911106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8534418294315388987.post-63109379156399968172013-06-24T21:43:00.000-07:002013-06-24T22:00:25.557-07:00Ducklings, Camp, Solstice, and Pie<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Our days have been full of caring for ducklings, or learning to care for ducklings which is an haphazard affair with a steep learning curve. They have brought us so much amusement and concern (about weather, adult duck dangers, cats, drowning, noise, getting in the coop, etc.) The best thing about having ducklings is that they stop a toddler tantrum cold. Owie-or-injustice-induced-screaming ends abruptly when you say, "want to go see the meep meeps?" And they make adults pretty happy too. It's hard to be mad while contemplating a little t-rex shaped bird with fuzzy down and a tiny bill.<br />
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<i>Then we had the rotten egg incident</i>. We brought an egg in with two other new hatchlings. It didn't hatch and before we removed it, Boo dropped it and it was <i>the</i> worst smell of my entire life. I had to put the 3-day-old ducklings outside with the bigger ducklings and the next day the cold rain started. So just as I was about to pick the big kids up from wilderness camp, I found a barely moving, very wet and cold duckling being trampled by the others. I wrapped her in a washcloth and stuck her in my bra and then drove out to pick up the kids. By the way back she was entirely recovered! She still doesn't mind being held by us and that's our reward.<br />
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The two oldest spent six hours a day Monday through Friday at Twin Eagles Wilderness School about 20 miles from our house. It poured rain and they learned survival skills like shelter, fire, wild edibles and purifying water. While I seriously doubted my parenting credibility after dropping them off in horrible weather, and then was late picking them up on the worst day, the kids ate it up. They were smiling when I picked them up. They said they had the most fun ever and I called that a "freebie".<br />
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Saturday we dared to bring really tired children up to join friends at their lake place to celebrate the summer solstice. I am so glad we did. We had a wonderful time. The kids were fresh out of wilderness survival mode and so were their friends. They canoed to an island, begged to build a fire there (request denied), made civilizations in the sand, rode on the back of a trailer to get marshmallows back at camp, roasted those marshmallows and made the best of the long hours of daylight. Driving back we watched the super moon rise over the foothills and it was a perfect evening.<br />
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After kids were tucked in, we remembered the strawberry rhubarb pie I had made the day before and made a perfect evening even better. So much packed into this week that started with Father's Day and ended with a solstice party. In fact, we started with strawberry pie and ended with another. That's a good start to summer!<br />
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<br />Charis-Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06256536761137911106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8534418294315388987.post-79901351086572539942013-05-08T23:16:00.002-07:002013-05-08T23:16:46.601-07:00My Early Morning HelperI have been trying to sneak away while the baby is still sleeping so I can prepare garden beds in advance of the Garden Expo. I have been pleasantly surprised by a willing little helper the last couple of mornings. The beauty of everything in bloom is Eden-like. Spending just a little borrowed time here in the morning makes for a soul-nurturing start to the day. Going back inside to make breakfast and then 2nd breakfast or "elevensies" doesn't seem so mundane when I have already feasted my eyes on blooming sunshine. I think it puts my helper in a better mood too.<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Watering the blueberry bushes</span></h4>
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<span style="font-size: small;">My other "helper"</span></h4>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The "Island Garden" with Hawthorn </span></h4>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbj4EhjVU9l34qtWINX0FqngRlGdKIDWCCtGyG-b1OMzPZJEd9h-TAiSiyQIckioYILxoB7mHeqIYG-x5hq64SSacFE6hazdzrHS4YYXvv0mM2kzChw9azSI9YsM95IMUU3FxU972ST3gO/s1600/2013-05-06+08.43.10+-+Copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbj4EhjVU9l34qtWINX0FqngRlGdKIDWCCtGyG-b1OMzPZJEd9h-TAiSiyQIckioYILxoB7mHeqIYG-x5hq64SSacFE6hazdzrHS4YYXvv0mM2kzChw9azSI9YsM95IMUU3FxU972ST3gO/s640/2013-05-06+08.43.10+-+Copy.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;">"Mom, she's awake."</span></h4>
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<br />Charis-Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06256536761137911106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8534418294315388987.post-7485761245016692752013-01-28T14:51:00.002-08:002013-01-28T14:51:50.115-08:00Expecting More<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiyUO2YaF059B0coRi-bTTCg5xnf-5UGS8QLxk1i3iepV2tW5txqy8ONo_iAlhs5u-ia0nHq6KbXRFsJX0vW7RA36X_Fde79Z2mISKCGwtRO4PL3BypBk5bhOjoeBYBhroYQQTEyeJAHIt/s1600/emptyplates3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiyUO2YaF059B0coRi-bTTCg5xnf-5UGS8QLxk1i3iepV2tW5txqy8ONo_iAlhs5u-ia0nHq6KbXRFsJX0vW7RA36X_Fde79Z2mISKCGwtRO4PL3BypBk5bhOjoeBYBhroYQQTEyeJAHIt/s640/emptyplates3.jpg" title="Plates to remind us our family is still growing." width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Plates to remind us our family is still growing.</span><br />
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As our littlest one has almost reached her first birthday, I am reminded of the two children we plan to adopt. God put adoption on my heart the same night He revealed to me that we would have children of our own. When I shared the news with Grant, it became his heart's desire to adopt too. But first, can you believe it, we had to have children of our own and so far that had been not so easy. Then a little over a year later we welcomed our first daughter. Now it's been almost 10 years, 11 total if you count when we found out we would have children and adopt others!<br />
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God put it on Grant's heart to set out plates once a week when we all share a meal to remind us to pray for the children that will become part of our family. We chose to do it this week on Saturday: Pancakes & Bacon Morning. It was amazing how eager the children were to set those places. They had so many questions, some really silly (in the eyes of adults) and some profound about adoption and the changes to our current family that adopting would entail. We don't know when they'll come into our life. Two years, ten years? But the process has started in our hearts and the rest is to come.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Left to right: Grant, cupcake ninja, nature girl, baby-behind-the-flowers, my seat, Bubba, and two plates waiting! See our table is just waiting to be full.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">
