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.

It’s a domestic arts day. The rye bread dough is rising. Next I’m moving on to the cookies. My friend G gave me persimmons this week and they are beautifully ripe and squishy. So I’m making persimmon cookies to share with friends this evening. I get to spend some time with some of my favorite women in the world tonight to mark a momentous occasion, make some magic, and have a feast together. My heart is full today of memories of wild nights in the woods and adventure, and also of quiet moments in the kitchen with a beautiful mentor. I’ve lit my baking candle and it’s glowing near the dough to warm and encourage the yeastie-beasties to make their happy bubbles, just like she taught me to do.

My boys are out right now, buying supplies for the elving they are doing. They have big, manly plans for working in the garage and I’m told I must keep to myself today, lest I ruin my surprise. This feels just right to me today. My heart is full of my women near and far, and I cannot wait to be surrounded by them tonight. It’s been too long.

It’s Santa Lucia Day today. My stjärngossar (star boys) helped me make Lussekatter (Santa Lucia buns) last night.

It worked well to have them help mix the dough, then later form the buns before bedtime.

Aren’t they pretty? I should have been more liberal with the egg yolk wash over the top and I should have had my oven a little cooler. I don’t do this kind of baking very often because if I did I would EAT all the buns. This year we used the “traditional Lucia buns” recipe that our kids’ Waldorf school provided. It worked beautifully. I used a bit of saffron, which may have been too old to color the dough much, and some cardamom as well for some kick. I didn’t have raisins on hand so we used dried currants instead.

2 packages active dry yeast
1/2 c warm water (about 110 degrees F)
1 1/2 c warm milk
1 c sugar
3/4 c butter, softened and cut into pieces
1 egg
3/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon saffron (or use 1 1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom and 1 teaspoon grated orange peel)
about 7 1/2 c all-purpose flour
about 1/2 c raisins (or currants)
2 egg yolks mixed with 1 1/2 tablespoons of water

In a large bowl combine yeast and water; let stand 5 minutes. Warm the milk and add the saffron to it. Blend in the milk, saffron, sugar, butter, egg, and salt. Stir in about 6 1/2 cups of flour to form a stiff dough. Turn dough onto a lightly floured surface and knead until smooth and elastic. Add flour as needed. Place dough into greased bowl and then turn over. Allow to rise in a warm place 1 hour, until doubled in size. Punch dough down, knead lightly again. Pinch off balls of dough about 1 1/2 inches in diameter and roll into a rope about 10 inches long. Curl ropes into S-shapes or into double S-shapes to make a curved cross. Put raisins into the centers of the curls. Cover and let rise about 1/2 hour, until almost double. Brush well with yolk and water mixture. Bake at 400 degrees for 10 minutes. Check often.

I also made this beautiful braided loaf. I don’t know if I have ever made anything like this before and I am so pleased with how it turned out. Next time I think I’ll turn down the oven just a tad and bake only about 22 minutes.

This morning, for Santa Lucia, I warmed the braided bread loaf and put candles in it. I drizzled a bit of powdered sugar glaze over the top and it was yummy! The kids took some Lussekatter buns to school for their teachers. And I had my dad over this morning for coffee and some bread. Then I indulged in watching several YouTube videos of Lucia festivals in Sweden. I love the music.

The night goes with heavy steps
around farm and cottage;
round the earth the sun has forsaken,
the shadows are brooding.
There in our darkened house,
stands with lighted candles
Saint Lucia, Saint Lucia.

The night passes, large and mute
now one hears wings
in every silent room
whispers as if from wings.
See, on our threshold stands
white-clad with candles in her hair
Saint Lucia, Saint Lucia.

The darkness shall soon depart
from the earth’s valleys
then she speaks
a wonderful word to us.
The day shall be born anew
Rising from the rosy sky.
Saint Lucia, Saint Lucia.

