Monday morning. The boys went back to school today after a two-week winter vacation. Suddenly the house is quiet and the little dog is wandering around. He’s gone back to Asher’s bed to snooze five times now.

It has been a marvelous two weeks. Plenty of rest and play, plenty of knitting and painting and gardening, plenty of little brown dog.  We have also had plenty of bickering, having to share, and learning how to get along and what to do/not do when you’re not getting along. Although this part isn’t sweet and peaceful and the stuff of most blogs, it’s also important family work.

Lucas bravely walked out the door this morning with all his fourth-grade animal report and two eager helpers (Daddy and Asher) to carry it all. It is a paper report, a 16 by 20 acrylic painting and a diorama of the fennec fox in its habitat. It turns out the report is actually due tomorrow, but I think he’s so happy and relieved to have it done.

For his diorama he used brown paper (which came to us in a package as packing material) to simulate desert sand dunes of the Sahara Desert in Africa and a fennec fox burrow. He sprayed the paper with spray adhesive and then carefully sprinkled sand over the whole thing and a little bit of sawdust. The fennec foxes are made from Sculpey clay and painted with craft acrylics. More (unbaked) Sculpey clay and some grasses complete the environment. I think it looks great!

This weekend we did a lot of project work and also quite a bit of household reorganization. We weeded out some books for the used book store and Ian tackled the craft/game closet and reorganized it. It’s lovely that he did that because I sometimes have a hard time letting go of things “that we might someday need.” My office needs the same kind of attention. I worked in the garden a bit, pruning the roses and other shrubs, watering, etc. We’re having such a warm winter (I guess to balance our cool 2011 summer?) that I’ve had to water. No rains have come yet and we have roses blooming in January. I have some more planting to do and hope to pick up a few bare-root roses that typically appear in the shops this time of year.

I’m starting a new work project today. The timing couldn’t be better. The quiet of today feels blissful. I can hear myself think again.

Lucas is deep into his fourth grade animal report. He is actually done with all the hardest parts. The research is done, the report is written, edited, and the final draft has been done. It’s illuminated beautifully and lacks only an illustration and a cover design. Lucas consulted three books and a website to learn about the African desert fox.

These last two days before his deadline are dedicated to the art of his report. He has to model his animal in 3-D and create a diorama of the animal in its environment. We are working on how to make a desert scene.

Lucas also has to paint his animal so the painting can be displayed at the front of the class during his oral presentation. He considered watercolors but elected to use acrylics and canvas for his painting. I didn’t see anything in the instructions barring this option, so that’s what he is working on today.

He paints with a sort of flair, I think. I love this kid!

He has lots more work to do still, but I’m so proud of how he has approached this extensive, multipart, multimedia project. I am proud of his skill and his artistic eye. I’m also delighted with how easily the writing portion went. I watch him unfolding and expanding and becoming more every day with astonishment and gratitude. Imagine—this amazing, soulful being came to us! And I am honored.

“Saint Giles, His Bells,” watercolor by Charles Altamont Doyle

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,

The flying cloud, the frosty light;

The year is dying in the night;

Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

 

Ring out the old, ring in the new,

Ring, happy bells, across the snow;

The year is going, let him go;

Ring out the false, ring in the true.

 

Ring out the grief that saps the mind,

For those that here we see no more,

Ring out the feud of rich and poor,

Ring in redress to all mankind.

 

Ring out a slowly dying cause,

And ancient forms of party strife;

Ring in the nobler modes of life,

With sweeter manners, purer laws.

 

Ring out the want, the care the sin,

The faithless coldness of the times;

Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes,

But ring the fuller minstrel in.

 

Ring out false pride in place and blood,

The civic slander and the spite;

Ring in the love of truth and right,

Ring in the common love of good.

 

Ring out old shapes of foul disease,

Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;

Ring out the thousand wars of old,

Ring in the thousand years of peace.

 

Ring in the valiant man and free,

The larger heart, the kindlier hand;

Ring out the darkness of the land,

Ring in the Christ that is to be.

—Alfred, Lord Tennyson

These holy, family days have been so full. We are enjoying. Resting.