I read an astounding stat the other day. To paraphrase it: if every American church congregation had just one family willing to adopt one child, all the legally free children in the foster system in the US would have forever homes. Even if the stat was debatable. I thought, "what an incredible impact God's family could have on the fatherless." We have friends that have adopted three times. We have other friends working on adopting 2nd and 3rd times. We have rejoiced in domestic and international adoptions and we don't know which kind God has in store for us. We have witnessed the great financial sacrifices families have made to follow God's leading in adoption and realized He may ask that of us too. We are at the beginning and it's time to get schooled on all the hoops, home studies, travelling, court dates, etc that will be a part of our adoptions. If something reminds you that we plan to adopt, please take that moment of awareness to say a prayer for us: May He give us wisdom and lead our hearts. </div>
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<br />Charis-Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06256536761137911106noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8534418294315388987.post-5578381383287975982013-01-03T12:09:00.002-08:002013-01-03T12:09:58.237-08:00A moment to be in the present.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunshine, yay!</td></tr>
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It's a rare time when I can consciously be present while attending to the basic needs of our fourth child. So many other needs usually rush in, but this morning it happened. The last week has been full of sleepless nights and sick little ones, stress with the business, and no time to grocery shop. Then this morning came as a sweet gift, a little bubble in time wherein I could just pause and drink in these last days of babyhood.<br />
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Although it has been cold with snow on the ground for a while, I awoke to sunlight streaming in the windows. After a surprising breakfast where everyone ate their oatmeal with gusto, I decided it was time to bathe the two littles. When it was time to take Zibs out of the tub, I reached for a towel, and guess what? It was actually her towel, still plush and not worn down from 10 years of washing, and there it was... I was inspired.<br />
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I would give her a massage, and oh, look, there's some yummy smelling citrus Badger body butter! My chubby baby didn't cry or try to crawl away while I rubbed and soothed her trying to remember techniques from the infant massage class I took almost seven years ago for Baby Dragon (who hated it). Then with the sunshine pooling on the bed where I dried her off, massaged her and nursed her <i>without interruption, </i>I knew it was a cloth diaper and fresh woolens kind of morning. It felt so good to have my intentions come to fruition, even if only one morning this winter. It felt good to live out those ideals that seem to keep getting pushed back by the demands of every day life with six in the house. It felt incredible to smell a fresh and contented baby after long nights of discontent and sour breath. My gratitude for this simple delight poured happy serotonin into my brain and I thought, "I have got to write this down so I don't forget." Ta- da!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Connecting :)</td></tr>
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<br />Charis-Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06256536761137911106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8534418294315388987.post-85933887538241342802012-10-01T22:55:00.000-07:002012-10-01T22:55:46.093-07:00A Quiet Michaelmas<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj93ha_GIg4VMm9m2F7WpqE652rSsIq_mttD4TQfLI5Q46FbYmVmkak-RqlEpuhej_dR2Dh7bHJdK_UPbDVLYeXBOvNTEp8t2VyRlNIjd4HilXroqU4v6TabixFDM5VtQzlwKFqsmrSvuz8/s1600/2012-09-29+14.21.41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj93ha_GIg4VMm9m2F7WpqE652rSsIq_mttD4TQfLI5Q46FbYmVmkak-RqlEpuhej_dR2Dh7bHJdK_UPbDVLYeXBOvNTEp8t2VyRlNIjd4HilXroqU4v6TabixFDM5VtQzlwKFqsmrSvuz8/s640/2012-09-29+14.21.41.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Michaelmas daisies and apples blend harvest time into the festival.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Public battleground, or coffee and and a show!</span></td></tr>
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Most people have heard of Saint George and the Dragon, the story of England's patron saint. That legend is often the story we reflect on when we explain Michaelmas to young children. Essentially the festival is about defeating the dragon (lurking within and without). There are many better blogs that explain the significance of the Michaelmas celebration and some of them can be found here:<br />
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<a href="http://cedarringmama.wordpress.com/2012/09/29/neither-was-their-place-found-anymore-a-michaelmas-meditation/">http://cedarringmama.wordpress.com/2012/09/29/neither-was-their-place-found-anymore-a-michaelmas-meditation/</a><br />
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<a href="http://loveinthesuburbs.com/wordpress/michaelmas-time">http://loveinthesuburbs.com/wordpress/michaelmas-time</a><br />
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Since our town's Waldorf school is only in its second year, there is no older class to help dramatize the story of Archangel Michael defeating the dragon. We will have to wait a few years for that to happen, but over our few years of homeschooling we have celebrated Michaelmas in various ways. Last year, our co-op had a day at the arboretum full of verses, songs, and games. This year brought a different approach and I welcomed the flexibility to weave our own observance in between a teething baby's needs and naps, our Daddy's coming and going, and my own low energy level from a bit of a busier week than usual. Fairy Girl suggested a nature walk. I aimed to take that walk by 1:00pm, but we didn't leave the house until 3:00pm. That <i>slight</i> delay did cause some grumbling, but I never know how long it will take bread to rise and I wanted to get the dragon bread baked before we left. We left it on the counter to eat when we were home again.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqJz6Y0U8G1hYQmAg3OwCnY9fXzYGTHZ6n7ttg_x52WfteuRJ4_v6tOlDME7K3OJZxLusK_UP16Lk_tSygl8aer4x71lTKlHlQrRSNRahnYSfMNtCl7YitKIJJo6xVtcu9dsodhHd2lsXV/s1600/2012-09-29+15.54.17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqJz6Y0U8G1hYQmAg3OwCnY9fXzYGTHZ6n7ttg_x52WfteuRJ4_v6tOlDME7K3OJZxLusK_UP16Lk_tSygl8aer4x71lTKlHlQrRSNRahnYSfMNtCl7YitKIJJo6xVtcu9dsodhHd2lsXV/s640/2012-09-29+15.54.17.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXshRlIpmbllBOugGhQ5Cz5lbQKg5H9dus86mWn0_0Eo0cpdLut3324rMj4GPURt69P2Jhi2Iyh_YhhyphenhyphenoyPf_1WIX2sTDx_hWT-jRA1NZ7zaj7CLfOEnjnXDhLXnx03tjcdftRB1cGAvfu/s1600/2012-09-29+16.07.46.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXshRlIpmbllBOugGhQ5Cz5lbQKg5H9dus86mWn0_0Eo0cpdLut3324rMj4GPURt69P2Jhi2Iyh_YhhyphenhyphenoyPf_1WIX2sTDx_hWT-jRA1NZ7zaj7CLfOEnjnXDhLXnx03tjcdftRB1cGAvfu/s640/2012-09-29+16.07.46.jpg" width="360" /></a></div>
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It was a bright and dry day. It was also a bit breezy on the mountain but still comfortable for t-shirts. The added bonus of hiking on my friend's property was meeting her newborn after the hike. But I digress. When I called ahead she mentioned moose out and about. That scared me just a bit, but having been recently bolstered by the stories of knights defeating dragons, I hiked on; but admittedly, talking louder than necessary. I had previously hiked this trail in a group with other mamas, so I guess I prefer people to wildlife...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfmkiowF_-IqPNfLIOHzvI9b91j0I7SEqqYstoWz9IyID4VdYwLPyWTnXjWxp8QM9XYnh0zGc7ahkB9clK8xe-5SaCfKstja49qXRhD1KWKKaCAGh-2ZHrWr4IetZQBnAAb7iAQj7yfapQ/s1600/2012-09-29+16.08.20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfmkiowF_-IqPNfLIOHzvI9b91j0I7SEqqYstoWz9IyID4VdYwLPyWTnXjWxp8QM9XYnh0zGc7ahkB9clK8xe-5SaCfKstja49qXRhD1KWKKaCAGh-2ZHrWr4IetZQBnAAb7iAQj7yfapQ/s640/2012-09-29+16.08.20.jpg" width="360" /></a></div>
