Woody

I'm in Barnes and Noble drinking decaf coffee, my new passion - I didn't drink any coffee for years because I don't handle the caffeine well (such a delicate creature) but all of a sudden I want it all the time. I guess passion will do that to you, and somehow you handle the side effects. Anyway, it's the strength of the flavor, I think. It's delicious, and I love how the flavour stays in your mouth and that last sip which is always sugary? Oh, mmmmm...
So I am sitting here happily breathing coffee breath while ominous clouds gather outside, and even though I should be working on a facet of my business plan that I have to show someone tomorrow, in true V. style I am instead working on showing what else I have been working on.



















This is Woody, my imaginitively named Woodkin, inspired by the artwork of Lauren Mills in the book 'Fairy Wings'. Her work in that book drives my creative heart into a little frenzy and every time I open it I have a surge of delight and inspiration. Not a lot of time though, so he is all I have managed so far. But I do have plans - big plans. As always.



















His face and body are needlefelted, his boots and tunic are wet felted and he has little bead buttons on his boots and embroidery as well as his buckeye hat. He's about 8" tall - a nice, substantial little handful of Woodkin.



















Here he is posing in the park where I like to walk in the mornings and listening to the birds.
And now I am off into the ominously darkening day to clean a house - but not my own, unfortunately.
Oh, and if you stop by here - leave a comment, will you please? I know you've been here, I have my sources, and yea, I lurk too, I do, so I understand how you feel. But I lurk on sites where people are getting 40 comments - they don't need mine. But I need yours, I do.
You know how to do it, right? Just hit the little link that says how many comments there are. Be anonymous if you like. But I need you. I. need. you. You.
Thanks.

Michaelmas

Of all the festivals we celebrate in Anthroposophy and the Waldorf schools, my favorite is Michaelmas. It celebrates the power within each of us to overcome the coldness of winter, both in the real and metaphoric sense. This time is seen as an opportunity for inner strength and renewal, an awakening of the soul after summers slumber.



















I'm always so happy to live here where we get four seasons at this time of year, as the leaves turn and the harvest comes in and 'mums appear in everyones gardens and porches. And I really feel that inspiring shift that comes at summer's end, when evenings become for reading and curling up warm and starting those projects that summer was just too expansive for.



















We have been having Michaelmas dinner for ten years now with our same friends, and this year we invited a new family, with littler children and one on the way.



















Busy as I am right now, it wasn't a big event. But the tables were all set with 'mums from the garden and decorated candles. The house was clean. We baked dragon bread, special because it is spiced with cardamom, and made vegetable soup with all produce bought at the farmers market. We held hands and said grace, and we ate and enjoyed each others company and built a bonfire outside when it was dark.















And today, it really feels like autumn. The light is low and clear, and outside it is cool and very quiet. I feel energized and inspired, and peaceful, and really glad that we took time out from our lives to just be, because sometimes that feels like the last thing we can manage.
But that is what the festivals ask of us and give to us, reminding us that our lives are about something bigger than our everyday to do lists.

And finally, whether your season is turning to Spring or Fall, may the Archangel Michael spread his wings over all of us.

Thirty Five

For my thirty-fifth birthday today we let the kids skivvy off school and took them to a wide beach of Lake Erie to play.



















The children had a lovely time and were thrilled not to be at school, the poor overworked things.



















We climbed out over the breakwall, and Skaterboy was thrilled to catch a fish with the rather startling name, Black Crappie. Not to be confused, apparently, with Bondi Cigars, which is what it makes me think of.















We collected beach glass, smooth stones and pretty shells, and had a wild game of monkey in the middle in the water.















I had the full thirty-five candles on my cake, which really set it blazing. It would be reasonable I think, to expect that not withstanding something drastic and unforeseen, I must be about halfway through my journey here. And as my Dad so astutely pointed out, the slide is greased in this direction.



















Thanks Dad. I'll take that wisdom and my beautiful stolen day at the beach with me into my thirty-sixth year.

This is How it Begins...

