Farewell, Nana. I love you.

I conned Ian into taking Monday, November 1st off work. Lucas’s school is not in session the day after Halloween. Some clever administrator or teacher realized that it’s not wise to try to keep kids under control after a late night and sugary treats. We pulled Asher out of preschool for the day and took a little drive.

We were determined to squeeze a bit more fun out of our weekend. We were celebrating Day of the Dead, in our own way, and Lucas’s half birthday. He is now officially 8 and a half years old. Day of the Dead or All Souls’ Day has never been a holiday in our two families, but since it marks Lucas’s half birthday, it has come to hold a special place in our year.

We decided that a trip to Apple Hill would be the perfect seasonal family outing, and with a little research, Ian found a very nice old cemetery to visit in gold country, Near Latrobe, California. Bryant Cemetery was established in 1848.

We wandered about and read the headstones, wondering about the lives of the pioneers who came out west and lived in California during the gold rush and the years following. We saw that many families’ were buried together, and that the people often died young. We tried to put into perspective for Lucas how long ago that was: no cars, people used horses and carts to travel, they would have carried water from rivers and streams, and so on.

This is Asher pretending to be a dead person.

The cemetery was small and quiet, shaded with beautiful valley oak trees. Some were dropping giant acorns quite near us!

This oak looked like it had quite a story to tell! We enjoyed our exploration and contemplation … until we got hungry.

Then we headed for lunch in Placerville and from there up to High Hill Ranch in Apple Hill. It’s a pretty big farm, with lots of room for the kids to run about. (I wish their pony rides weren’t $6 a ride, though! We opted to skip them.)

We shopped for yummy apples and came home with a big bag full of Fujis, Jona Golds, Galas, and Golden Delicious.

I don’t remember ever seeing these Arkansas Black apples before. They were so beautiful!

There is a fish pond at High Hill Ranch; you can pay to fish for trout, which you can clearly see in the water. Poor Lucas! His parents are too cheap. The kids loved sitting on this water cannon that spilled water into the pond.

We also bought caramel apples for the boys to eat—Asher’s first. He never made it to the apple, I’m afraid. Mama and Daddy ate apple pie. Mmm…

Lucas took the opportunity to somersault and roll down the grassy hillside. Monday is a great day to go—no big crowds!

Then we drove a bit more around Apple Hill, looking at the farms and orchards full of fruit and nut trees. We stopped at Bill’s Apples and Felice’s Dolls, where they have a spectacular flower garden. (They claim 3000 chrysanthemums!) It was a beautiful final stop, for some of us were getting moody. Perhaps that caramel apple sugar rush wore off?

Happy half birthday, my sweet son. I am so pleased we had this gorgeous Family Day all together.

Breaking the rules here to explain that my son was being contemplative in the cemetery, not mourning a loved one. He was having a quiet moment with his own thoughts.

Inspired by SouleMama {this moment} – A Friday ritual. A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

Some random thoughts …

Is it wrong to have a “pet” black widow spider? I have one in my backyard and I’ve not told the children about it, nor do I want it killed. It has a secret lair, which seems to me to be kind of miraculous and good, since it’s outside the normal traffic patterns of our lives. What I really want is a macro picture of its pretty red hourglass. And a long black dress with the same design to match.

My Asher has caught a cold and is staying home today, not so much because he is slowed by it, but because he is most likely contagious right now—I mean, insofar as I can guess such a thing. I’m wondering what to do about swim this afternoon. He is stubborn and demanding.

I’m trying to figure out a new project I have to do by September. It’s the reorganization and recreation of some curriculum for the instructors’ resources that go with a textbook. Puzzling … puzzling …

Last night my father in law and Mimi came over for dinner to celebrate two overdue birthdays and an overdue Father’s Day. Ian grilled the best chicken breasts I’ve ever had—moist, perfectly cooked, and flavorful—and Mimi brought a gorgeous carrot cake, in which the special ingredient was crushed pineapple. Divine.

I’m sending all my love to two friends today. They need it.