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Though the sky above was blue, looking out at the horizon it was smokey and the visibility was more limited than usual. The dry month caused some fall colors to be more muted than usual and the air smelled dusty and aching for a rain. There is a seasonal spring/ stream I like to hike to but it was very dry when we got there. That made it a good turning point and time for a treat. The kids asked about the dead standing trees and I explained how important snags are for wildlife habitat. <i> They decided they were high rise gnome homes.</i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAc_NEWtzn1DAaX8KDlwBC0j6dBCMOQWeE66NwQQkHt9GEGKQcbGdE9ap5LzZXHVCT1izQbAKwYw5PWQdo_davtVhjKz4djcFcDnq6Qjhyphenhyphenyzo4WwUilzc0raUyrq2uwYGfpDXopcG3oFbK/s1600/2012-09-29+15.50.05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAc_NEWtzn1DAaX8KDlwBC0j6dBCMOQWeE66NwQQkHt9GEGKQcbGdE9ap5LzZXHVCT1izQbAKwYw5PWQdo_davtVhjKz4djcFcDnq6Qjhyphenhyphenyzo4WwUilzc0raUyrq2uwYGfpDXopcG3oFbK/s640/2012-09-29+15.50.05.jpg" width="360" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhie4VoHgBSPJd6UvKa9E6nEDB1l71pgpM2diUyOOLetVUA6MUte52n2e-Xnj0nrX5JSLoM8J-AJkw3MvhLgWZY1At3yJjK8Z5mxZ_pZV45T8R3Cur3Bj0h7ZbA4RcVPzN6N-WdgLx4Nm54/s1600/2012-09-29+15.25.10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhie4VoHgBSPJd6UvKa9E6nEDB1l71pgpM2diUyOOLetVUA6MUte52n2e-Xnj0nrX5JSLoM8J-AJkw3MvhLgWZY1At3yJjK8Z5mxZ_pZV45T8R3Cur3Bj0h7ZbA4RcVPzN6N-WdgLx4Nm54/s640/2012-09-29+15.25.10.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">How some gnomes get around the woods.</span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyiA9KcjVT62MxofVDcsatCLmR_gF2QujLLvIHfoyTQoizItgbKxoMJe2Pb91w1MMq2yWZpwur6iScqQE62FCLRTNPRgyEhWBzABf-6re8NfwppQA3CyYMKiZbvFuiSUlD5psKHZzOhUT8/s1600/2012-09-29+15.48.04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyiA9KcjVT62MxofVDcsatCLmR_gF2QujLLvIHfoyTQoizItgbKxoMJe2Pb91w1MMq2yWZpwur6iScqQE62FCLRTNPRgyEhWBzABf-6re8NfwppQA3CyYMKiZbvFuiSUlD5psKHZzOhUT8/s640/2012-09-29+15.48.04.jpg" width="360" /></a></div>
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Feeling cleansed by some time out in nature, we headed home (after a few errands) and ate our dragon bread with some honey. We played some more bowling knights after rescuing the dragon ball from the errant path it took into the heating duct in the kitchen down into the playroom in the basement! I then became aware of a battle reenactment going on in the living room and was happy to catch some video (that of course won't upload for me).</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO29c6sFM6pT39Q9Rl4xc_3kl-augBiRtxYA6nVLWGOJswvyFaxmGQuvNl4xmTPVT4NmueC_dwMCYjA6nC-cP3E5JZ_FQvkgrzAAAQbnEadbGlQErK0kYJs-WeWw9lgNxeqan4fqlJpgk-/s1600/IMG_7247.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO29c6sFM6pT39Q9Rl4xc_3kl-augBiRtxYA6nVLWGOJswvyFaxmGQuvNl4xmTPVT4NmueC_dwMCYjA6nC-cP3E5JZ_FQvkgrzAAAQbnEadbGlQErK0kYJs-WeWw9lgNxeqan4fqlJpgk-/s400/IMG_7247.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Stealthy dragons in years past.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_lJKFbpkqGtCymD1DrtccykMyVM-VC46CiUGhSFp5nkfxnlWfIQCu2Bpja1OpoKFbo14UVwBskyXwwm8A0uu7HbsLDvLuOUS886hlazBzA84MLLM5Xf4OSxgQL28CwA7uEbICqhIzTW2x/s1600/IMG_9262.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_lJKFbpkqGtCymD1DrtccykMyVM-VC46CiUGhSFp5nkfxnlWfIQCu2Bpja1OpoKFbo14UVwBskyXwwm8A0uu7HbsLDvLuOUS886hlazBzA84MLLM5Xf4OSxgQL28CwA7uEbICqhIzTW2x/s400/IMG_9262.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Seven-headed beast from Revelation</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQo3QVNKqxzovV42gLVVNVPsZJ2MwuCfBXV9F-bYDuwVKo_iH3tIKQyM0WuTz4G6-hhJKkkEIfyLUSGewnAFok_gLenQtJz0Sm76O695xnQxa9QH4Yx6pS0gA6atRsxA_ML8ehvOYCd1Zc/s1600/IMG_7246.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQo3QVNKqxzovV42gLVVNVPsZJ2MwuCfBXV9F-bYDuwVKo_iH3tIKQyM0WuTz4G6-hhJKkkEIfyLUSGewnAFok_gLenQtJz0Sm76O695xnQxa9QH4Yx6pS0gA6atRsxA_ML8ehvOYCd1Zc/s640/IMG_7246.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love this verse because I think it is a great one to teach the essence of Michaelmas to young children and enables their sense of righteousness and faith in what is good and true and beautiful.</td></tr>
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We cuddled up later and watched the "Cave of the Yellow Dog," which is a nice slow moving docudrama about a small girl in modern Mongolia. Then this very tired mama, happy for the way the day went, put everybody to bed. I had grateful thoughts about some very big dragons of my own from earlier in the year -that the battles they represented were resolved just in time for changing with the season. I can look into the dark winter months ahead and say."Brave and true I will be."<br /><br /></div>
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<br />Charis-Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06256536761137911106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8534418294315388987.post-6076743054602917152012-09-21T23:23:00.001-07:002012-09-21T23:27:36.695-07:00Welcome FallTonight we celebrated the autumnal equinox with our 4th annual fall potluck. Our group was smaller than usual because some mamas were very near their due dates and one just had her baby yesterday. But with our close crew of six couples and kiddos, we visited well past sunset.<br />
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I look forward to this potluck and through all the trials of raising little ones, I have somehow succeeded each time at pulling off some seasonal decor and bringing some food made with local ingredients. My kids look forward to this yearly mark as well. It wasn't hard to convince them this morning to help me pick sunflowers from the garden. My son even remarked there were too many sunflowers. But obviously, that's not possible.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS6cq9k6xqbw7P4PAFu6oX-nLPcWyRBb6Dla4UpLpa_UJP2AIhnIOWhsxt3Qo33ACTcCoP3Yql7hLI281NM4CDBWweqFhYSdfPzl2HEIKKINKKIulS8oTK5HOJQrwUzieBEipIXKvzvYXv/s1600/2012-09-21+10.22.58.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS6cq9k6xqbw7P4PAFu6oX-nLPcWyRBb6Dla4UpLpa_UJP2AIhnIOWhsxt3Qo33ACTcCoP3Yql7hLI281NM4CDBWweqFhYSdfPzl2HEIKKINKKIulS8oTK5HOJQrwUzieBEipIXKvzvYXv/s640/2012-09-21+10.22.58.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">I added a volunteer tomatillo (for their little lanterns) that I knew wouldn't develop enough before the frost and Michaelmas daisies.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirMCB5WrwZU5E749xADGP1uBTOasr-lHeksDg5C7dW3JWRf0lXMp6DXQblxO8yQZ6hjBnLhw6vUQS6CSkmy22RMnPzAUVy2Z2cnX41uFaPRGsB2Zp1GgKdNsvCZ-n-ZrLuRu-jF66-ZCro/s1600/2012-09-21+10.23.17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirMCB5WrwZU5E749xADGP1uBTOasr-lHeksDg5C7dW3JWRf0lXMp6DXQblxO8yQZ6hjBnLhw6vUQS6CSkmy22RMnPzAUVy2Z2cnX41uFaPRGsB2Zp1GgKdNsvCZ-n-ZrLuRu-jF66-ZCro/s640/2012-09-21+10.23.17.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">I am excited to have discovered a volunteer elderberry on the east side of the house and added one of its two clusters with some hound's tongue for added contrast.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSL_9fU_yzg9DeY9YmGJdk462BC3L3RHDd5ISVOptmSUOppRUKtIZt5ZqkXNFAC3DBThiSa7R_9eWoTxBOVwPJD2YqtOkNumIZVg1T6KwcqWxmUZ6ddc-0xXn5nJdW899IPdzoOZgPikcK/s1600/2012-09-21+10.23.28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSL_9fU_yzg9DeY9YmGJdk462BC3L3RHDd5ISVOptmSUOppRUKtIZt5ZqkXNFAC3DBThiSa7R_9eWoTxBOVwPJD2YqtOkNumIZVg1T6KwcqWxmUZ6ddc-0xXn5nJdW899IPdzoOZgPikcK/s640/2012-09-21+10.23.28.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">This Joe Pye weed had four sleeping bees on it when I clipped it this morning for the arrangement.</span></td></tr>