Coloring.

Playing with so, so many wonderful gifts.

We have had long, luxurious visits from friends, and a sweet party that we are very honored to host.

The little dog, Solstice, is a great joy to us all. We still don’t know where he is from. We haven’t had even a single nibble on the ads we placed, hoping to find his owners. In the meantime, whatever the outcome, we are enjoying him ever so much. And now I have someone new and fluffy to point my camera at.

We’ve been reading new books in our leisure and drinking too much delicious coffee. Nursing head colds.

Experimenting with magical ice … to see what we can make, of course.

Cutting snowflakes and folding window stars. (LOVE!)

After all the working>making>striving>doing>going> leading up to and including Christmas day, we are now fully and happily settled into our hibernation days, our holy, family days. There is plenty to do—very little of it is urgent. So perhaps we’ll do some laundry. Or cook. Or play more Legos or a game. Or go for another walk instead …

Or climb a tree …

while we learn more about each other …

and see what we can find along the way.

The Solstice either was yesterday or is today, depending on where you live and how you figure it. We decided to celebrate last night, at the end of the shortest day.

I spent some wonderful alone time yesterday morning making jam from persimmons that my friend G gave to me. They were so ripe and delicious, and made amazing cookies too a few days ago. The boys were in school and I had the house to myself.

I also got to have lunch out with my dear friend, NoNo, which was wonderful. As usual, I dreamed up a little Solstice celebration for our family at the last minute.

Best laid plans of mice and mommies. I was going to have the kids help me make this giant sun cookie for dessert, but I ended up doing it alone. While my children were outside enjoying the last hour of sunshine, they came across a cute little dog wandering on his own at the local school. None of the nearby people claimed him, and when my children walked home, he followed.

He is a handsome fellow.

Frankly, everyone is perfectly smitten with this dog. He seems young and spry, but doesn’t nip or crew or mouth. He is well behaved. I sent Ian and the boys right out to see if they could find the owners, but they came home without having any luck. This is why I made the sun cookie alone. (The recipe is from Mel’s Kitchen Cafe here, and I used Reese’s peanut butter chips and Reese’s pieces candies to mosaic a face. It came out perfectly.)

See the star? Neat, huh? Ian made red beans and rice for dinner and we had sunshiny oranges and sun-shaped squash with our salad. We ate by candlelight on the floor by the fire.

After dinner, Ian took the dog to the local vet to see if there was a microchip that would tell us where he belongs. No chip. Today we put up flyers around the area and have talked to a bunch of our neighbors. So far, we haven’t found his home. This little dog is so nice, I’m sure someone somewhere is missing him. In the meantime, the boys and Ian have fallen in love with him. It feels like everyone is hoping we will keep this dog. Lucas wants to name him Solstice, which is a big name for a little dog. And yes, I am allergic to him.

“Moonlit Night. Winter” 1913. Oil on canvas. Konstantin Alekseevich Korovin. The Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Russia.

Midwinter’s Eve

In the darkness of the winter
In the stillness of the night
We are searching the horizon
For the first rays of light

The owl flies by in silence
As the fox lifts up an ear
To hear the North wind cry out
At the birth of the new year

Though the earth below is frozen
Search beneath for hidden spring
Cup your hands
Drink the water
In communion with all things
—Claudia Chapman

May all be warm and merry on this Solstice night. May we find the light within each other and ourselves. Blessed be.

This is my mantel for Christmas. Although I don’t buy new decorations every year, I do try to think of new ways to display them. I’m pretty happy with this one; it’s simple and sweet and repurposes some old items in a new way. In front of this hearth is where my children draw and play with Legos nearly every day.

I used an old store-bought (plastic?) garland of “greenery” and added our collection of Waldorf woolen angels. I think we’ve received one wool angel per year for the last six years or so. They didn’t go up on our tree this year because our tree is smaller than usual. But I couldn’t not put them out. I think they look terrific in a group this way.

I indulged in buying one new Christmas decoration this year: a box of 15 straw star ornaments for $7.99. I adore them. They are so intricate and pretty, and look just right here.