I think perhaps we’re still tired from the late night on the 4th, or at least, that may be Lucas’s case. He’s dragging. We’re all feeling a trifle crabby, even though everything is perfectly … normal. There is an uncomfortable degree of bickering between my children. Summer days are full and hot and long. My brain is split in two thanks to my two jobs; and I’m feeling like I’m not doing very well at either of them.

Happy Independence Day!

Because photo posts please me, here are some scenes of summertime. Hope your summer is shaping up beautifully!

Dandelion tossed into the creek, where it spirals around and around

Mountain wildflowers

Lush meadows filled with every imaginable shade of green

Sand and rescued ladybugs

Cabin’s looking pretty spiffy these days

My lilies just keep blooming like mad; they put forth such effort!

Lots of swimming pool time with Miss Brittany

Pink and green hydrangea buds

California sycamore shade and hot summer skies

I

It starts with a bed-a-bye snuggle, sometime before the morning music …

somehow, there we all are.

Four abed, snuggled under, breathing.

Daddy’s the bravest. He rises before the rest.

Then mama feels guilty, smells coffee brewing, and slowly emerges from the nest.

Big boy bounces up, right up!

Mama and big boy go to his room to pull out clothes for today’s many adventures.

“But I’m not ready!” he complains.

(Mama doesn’t blame him. She’s not ready either.)

So they sit together on the green carpet. Perhaps a cuddle?

Arms enfold ten wiggly elbows, ten knocking knees.

“Either this lap used to be bigger, or you used to be smaller.”

(Giggle)

And there she is, just an arm’s length away,

Emily Mouse, doing her “evening” chores, having a before-bed drink

of water from the upside-down blue bottle.

Gently, Mama says, “Maybe Emily misses you,” thinking, it has been a good long while

since you held your mousie friend.

OK. He reaches for her, cups her gently in two astonishingly large hands

lined and crackled with dirt,

graced with broken nails

and calluses—

curious hands

that move a bit too fast.

White mouse whiskers, sniffing, twitching.

“Wow,” mama says. “We have had Emily for a whole year.”

“Yep.” White mouse moves over dingy T-shirt,

is corralled back into workaday hands.

To herself, Gently now … careful …

“How long do mice live?” Mama wonders cautiously.

“Two years, or a little more.”

Hmmm …

Emily’s fur is stroked, ears scratched by one nubby index finger.

Even. More. Gently …

“What do you think that means?”

…

Blue eyes flash, then seek refuge in the green carpet.

She will die someday. Sometime.

“Maybe soon.”

“Let’s give her lots of love until then, OK?”

“Yeah, Mom.”

“And lots of petting. And kitchen scraps!”

“Yeah! I wonder if we gave her a whole sweet pepper, would she eat a hole and crawl inside it?”

“I don’t know. Let’s give her one and see.”

Eggs are ready. “Time for breakfast,” says the Daddy.

Littlest boy sleeps on …

…

II

Lucas and Grandma leave.

Existential dilemma faced and dressing for a rainy school day accomplished!

Phew!

Mama sips coffee

until …

“MAMA!”

Sleepy one emerges into a quiet house.

“My jammies are wet. I want a kiwi.”

Never before. “A kiwi? Really?”

“Yes.”

Well, then. Diaper change and then Mama goes looking …

Hallelujah! A kiwi. One.

“I have to peel the fuzzy brown skin off.”

“And then I eat it up.”

It vanishes before Mama’s eyes. Three gulps tops.

Then the cold eggs follow.

Mama sits by his side.

“I’m ready for some holding now,” he says with certain faith, and climbs over.

A small egg fills her lap.

“I’m a baby bird in my egg.”

Ah. “And I’m the nest?”

“Yes. And the Mama Bird.”

Pecking. Peck. Peck.

“I’m pecking!

“I’m hatching! Hatch!”

“Hello, Baby Bird! Welcome.”

“You’re my Mama Bird?!”

“Mmmm-hmm …”

“I hatch again!”

(Repeat)

“Are you ready to fly, baby bird?”

“Yes!”

“Let’s put on your red rain feathers.”

“Hurry, Mama Bird! Let’s fly!”

All the way to preschool.