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After picking flowers, I went in the backyard and picked some more plums. Our plums are small and tart, but still yummy. I have dehydrated some, my sister made some into fruit leathers, and the kids eat them off the table, but still there are too many; even the chicken have grown sick of the fallen fruit. By the front driveway, our neighbors have a bigger and sweeter purple plum with yellow fresh that we can pick. So far, the flowers and fruit for tonight are straight from the yard and free!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnYNz-56pZO9FRtR9ZTCY9ZC2d8yK4Qo7dRKPucvAqUObmgAN1DdMVhlluO-N4WPVpgQmEAaOVyORwGrQlXIRCmPi_QgKAZ7BPRnJO-zJ-w7Bvw38K57XbG__z2B9dv29_W5xFgdwmwI7z/s1600/2012-09-17+13.25.35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnYNz-56pZO9FRtR9ZTCY9ZC2d8yK4Qo7dRKPucvAqUObmgAN1DdMVhlluO-N4WPVpgQmEAaOVyORwGrQlXIRCmPi_QgKAZ7BPRnJO-zJ-w7Bvw38K57XbG__z2B9dv29_W5xFgdwmwI7z/s640/2012-09-17+13.25.35.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">A beautiful salsa garden harvest.</span></td></tr>
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Then it was time to make some salsa, roasted beets, and some roasted potatoes for the potluck. I made salsa first because it was a good way to get rid of the fruit fly bait. I have never made salsa before but I had all the ingredients I needed, most of which came from my Dad's garden while he was away. Then roasted beets because, well because, we are just not a beet eating family yet. I have lots of beets from my CSA cooler the last couple of weeks and thought tonight's potluck would be a good way to send those off. Finally, the roasted potatoes were something I knew my own family <i>would</i> eat. There was a lot of chopping, nursing a baby, chopping, roasting, and getting baby to nap before assembling food for the potluck.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXpeZVQ4f31muVbe10IL0zX4ca6SU-PTfvaZdALEHzu2kRq2KnnufbWi_A7S0w7nQ4f1Lk-DKTsE8mvt2j4jFKMXAJiMUKUE_NM1cKH-dp-3sQ_oH2m-5nmKYv8sn3a4alIBL6P6Um6uDR/s1600/2012-09-21+11.50.30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXpeZVQ4f31muVbe10IL0zX4ca6SU-PTfvaZdALEHzu2kRq2KnnufbWi_A7S0w7nQ4f1Lk-DKTsE8mvt2j4jFKMXAJiMUKUE_NM1cKH-dp-3sQ_oH2m-5nmKYv8sn3a4alIBL6P6Um6uDR/s640/2012-09-21+11.50.30.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">I snuck some zucchini in the salsa just to use another one up.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ1MrEMl6hlWK9jE8OqXLGWIoqlNHfkjFt8jbDBtqXxZDMtO8n3ZIUBM9VrjMttNFhu_gUSE-5N1IsfaqQFO9OEt9looGXYsx4wkobXDGz37l9P1kfU9ChoIirIVMQ6fi7k4WuBeiuXa4k/s1600/2012-09-21+13.49.47.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ1MrEMl6hlWK9jE8OqXLGWIoqlNHfkjFt8jbDBtqXxZDMtO8n3ZIUBM9VrjMttNFhu_gUSE-5N1IsfaqQFO9OEt9looGXYsx4wkobXDGz37l9P1kfU9ChoIirIVMQ6fi7k4WuBeiuXa4k/s640/2012-09-21+13.49.47.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">These potatoes had been in the fridge awhile (which worked out well for roasting texture), and I added carrot and apples with balsamic vinegar, olive oil, honey, thyme, and rosemary, garlic salt and pepper.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYRLnNRlqR8cwhRSmQDVAs_HkSpWxWMjUP1unk7YAL8O4tJLVLtrXHix2im-IS8Hr3SAJaB3B9ZPySp_OZk1Q5iMTHDiJWXhfZmBpzzgRT2KOvvvmDqSu3elud8pwDdoN8RhxBe7KUaGID/s1600/2012-09-21+14.58.23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYRLnNRlqR8cwhRSmQDVAs_HkSpWxWMjUP1unk7YAL8O4tJLVLtrXHix2im-IS8Hr3SAJaB3B9ZPySp_OZk1Q5iMTHDiJWXhfZmBpzzgRT2KOvvvmDqSu3elud8pwDdoN8RhxBe7KUaGID/s640/2012-09-21+14.58.23.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">Due to the uneven napping nature of my teething seven month old, these potatoes got stuck to the foil because I didn't have a chance to stir them up, and note to self, using the convection oven changes the time needed for roasting veggies!</span></td></tr>
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I didn't take pictures of the beets, but I made this recipe: <a href="http://www.simplyrecipes.com/recipes/roasted_beets_with_balsamic_glaze/" target="_blank">Roasted Beets with Balsamic Glaze</a>. For the beet-eaters at the potluck, they were a hit!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYnHz8uAvr-CEuuFTyN-FHWzQthG9VkKdRwfEM6CWH67Pq0Cae4eL2X_4JDkk1qXxXaJXn80AhFDUMaqM9i04mV1YTxZkofQMn-tJV7qylZVLDiV8uE3cqiRzwpGqnSQRbSuCRD3mYwQlr/s1600/2012-09-21+18.23.02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYnHz8uAvr-CEuuFTyN-FHWzQthG9VkKdRwfEM6CWH67Pq0Cae4eL2X_4JDkk1qXxXaJXn80AhFDUMaqM9i04mV1YTxZkofQMn-tJV7qylZVLDiV8uE3cqiRzwpGqnSQRbSuCRD3mYwQlr/s640/2012-09-21+18.23.02.jpg" width="360" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGsxYeOhbP3n4ujMvctKFXyBn-dQx2ivwwoWALeIVTONYwZCFGCg7NnwNplnIDTAYtMUkiVLpUzPlwZneXg-CMbXb-WLnOxm61A_JSWnyEnQnKacZSI_TZjfCeUikwx7iYa1nDUotZyM9j/s1600/2012-09-21+18.17.15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGsxYeOhbP3n4ujMvctKFXyBn-dQx2ivwwoWALeIVTONYwZCFGCg7NnwNplnIDTAYtMUkiVLpUzPlwZneXg-CMbXb-WLnOxm61A_JSWnyEnQnKacZSI_TZjfCeUikwx7iYa1nDUotZyM9j/s640/2012-09-21+18.17.15.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">Three babies under seven months and two due in a week (remember there's only six couples here!)</span></td></tr>
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As sunlight dwindled on the last summer's evening, conversation carried on and babies settled into warmer clothes and blankets. Finally, the apple candles burned out, and except for two more mechanical re-lightings so that eager candle-blower-outers could have their turn, it was dark and time to pack up. I am already hoping the sunflowers are as abundant as they were this time. Here come sweaters, short days and long nights, colorful leaves, soup dinners and cozy reading. Happy Fall everyone!</div>
<br />Charis-Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06256536761137911106noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8534418294315388987.post-40690792281894978892012-05-01T14:15:00.001-07:002012-05-01T14:15:19.757-07:00May Day, Hooray!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJQi5g99n9QR_IEGpR1mOY_ao_hQrx7Alb6m8UPGhmgdJrm89uJL6cTmhW8ru3A7rQz6-XaYyUoOVlsk_SGUeSeYOT_z1uiElcBcaOOp58NmQ92hcwB6HMcGbZcYZNxEaafokRw11i1ZC1/s1600/2012-05-01_07-26-30_356.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJQi5g99n9QR_IEGpR1mOY_ao_hQrx7Alb6m8UPGhmgdJrm89uJL6cTmhW8ru3A7rQz6-XaYyUoOVlsk_SGUeSeYOT_z1uiElcBcaOOp58NmQ92hcwB6HMcGbZcYZNxEaafokRw11i1ZC1/s640/2012-05-01_07-26-30_356.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A purchased bouquet for deer insurance (see below)</td></tr>
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From the innocence of wearing flower crowns to the pagan Beltane celebrations, May Day traditions have always captured my imagination. Last year for Fairy Girl's Waldorf inspired class, I made a maypole and dyed strips of muslin for the ribbons. Their instructor taught us this song as they danced.</div>