...with a single, delicately tinted leaf laying on your front yard. Not having seen one for nine months it's as though you never have, and you pause for a moment to crouch over it and admire it's subtle merge of gold and red. The sun is warm on your back, and the cicadas are singing in the trees around you. If the children are near you call them to look at it with you, and they run over on bare feet to exclaim in wonder too, as though leaves that turn from glossy green to sunset are something they have never seen before either.



















You straighten up and squint into the top of the sweetgum tree to reassure yourself that all is still summer, and the tree obliges you by waving it's thick, fully leafed branches against the cornflower blue sky. Satisfied that autumn is definitely not on it's way you return happily to the illusion that summer lasts forever.



















But this is how it begins, this is the beginning. And also, the ending.
Tomorrow my babies start full day kindergarten, and my life as a stay at home mother - almost thirteen years, ends. This day has been coming for years, in all those small ways, and every time a moment came I would delight in its beauty, but not really allow myself to see that the accumulation of such moments would lead to a new season. And tomorrow I'll probably ask myself the same questions I ask when fall becomes an undeniable reality.
Where did the summer go?
Did I relish it properly?
And did I really take time to just enjoy its fleeting beauty?

I've Been Tagged (gulp)

I've been tagged by Tracy at Madquilter (thanks mum for dobbing me in) and it's taken me a while to respond because I've been away at school in New York. When I'm there the rest of the world just sort of falls away (it's lovely), but I'm back, and nervously contemplating what I will dare admit about myself.

I believe I have to list the rules so here they are:
Each player lists 8 facts/habits about themselves. The rules of the game are posted at the beginning before those facts/habits are listed. At the end of the post, the player then tags 8 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know that they have been tagged and asking them to read your blog.

Anyway, here's my bravely compiled list:

1. I wanted to be a photographer but spent too much time at the pub while I was in college and failed my courses.
2. I believe in karma.
3. I love music and singing but am totally tone deaf.
4. I was born in the year of the Rat.
5. My first car was a 1968 Morris Mini named Eliot but my favorite car ever was the Minor.
6. All my children were born at home.
7. I long to keep chickens and bees.
8. I got my nose pierced 16 years ago after drinking Guinness with a Scotsman named Ian, and I still love it.

Hmmm. Interesting how the list is bookended by alcohol-related life events. I actually drink very little any more, but clearly it had it's importance.

Well, I am new to this blogging, but will tag as best I can.
BuddyRooster,
Harley, say hi to the crafting ladies,
Maureen, my mum's dear friend,
St Fiacre's Acre

I'll keep thinking about the rest....

Summertime

Before I disappeared for three weeks to school in New York and left the family to fend for itself, I had the pleasure of finishing Belle's (ahem) Christmas present. It was a little late, granted, and she did ride me for six months, but the dolly turned out lovely, and I'm glad the girl insisted I meet my obligations. She's not going to be asking for many more of these, I don't think.


















The last week of summer vacation is almost upon us. Black raspberries are ripe at the ravine at the top of our street, and we have been indulging ourselves there, to the tune of aching tummies, stained clothing, and a dog with a thorn in his foot.



















Nonetheless, it's beautiful up there in the summer twilight - lush, green and golden. And a perfect berry? There's nothing like it.



















Another favorite summer destination, our friends house on Lake Erie.















Water, sun, happy dogs,















golden children,













corn and watermelon. A recipe for summer bliss.















As excited as some of us are about school starting, it would really be okay if these days never ended, too.

Sulphur Springs

On really hot days, like some we had last week,



















there is nothing else to do than



















hop in the car, un-airconditioned as it is,



















(don't forget the dog), and make our way out to our favorite hot - day spot,



















the ever cool and lovely, Sulphur Springs. (It smells better than it sounds).















My digital camera wants only to use it's flash down in the creek, but the light is too beautiful to let it, so I compromise, and take mostly blurry photographs. It's in situations like this that I miss my dear old K1000.



















Anyway, a perfect example of Ohio's largely unsung natural beauty, at Sulphur Springs we can walk down the creek bed















holding hands to avoid the oops it's slippery factor, amidst craggy rocks and gnarled evergreens,



















and generally meander about in the delicious shade,



















until we arrive at the waterfall and rock pool, where we can wade up to our bellies,















and really indulge in some serious small fry hunting.















Oh, Sulphur Springs, we've loved you for years, and last week we loved you no less.