The truth is I have materials for making such straw star ornaments, which are a traditional German Christmas decoration, but I haven’t had time to sit down and try to figure out how. I have a package of natural color straw and red straw. I have gold thread and red thread for tying off intersections in the stars. I secretly hope to have a few free hours to play with this, however, I admit I’m doubting I will. It looks really hard to me.

This is the nativity scene that my grandmother bought me about ten years ago. It’s porcelain and fancy and very colorful and, although I never would have bought it,  I love it. Each year when I unwrap it, I say a silent prayer and hope that we don’t accidentally break it. After Christmas I carefully pack it back into the original box in the hopes that it will be safe another year. It is sitting on a cloth I wove myself.

These are my “Waldorf” resin angels. I bought them at a craft fair a few years back for $6 each. I call them Waldorf because they are faceless. In the vase are dried daylily stems from my garden. I collect them as they dry out because they’re interesting to me and I’m always trying to use found natural items in my crafting. Ian thinks I’m nuts because I save these, especially as I usually don’t have any idea how I’m going to use them. The group on the right is still merely rubberbanded together. I like that they are so tall and so bleached out.

Today I saw a blog with the most amazing Christmas decorations I have ever seen. The home that was featured was so exquisitely beautiful it looked like a whole team of stylists were on staff full-time and that no one lived there at all. There wasn’t a single item out of place or bit of evidence that a child even walked through. It was glitzy and glamorous and completely soulless. It also looked like entire villages of people could be fed for months on what was spent to decorate that home, and that realization made me feel rather ill. Frankly, it was obscene—a word I don’t use lightly. That display of wealth and glitter made me feel so weird and conflicted that I almost didn’t write this post about my nifty mantel that I hodgepodged together. I mean, isn’t this the same kind of thing on a “poor-girl” scale?

Aesthetics are highly individual. Surrounding ourselves with art and beauty is one of the pleasures of life. Doing so lifts my spirits and helps me to feel like I’m raising children in a happy, intentional home. The creation of and appreciation for art is a celebration of our humanness, one of the crowning jewels of humanity. I don’t need or desire to be judgmental about the way that other people express themselves. I just know that if I had that kind of money, I wouldn’t be using it that way. I’d be feeding people.

I don’t own this little treasure, Fletcher and the Falling Leaves, by Julia Rawlinson, but I will someday. This sweet book is one I discovered because I enjoy the illustrations of Tiphanie Beeke, who illustrated The Stars Will Still Shine, by Cynthia Rylant, a book I wrote about a while ago here.

Rawlinson has created a touching story of a little fox named Fletcher (Ferdie in the UK) who has a favorite tree. When the autumn weather comes and the tree begins to lose leaves, Fletcher becomes worried and tries to help his friend keep its leaves.

Each day, more and more leaves turn brown and flutter down to the ground.

This painting is marvelous, full of movement and emotion. This is rather what winter looks like to me, as we get no snow where we live. The autumn leaves hang onto the trees well into December until eventually the winds and the rains knock them off. Then everything becomes muted browns and soft greens and foggy grays.

Fletcher even tries to get the friendly birds to put the leaves back on the tree.

When all the leaves have fallen off, Fletcher feels that he has failed his friend.

The next morning he discovers his tree covered with silver icicles.  Winter has arrived and it’s breathtaking. “’You are more beautiful than ever,’ whispered Fletcher. ‘But are you all right?’
‘A tiny breeze shivered the branches, making a sound like laughter, and in the light of the rising sun, the sparkling branches nodded.’

Fletcher’s naive experience of the turning of the seasons is moving. He makes discoveries in nature with a childlike wonder that is ever so appealing. Paired with Beeke’s evocative illustrations, Rawlinson’s book is pure delight. I see that Rawlinson has written two other Fletcher stories as well: Fletcher and the Snowflake Christmas and Fletcher and the Springtime Blossoms. Both are also illustrated by Beeke.