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<i>Here's a branch of snowy May, a branch the fairies gave me.</i></div>
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<i>Who would like to dance today, with the branch the fairies gave me?</i></div>
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<i>Dance away, dance away, holding high the branch of May,</i></div>
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<i>Dance away, dance away, holding high the branch of May!</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmgX6vt_08TfNRcq8DN-8YDIXoe4wBffkEyWj3S6FS7SB5Q35MAEBVdLBDYfrLRsjhat275SZumlYBC2RPlZN1XH5VAVmBstOMtZA0RTKZ-j1Q0wsJ5w4moCVnZnhjhj92pkPCi9jBS5-N/s1600/IMG_8948.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmgX6vt_08TfNRcq8DN-8YDIXoe4wBffkEyWj3S6FS7SB5Q35MAEBVdLBDYfrLRsjhat275SZumlYBC2RPlZN1XH5VAVmBstOMtZA0RTKZ-j1Q0wsJ5w4moCVnZnhjhj92pkPCi9jBS5-N/s400/IMG_8948.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Despite sick kiddos and tulip eating deer, Fairy Girl and I were still able to sneak away early this morning to deliver flowers in the neighborhood. It's a cool day, in fact the thermometer read 40 F this morning as we picked flowers. The gusty wind made it even colder and Fairy Girl mentioned numb fingers while picking. But even though the deer had indeed stole more flowers from the yard, we were still able to harvest some. Last year the tulips hadn't even bloomed by the first of May.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7n3P3ZWhPNpYub4o_cehWg8ihym_udCleo-JAhOBQBRYyaYlRUO3eeZtrZtaF9JHx1XhsLUAP5uB1tezxXja4LD4QO08a44-ieOQkjTUwKamKYG8GPbhDMzXo5ruIoAj3lzmFW_-Wjq9E/s1600/2012-05-01_06-50-04_504.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7n3P3ZWhPNpYub4o_cehWg8ihym_udCleo-JAhOBQBRYyaYlRUO3eeZtrZtaF9JHx1XhsLUAP5uB1tezxXja4LD4QO08a44-ieOQkjTUwKamKYG8GPbhDMzXo5ruIoAj3lzmFW_-Wjq9E/s640/2012-05-01_06-50-04_504.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Grape hyacinth is always so cheerful</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrTDkwK3umHY4KoBbkZSLoXR-zpIe6KBw5kMgYhUvhKs60b_Y7w4gHjRyWBEtqmNSO1vNXqtljNOz2WN8MNygy1pmQGqnTmG30mF-gs8gy2CqyisCI1clfOKjAmw5m5M-E-w3CrYy9JA0j/s1600/2012-05-01_06-54-37_192.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrTDkwK3umHY4KoBbkZSLoXR-zpIe6KBw5kMgYhUvhKs60b_Y7w4gHjRyWBEtqmNSO1vNXqtljNOz2WN8MNygy1pmQGqnTmG30mF-gs8gy2CqyisCI1clfOKjAmw5m5M-E-w3CrYy9JA0j/s400/2012-05-01_06-54-37_192.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Pretzel did not like waiting while we picked flowers</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicG4z54AebIztGhxnR7SRscR-nn1vS4leBywq3HDqeq7frzpZjMX2H5j5iSe1oTTj_jA1C2ExYh3zw-2i5VEWhwO_Ug-ynmwFyIroQpEZuDz5t_HEOai7Oh8RfXWYGlfjSSQz2yEfvq2RT/s1600/2012-05-01_07-09-41_524.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicG4z54AebIztGhxnR7SRscR-nn1vS4leBywq3HDqeq7frzpZjMX2H5j5iSe1oTTj_jA1C2ExYh3zw-2i5VEWhwO_Ug-ynmwFyIroQpEZuDz5t_HEOai7Oh8RfXWYGlfjSSQz2yEfvq2RT/s640/2012-05-01_07-09-41_524.jpg" width="360" /></span></a></td></tr>
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We made one less drop off this year because I didn't have enough cans/ jars prepared, but under the circumstances I don't think anyone will hold it against us. I know in future years I will have more helpers, but it has been special to create this tradition with Fairy Girl. When I went into her room at 6:30am this morning, she was awake in bed just waiting for the cue.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCw7m2O4-RCwzwcLqsNBtoG_XzhjdSoCkXt2seuF1SpiN5FBQqyClg-6hGfCHj4b-XXoefbHbj-ibQ_6fVawKsBT1Zy5t-ECfMuJlKivFNP1mbMQs3b3AtJSpnzmyBkLKu-Yx7U6GmDcCQ/s1600/2012-05-01_07-15-48_590.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCw7m2O4-RCwzwcLqsNBtoG_XzhjdSoCkXt2seuF1SpiN5FBQqyClg-6hGfCHj4b-XXoefbHbj-ibQ_6fVawKsBT1Zy5t-ECfMuJlKivFNP1mbMQs3b3AtJSpnzmyBkLKu-Yx7U6GmDcCQ/s640/2012-05-01_07-15-48_590.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sneaking up</span></td></tr>
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Sometimes I hear rumors from the other adult in the family that maybe we celebrate too many festivals. The concern is for my stress level I guess. But honestly, most simple festivals relieve stress. I look forward to their observances. I can't think of one that I would like to discontinue. Sometimes special days are the best reason to get up early with a cranky baby and do something beautiful. Hopefully, sleep will come in the afternoon!<br />
<br />Charis-Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06256536761137911106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8534418294315388987.post-76536759379817349842012-04-30T22:50:00.000-07:002012-04-30T22:50:49.902-07:00Spring time out<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Monday, April 23rd, was a wonderful, sunny Spring day. We finally had a "good" school lesson after adding a new baby and navigating Grant's cancer surgeries. The kids celebrated with bubbles out on the front lawn. I came out and sat on a blanket with Pretzel and we soaked it all in.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh__XKS1jmn0D_RIwlU9RwlpAhynpXu_hyphenhyphenZNYeR2qZa90ydkkWgUpPUXYG5Xy8bYnMRNHlfdpIXAF6lRDGD6kkn8BFnmKsIyeVauZKiB7VPiDJhZf8x204BpLiIB3Lqw3-hmTai6eGj40oH/s1600/boo+bubble+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh__XKS1jmn0D_RIwlU9RwlpAhynpXu_hyphenhyphenZNYeR2qZa90ydkkWgUpPUXYG5Xy8bYnMRNHlfdpIXAF6lRDGD6kkn8BFnmKsIyeVauZKiB7VPiDJhZf8x204BpLiIB3Lqw3-hmTai6eGj40oH/s320/boo+bubble+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">I love it when Boo wears this dress, a hand-me-down from her dear friend. It epitomizes the essence of warm days and carefree play. This was the first time I let her wear it without a shirt and pants underneath. In my spare time I would study the pattern and recreate one for each day of the week. But like I said, in my spare time...</span><br />
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As I sat out there, I remember wondering if my sore throat was from all the pollen in the breeze. The progression of days showed that it was indeed a virus and Boo got it the worst. By Friday I was feeling better, but Pretzel and Boo had something and we went to the naturopath. The girls acted as if they weren't sick at all at the appointment (so much for trying to avoid an ER visit on the weekend by seeing your provider on Friday afternoon). Then Saturday came and little Boo had croup.<br />
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Just as I am writing this on Monday night, I had to pop up from my computer and comfort her during a coughing spell. Humidifiers in the bedroom, steam showers in the middle of the night, cough medicines, homeopathic meds, and herbal teas supported her, but I could tell she needed us to up the ante. Something about her cough brought back memories, so we pulled out the nebulizer she needed when she had croup at 10 months old. We were out of the medicine though. This is where it's so wonderful to have a Family Nurse Practitioner to call on a Sunday night and a father-in-law who's a pharmacist. Our NP called in the Rx and Papa picked it up. After her first successful treatment, I was sure that we had just avoided the weekend ER visit. Thank you, Lord!<br />
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<br />It's interesting to me that croup can have a genetic tendency. Grant had croup growing up and it seems our girls are prone to it as well. I am so thankful for the circle of providers we have in our town. I would hate to move and try to recreate the relationships we've formed and the trust we have in those who have watched our family grow. For my midwives, our chiropractor, our naturopath, and our nurse practitioner who does house calls, I am so grateful. I am also so thankful for the man I married who so tenderly gets up with his kids to turn the shower on in the middle of the night because he knows exactly how they feel.<br />
<br />Charis-Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06256536761137911106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8534418294315388987.post-42476063832733575942012-04-22T07:00:00.003-07:002012-04-22T21:13:16.176-07:00Happy Earth Day 2012<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6xp5T3QhCAOcY_dgw3vxFp1lDOZDt-vChLdUc8EegaDMl5iQuOsagnlMiBS2dG-EUdLU0vYfV_8_yX0DOpjFD9p-vZ2UU6ZNDp42L5-kE3c2rYcnadr-0_iFjk36bTYSLFz7BW-aqhkup/s1600/2012-04-21_11-15-38_652.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6xp5T3QhCAOcY_dgw3vxFp1lDOZDt-vChLdUc8EegaDMl5iQuOsagnlMiBS2dG-EUdLU0vYfV_8_yX0DOpjFD9p-vZ2UU6ZNDp42L5-kE3c2rYcnadr-0_iFjk36bTYSLFz7BW-aqhkup/s400/2012-04-21_11-15-38_652.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Watching, waiting...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0fMald_plZTGyTb7axz1edphEknZb8MQLtkmYwJ_hmAQxDf8OtvXWoW0qpJkItOZsE6BFSoC8zmdnBIbCg0BD87QQxceXPlwfA_55NGKlfWmo4tF60QGcS4FUCUHbBhexDg1KY2OWg0q_/s1600/2012-04-21_11-17-06_403.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0fMald_plZTGyTb7axz1edphEknZb8MQLtkmYwJ_hmAQxDf8OtvXWoW0qpJkItOZsE6BFSoC8zmdnBIbCg0BD87QQxceXPlwfA_55NGKlfWmo4tF60QGcS4FUCUHbBhexDg1KY2OWg0q_/s400/2012-04-21_11-17-06_403.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sorting varieties</td></tr>
</tbody></table>So this was a special day. I have been waiting for nine years to do something very important. And I have kept some strange things in the freezer in order to do it.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXKSAEQQNCoe0itGNKhYcesNDxmIXBpryJ0cA-RekFTBV6kSJlaOfxCtn63PkSfUp0txYPJqXKhV5fRexEDFUT46Q4gzw2w_Aluvix9CeC6cVEgasdoRGTCc0fJXzhlBqdNJbROcAhEoj5/s1600/2012-04-21_10-41-05_322.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXKSAEQQNCoe0itGNKhYcesNDxmIXBpryJ0cA-RekFTBV6kSJlaOfxCtn63PkSfUp0txYPJqXKhV5fRexEDFUT46Q4gzw2w_Aluvix9CeC6cVEgasdoRGTCc0fJXzhlBqdNJbROcAhEoj5/s400/2012-04-21_10-41-05_322.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ready to jump in and help...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Today we planted the children's placentas, or as I explained to Boo, their baby buddies, the pillows they had while they grew inside Mama. Ever since I read about a tree planting ceremony, I wanted to do it. It's just I didn't want to bury something so special under a tree that we would have to leave when we moved to another house. Hence, the freezer tactic. So now, nine years later, after our fourth and last child has been born and we live in a house I can't imagine ever moving from, the time came. Actually I wanted to do it last year. I had the trees circled in a catalog. But it didn't happen. Then this year it made even more sense to plant everyone's at the same time.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>I ordered trees from Raintree Nursery. I spoke with the most helpful person named Sue. The call went like this:<br />
"This is Sue, how can I help you."<br />
"Hi I live in Spokane and I am a first time wannabe home orchardist and I need help picking out the right fruit trees." (this I said nervously, all in one breath run together)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm9gg2qBMI7KFThYJ23PrGURCFF1BLEQlF86AJ9yKRoM2cCey62MWx8NjiH5xxA8Zs84YeJ0QnFgqao_ee-UujXnqvvUM5Rcyyop5vT8063N4gkLQvG0cMwzqqTXCHe8n1uCdoGX5TR_sE/s1600/2012-04-21_11-32-30_70.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm9gg2qBMI7KFThYJ23PrGURCFF1BLEQlF86AJ9yKRoM2cCey62MWx8NjiH5xxA8Zs84YeJ0QnFgqao_ee-UujXnqvvUM5Rcyyop5vT8063N4gkLQvG0cMwzqqTXCHe8n1uCdoGX5TR_sE/s400/2012-04-21_11-32-30_70.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One down, three to go.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Sue then gently took me through the process of matching cross pollination timing between varieties and selecting root stocks. This took two phone calls because Pretzel woke in the middle and asked for attention very loudly. When I finally completed the order, I couldn't contain my excitement. We were really going to plant fruit trees and the kids would all have their own tree to take care of over the years and eat from.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzRMMFLkFRIGo_jISnoNEJPimA6GE97yWRkuCYcyhP9VqRDnyy8dhyZobU2m91fR2n0TCNTCw-o1Eg3wudW3vDPhWiNDeAEhXaIG4UVg0EgksQVKXZ7Tx5n1FgrKD-wVJ1oV0vRB-IJDRD/s1600/2012-04-21_12-12-44_917.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzRMMFLkFRIGo_jISnoNEJPimA6GE97yWRkuCYcyhP9VqRDnyy8dhyZobU2m91fR2n0TCNTCw-o1Eg3wudW3vDPhWiNDeAEhXaIG4UVg0EgksQVKXZ7Tx5n1FgrKD-wVJ1oV0vRB-IJDRD/s400/2012-04-21_12-12-44_917.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fairy Girl's peach tree.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>We had other very kind people help us when we planted the trees too. Nana and Papa came over just in time to see that we still didn't know where the trees were getting planted and that Grant and I were still "discussing" it. Bless them for their patience because we eventually agreed on a compromise and Papa took the liberty of doing all the digging. They are so good to us. With Grant's recovery requiring minimal use of his right arm, and with my total distraction by four energetic kiddos, we were glad to have extra hands and their experience. It's hard to describe how right it felt with the warm weather, blue sky and puffy white clouds, Grant's parents, happy children, and planting trees altogether. Everything felt connected and grounded in positive activity.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFmDuhlZJVxvyg97krnY0oFm4SxhJYsvtfHPaE7ru2ahpVObNEL1kMNri-V0x3p-CukmTKPRiRTy6HZQXl3vF0UfxReHP4VxM3cbJ9EIKLhZnPHswgG8FcIetKH_Rw-1s-hZJxjP8R0tAP/s1600/2012-04-21_12-20-14_932.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFmDuhlZJVxvyg97krnY0oFm4SxhJYsvtfHPaE7ru2ahpVObNEL1kMNri-V0x3p-CukmTKPRiRTy6HZQXl3vF0UfxReHP4VxM3cbJ9EIKLhZnPHswgG8FcIetKH_Rw-1s-hZJxjP8R0tAP/s400/2012-04-21_12-20-14_932.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Youngest to oldest: Lapin Cherry, Pristine Apple, Zestar Apple, Harken Peach</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Before we planted each tree, I took out each child's placenta and buried it in the loose soil at the bottom of the hole. It felt so good to return to the soil something that had nourished my babies as they grew. It could only have been more complete if I had been returning them to soil that I had actually eaten food grown from while pregnant. Nevertheless, participating in the cycle of life and decay into life again was poignant. I hope the trees will be happy in their new soil and grow strong with abundant fruit just like the children to whom they belong.Charis-Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06256536761137911106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8534418294315388987.post-17474906568007826262012-03-01T11:04:00.000-08:002012-03-01T11:04:01.724-08:00A month old already...<div style="text-align: center;"><em>Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting; <br />
The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,<br />
Hath had elsewhere its setting<br />
And cometh from afar;<br />
Not in entire forgetfulness,<br />
And not in utter nakedness,<br />
But trailing clouds of glory do we come <br />
From God, who is our home:<br />