My Winter Book Recommendations

In mid-November I went back to my painting class after a two month hiatus. I had to earn some dough before I could return to class. In the time that I was away from it, my stress levels soared, I got depressed, and things looked bleak. I’m not saying all of this was related to not painting—there was plenty of other stuff going on. But I remember thinking during all of that, I just want to paint. I yearned for it. I decided for the sake of my mental health that continuing my classes was good for me.

And it is. I’m now three more classes in and I’m still loving it. This is a series of three paintings of a copper kettle. The first was the black and white one above. We were instructed to use only Payne’s gray and white. The point of the study was to focus only on value and not on color. I have a lot to learn about this, but value is the relationship of dark and light. With the two paint colors I mixed a middle gray, then a light gray and a dark gray.

Modern Color Wheel from My Class

Goethe’s Color Wheel (for Fun and Because It’s Pretty)

After Thanksgiving we were given a new exercise: Paint the same subject in basically the same position on the same background using complementary colors, which are opposite on the color wheel. When mixed in equal proportions, they should create a neutral gray. I’ve learned that in painting “gray” is not so specific a shade as it is in my mind. There are lots of grays and, well, isn’t that wonderful?

This second study above was painted with a blue-green and a red-orange. All the colors you see were mixed from those two and then tinted with white to ultimately fill my palette with 15 different colors. My kettle wasn’t in the exact same position as in the first study, but the effect is the same. (I just noticed there is a diagonal shadow in the bottom right corner of these photos. That’s not in the painting; it’s in my window and the photographs.)

This one is last night’s study: same kettle, different exercise. The point of this study was to use three colors from the color wheel, a triad. (A color scheme in which three colors of equidistant distribution on the color wheel are used, e.g., red, blue, and yellow.) We could pick any three, so long as they had the right relationship to each other. I chose green, orange, and violet. I mixed and mixed these three colors and then tinted with white to get roughly 17 colors on my palette. Just doing this was awesome. I also had three goals in mind when I was painting this third kettle study: 1) paint a little faster, 2) paint thicker (use more paint), and 3) take more risks.

Now, this copper kettle isn’t exactly the thing I want to have a painting of in my home, much less three paintings. But this was a fascinating exercise and I’m so glad I did this. I have a much greater appreciation for color and mixing than ever before. Also, I no longer feel that every painting has to prove anything. The doing of it was the thing.

Kind old man Saint Nicholas, dear,
Come into our house this year.
Here’s some straw and here’s some hay
For your little donkey gray.

Pray put something into my shoe;
I’ve been good the whole year through.
Kind old man Saint Nicholas dear,
Come into our house this year.

I’m feeling so grateful for all the amazing, creative support we have received over the years and continue to receive from our Waldorf school, especially with regard to festivals. Today, when I picked him up from school, my 4.5-year-old son Asher was clutching a small handful of hay (tied neatly with a piece of yarn) to give to Saint Nicholas’s donkey. Honestly, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anything cuter than my little guy, manfully carrying his lunch box and water bottle at the end of a long day, with this little bit of hay in his fist.

I’m actually (blissfully) ready for Saint Nicholas’s Day this year. This is not always the case, I assure you! In years past, Nicholas has come to our house on December 7. But this year I’ve got goodies for my dovies’ shoes all ready. I also have this handsome Saint Nicholas that I made last year. Today I put out a pretty display and asked Asher who it was. “Saint Nicholas!” he said with that special sophistication that only a younger sibling can have.

The other reason I’m feeling gratful—at the moment—is because I just spent a half hour going through two giant binders full of Waldorf materials that I’ve been given and gathered over the last eight years to pull out more Advent poems, Saint Nicholas stories, Santa Lucia recipes and more. These festivals have enriched my children’s lives—and mine—so much, even though they mean extra work and extra mindfulness. I have a deep love for any holiday that includes magic that happens in the dark of night, to be revealed only by the light of the dawn—to the delight of my whole family. In our home, many holidays involve this kind of nighttime miracle.

And so, we will see what happens tomorrow morning, after the shoes have been polished and placed neatly by the front door. We’ll leave out our carrot and that sweet clutch of hay for Saint Nicholas’s donkey in the hopes that they will visit us in the night and decide that we’ve been good—good enough, perhaps, for a treat or two.