Heaven lies about us in our infancy! *</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><em></em>How is it that our sweet newborn baby is already four weeks old? <br />
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Her birth came halfway between Winter Solstice and Spring Equinox, just as the daylight became noticeably longer. As she grows we are beginning to discover her personality. Her favorite hold is on daddy's arm like a football. She likes floating in the bath with mommy. Being a fourth child, she has no small warm up cry, only fidgeting and then full on wails to be heard over the din of her siblings. True to form she stepped up nursing to meet her three week growth spurt and now her shirts barely cover the roundness of her tummy. And like the longer days, her very blue eyes are open more to the world around her (<em>just not in this picture</em>).<br />
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She has grown into her name even though we often still call her Pretzel . We were shy to tell anyone the name we had chosen for her. It was still new to us because we had only discovered it the day before she was born. Since she came on Groundhog's Day/ Candlemas, I think it was only fitting that she had a Gaelic name. Zybeal is a version of Isabel, which is Hebrew, Spanish or English in origin, meaning consecrated or devoted to God. So in the end, we succeeded in finding a name that is Hebrew and passes for Irish and fits most of the other guidelines I blogged about previously. But we also succeeded again, ahem, in naming our kid something most people will mispronounce. So for that reason, we call her Zibby and that seems easy enough.<br />
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Another blessing to come from having Zibby is the blossoming of a lifetime bond between her and Selah. The oldest will hold the youngest anytime, in fact, even when you are enjoying holding the youngest and don't need relief. They are almost 9 years apart and though they won't be close playmates, their mutual admiration grows. These are the lessons of having a baby I am so glad to witness.<br />
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">*by William Wordsworth from his Ode on Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood</span></em>Charis-Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06256536761137911106noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8534418294315388987.post-87402311280710451292012-02-25T11:19:00.006-08:002012-02-25T11:49:40.245-08:00She-Ra no more: Birth number four.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir9-r6Df0sNWUOdy-r_KFGXJO7y3yomfoLO4whc6q8Ewueo-3G7WGzxhBf527D4SJ47rJmUQCHX9gmNp6rEtsFYPqjTi0soo8NfIjX0_wiA3C0oRCjyOSODsaexcmT829DH5t2qxqJyNmV/s1600/she_ra_princess_power.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="321" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir9-r6Df0sNWUOdy-r_KFGXJO7y3yomfoLO4whc6q8Ewueo-3G7WGzxhBf527D4SJ47rJmUQCHX9gmNp6rEtsFYPqjTi0soo8NfIjX0_wiA3C0oRCjyOSODsaexcmT829DH5t2qxqJyNmV/s400/she_ra_princess_power.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
She’s beautiful, healthy, whole, and adored.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But mama just feels kind of old and tired now. As I rested in bed those first days and read magazines and nursed my newborn, my attention was suddenly stolen by ads for anti-aging balms and wrinkle creams. It dawned on me that I wasn’t a 25-year-old –first-time-mom any more and I had some experience showing up on my face. I wanted four children since the time I decided I wanted children at all. Having the last baby gives me a sense of closure and a sense that time has indeed caught up with me. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVkwlzl-_GK2ijD3R4B6GC1Y_5NGn9zWN_Ig5lHIkPqpsxrMXpS0XaWN-cxNgAtatB3kH_DvaoHrU30g4a4bJAiQe2fM5WJGTajXSiiNj8O5XcXnkxJuzu-RkL9qBNrr2SQfU7mOKIGRed/s1600/2012-02-06+12.55.28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVkwlzl-_GK2ijD3R4B6GC1Y_5NGn9zWN_Ig5lHIkPqpsxrMXpS0XaWN-cxNgAtatB3kH_DvaoHrU30g4a4bJAiQe2fM5WJGTajXSiiNj8O5XcXnkxJuzu-RkL9qBNrr2SQfU7mOKIGRed/s400/2012-02-06+12.55.28.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">three sisters... but proud</td></tr>
</tbody></table>As I look back on my four births, I have found a way to describe each of them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My first was about the journey through the unknown and proving to naysayers that I could indeed do birth without pain relief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was also about discovering that birth is one part of the equation and recovering from birth and learning to breastfeed were also parts of the equation I wish somebody had mentioned.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">intro to motherhood</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Births two and three were about finding my groove, correcting misperceptions from my first birth, and doing it even better than before. When they were over, I felt like doing a touch down dance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt powerful and undaunted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was high on the experiences.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPm1Y86kLrDh6CMPlirbWxSUUolL98-ERE99vMvQaE9pXGvU9Fiyj-Q3380F790jPb2dtDKb0dT5jS2zABw5cfzrlZ_Y2WK63QwzwbkCu0r77rTvlBvFmNy7P_IYieh-lCGYwrqklV4tcG/s1600/The+Birth+of+Jude+066.jpg~RFa76441.TMP" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPm1Y86kLrDh6CMPlirbWxSUUolL98-ERE99vMvQaE9pXGvU9Fiyj-Q3380F790jPb2dtDKb0dT5jS2zABw5cfzrlZ_Y2WK63QwzwbkCu0r77rTvlBvFmNy7P_IYieh-lCGYwrqklV4tcG/s400/The+Birth+of+Jude+066.jpg~RFa76441.TMP" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">two's company</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhieo7FwN5p5Y26WV-eFfFIZPVrIgzcIPsb-drEaVj_BL8IefbBUfQbpY81iPGcjrNBXj6rpD3CysSz1plGs_V8DAbggRaiTHVZVIRKBZmSPCPeEPzDdmagMo390vC94jojeXz3-DbBEQ-B/s1600/IMG_6792.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhieo7FwN5p5Y26WV-eFfFIZPVrIgzcIPsb-drEaVj_BL8IefbBUfQbpY81iPGcjrNBXj6rpD3CysSz1plGs_V8DAbggRaiTHVZVIRKBZmSPCPeEPzDdmagMo390vC94jojeXz3-DbBEQ-B/s400/IMG_6792.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">then there were three</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Yet birth number four was so different. I could feel the difference during my pregnancy. I had a lower tolerance for pain, less stamina, and a lot less to prove. When labor started, I was excited but worn out. When horse lips and blowing raspberries got me through other births, this one required the invention of whale-song (that my hubby heard for a few days afterward even though I wasn’t singing anymore). While my other births centered around and in a tub, this time the tub wasn’t the relief I wanted it to provide. Somethings were the same. My husband was amazing. Like a man in his element, he is the ultimate “dude-la”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I always wonder how other women do it without a husband like mine. He remains my hero through all four births. My friend and doula, only a few weeks behind me in her own pregnancy, gave me the consistency I needed through this last birth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Having been with me for births two through four, her presence gave me confidence and a sort of walking record of what helps me and what doesn’t. Still, with all this support, I was so crabby this time, so full of complaints and woe-is-me attitude.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All I can figure is that my body was done doing this, that my mind wasn’t in the game, and that I was glad it was the last time.</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVSwpObJ2x0MAp7YReBZtWCQDHVSpkbQZzWYzPvR72hu_MdoZIKX7zi2JXvGF7y4pQvAjfZjjp1XTxAbrphtf3K0CDzPH4M6SfBAv855S0_0G8wrUfgD-GROtWy3PLEATFqoSKh_Ex4SR5/s1600/IMG_9617.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVSwpObJ2x0MAp7YReBZtWCQDHVSpkbQZzWYzPvR72hu_MdoZIKX7zi2JXvGF7y4pQvAjfZjjp1XTxAbrphtf3K0CDzPH4M6SfBAv855S0_0G8wrUfgD-GROtWy3PLEATFqoSKh_Ex4SR5/s400/IMG_9617.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">oldest and youngest</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I wanted to say that I couldn’t do this. But just as I was about to utter, “I can’t do this anymore,” I had to stop myself and rephrase it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why? Because my lovely 9 year old daughter was witness to this birth. We have a saying in our house when the kids complain that they can’t do something, we always reply, “Kellers can, Kellers try.” So I said it was hard and I just wanted to rest. When I let my midwife check me and she found that I was “only” 5 cm dilated, I could have had a very demoralizing meltdown was it not for the history of birth number 3 in which I was “only” 6 cm dilated, but then pushed a baby out 20 minutes later. I am not sure exactly how much time it took between 5 cm and pushing number four out, but it was less than an hour. Less than a very long feeling hour, but still not exactly an average chart of dilation. Then she was here! Just like birth number 3, my doula had to fetch the midwife in time to catch. As much as I tried to savor the last time the gates of my body threw forth a life into this world, I was just plain tired.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Don't get me wrong, </span>I was also pleased and relieved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I held my new daughter in great happiness and joy. I nursed her and she nursed greedily and again it was a throwback to my first attempts at nursing a newborn: it hurt! How could this be after my 9 years of breastfeeding experience? Now, three weeks later, it’s a non issue. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9aTRuVRvg9SOux1VeV0IP-cwl5pC9gqkXGKq133xjTRJGtTRT9RTEZkLlrDIdQU5-SVsNcwwpEW3d-FK0jYbt_z1ZzrR-4SxHYagxkyRXQOdM96Wk4in_949TnCIjNGP1Gk0PL3nu3Xsx/s1600/IMG_9693.JPG%257ERFa6ec06.TMP" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9aTRuVRvg9SOux1VeV0IP-cwl5pC9gqkXGKq133xjTRJGtTRT9RTEZkLlrDIdQU5-SVsNcwwpEW3d-FK0jYbt_z1ZzrR-4SxHYagxkyRXQOdM96Wk4in_949TnCIjNGP1Gk0PL3nu3Xsx/s400/IMG_9693.JPG%257ERFa6ec06.TMP" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">first time big sister</td></tr>
</tbody></table> When I look back, my last birth is a good birth in the catalog of births. I was surrounded with people I trust, and the outcome of a healthy mother and healthy baby was a success. As I regain my energy and my enthusiasm for the new normal in our home, I am delighted with my history as a birther, but also delighted its history. Thus, if wrinkle cream is all I need to “face” the future, I have no complaints. Finding time to apply a cream daily- well that’s the challenge, and in the end nowhere even close to a priority. Savoring my baby is my true impulse. Loving my family and its new shape and personality is my pleasure and life’s work. What a wonderful blessing it all is.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5d32eD1GHgJJHuSvMsXO4MrdOWIdNKEuWzJKXtIuUKEDLt8yEyep350W7u5-tSigBGMgz7NQVdDTMgP4uxH7K8KlpS8ASEoIhomMAnXpckn1fHSuDN5ow5_pMvRXYyuoo4neWRuHnKFkj/s1600/IMG_9632.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5d32eD1GHgJJHuSvMsXO4MrdOWIdNKEuWzJKXtIuUKEDLt8yEyep350W7u5-tSigBGMgz7NQVdDTMgP4uxH7K8KlpS8ASEoIhomMAnXpckn1fHSuDN5ow5_pMvRXYyuoo4neWRuHnKFkj/s400/IMG_9632.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">connect four</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div></div>Charis-Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06256536761137911106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8534418294315388987.post-33955174769213458192012-01-18T13:15:00.000-08:002012-01-18T13:15:31.264-08:00Waiting for Pretzel<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-ryV5SdRbA-UUc7241MHI0JTLxdi4UFIEDnHHpngZYbtK169kcqz0DYq9orQczM4z8eolzL6ZOzhi3RUn_txBqQnGdYa0zoBvls9hU-wUvlzguJkAJ3lko9-Js62jX_eV7Qt1YL5NveP3/s1600/IMG_1247.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-ryV5SdRbA-UUc7241MHI0JTLxdi4UFIEDnHHpngZYbtK169kcqz0DYq9orQczM4z8eolzL6ZOzhi3RUn_txBqQnGdYa0zoBvls9hU-wUvlzguJkAJ3lko9-Js62jX_eV7Qt1YL5NveP3/s400/IMG_1247.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
It finally looks like winter. The kids are outside playing in the snow as it comes quickly down. The whole picture is more what I had in mind when I imagined giving birth at the end of January. Here I am at almost 38 weeks along! Her birth is imminent and I am able to acknowledge our lives are about to change again.<br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">I had a very soul nurturing baby shower this last weekend. As my friends and family held candles and shared their prayers, intentions and wishes for me, Pretzel, and our family, I was deeply struck by the heartfelt openness in the room. It was a Mother Blessing and I soaked it in like lotion in my dry cracked hands. I am so grateful for my sister and mother-in-law who worked together to make it happen.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">With a freshly painted bedroom (thank you honey, and my father-in-law), a few meals in the freezer, a glider soon to be delivered, and the first load of freshly washed newborn clothes waiting for the dresser, the only thing we are missing is a name for this little girl. I love her nickname, Pretzel, but it won’t do as a legal name.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">When I am up until midnight and later, tossing and turning on my sides, and arranging pillows “just so” for my comfort, I think about names. I think about our selection process. I think about all the names I like the sound of but not the meaning, or vice versa. At first I thought we should choose a name that follows the other children’s names. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Those guidelines are as follows: </div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><ul><li>Hebrew in origin</li>
<li>The first letter and the last sound are original and not shared with any sibling</li>
<li>The name includes the letters, “a”, “e”, and “l”</li>
<li>Can not end in “k” or the sound will be lost when we say their first and last name “Keller”</li>
<li>We like the meaning and it points to something in nature</li>
<li>Last and least important, it could pass for something Irish even though it’s Hebrew in origin</li>
</ul><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">But now I am ready to throw all those parameters out the window and just find a name we like! Similar to many of my previous personal choices about birth and naming, this precious fourth child has already challenged all of those processes. Perhaps it’s only fitting she might come with her own rules. As the snowflakes fall, I think about their individuality. I think about them being as numerous as the stars. I think, “I only need to name four human beings, what’s so hard about that?” Perhaps when the right name comes to us, she will too.</div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Charis-Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06256536761137911106noreply@blogger.com0