Carl Larsson, “Lucia Morning”

I admit I love these lesser known (at least to us) holidays. Our family can celebrate them or not, as we like and as our lives and time permit. We can make them what we wish because there aren’t loads of people whose needs have to be considered, nor are there decades of family tradition to hold to or break, with all the accompanying risk that goes with breaking it. We don’t hurt anyone’s feelings by doing our own thing because no one in our extended families celebrates holidays like Saint Nicholas Day or Santa Lucia Day or Candlemas or Saint Patrick’s Day. With just a little effort I can make otherwise ordinary days special for my children, just by choosing to celebrate. And these holidays don’t require a month or more to get ready, the way that Christmas does. So these festivals will be a part of our family until they no longer serve us and enrich our lives in this way. For now, we’re are enjoying them very much.

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.

Ian

I am grateful for …

your humor

your smile

your ceaseless, devoted love

your boundless curiosity and need to know

your intelligence and courage

the way you hold me at night and I melt into you

how I can always find safety in your arms

your tireless caretaking and delicious cooking

the way you will play Legos for hours, create movies and games, build with, cook with, read to

and otherwise spend time with our children

they soak up every moment with you

the way you do the things I don’t want to do because you want to spare me

the way shield me from news or stories that will hurt me

our sweet children,

with all their random noises and sticky fingers and smelly feet

how they are intense and playful

learn every moment,

and trust that their world is safe and beautiful

because it is

they are the gifts we gave to and share with each other

and they crack open my heart to make it bigger every day

our health

and healthy relationships

our community of creative darlings

and loving family

how we are nestled in among all these loving people

who share with us their stories and wisdom and passions

our beautiful, wacky home

with its hundreds of colors and clutter of goofy, artistic treasures

its happy memeories

its fullness and warmth

its laughter and chaos and rhythms

how it always has enough

the way we are always filling it up with our friends

the garden, which is our labor of love

that pleases me with each blossom and every leaf

and reminds me to celebrate small things

These things, and so many more, are my blessings and I’m grateful for all that we are and all that we have built together—for so many of my blessings circle back to you, my love.

Our garden in October is a study in paradox. We have flowers, fruits, and seeds all at once.

We have a great mass of blooming cosmos that show no signs of slowing. There are plenty of buds ready to open into blooms.

We have this alien flower, which I didn’t plant.

I’m still harvesting tomatoes, though I confess the little orange Sungolds often don’t make it all the way into the house. They taste like candy.

Although it was a mild summer for us, this Japanese maple still shows signs of sunburn. At the same time, it has new leaves.

This areas is underneath some rose bushes. I grew these marigolds and nasturtiums from seeds, so that’s pretty awesome.

My zinnias are blooming like mad and also fading. The faded blossoms made a wonderful addition to our autumn equinox wreath last month. I don’t have much “fall color” to show, as most of our trees haven’t yet begun to change. A few sycamore leaves are falling. A single branch on our liquidambar (sweet gum) tree is covered in gold stars. The rest of the leaves area all still green.

The valiant calendula is going to seed. I need to get out there with a bag and gather some up for next year. There are billions of morning glory seeds available for collection, too.

All of the young hens are now laying. We have been getting between 6 and 9 eggs a day. We fear that Midnight (not pictured) is egg-bound. We have tried the remedies suggested by various Internet sources to no avail. We fear she may be on her way out, as a chicken cannot live in this condition for long, which is sad because she is Ian’s favorite hen.

We are still gathering basil and pinching off flowers. I need to harvest all of it for pesto before a frost comes, but it doesn’t seem like that will be anytime soon. Today’s high temperature is 84 degrees and tomorrow’s is expected to be 81.

Finally, here is our solitary pumpkin. We had such great luck growing orange and white pumpkins last year—nine in all. This year we have only one. I’ve explained to this vine repeatedly this summer and fall that one pumpkin just will not do. We have two children, after all! Alas, it didn’t listen to me.

My Photinia Rainbow photo is featured today on Maureen Cracknell Handmade. Please pop on over to Maureen’s site and see her exquisite handwork, sewing, and quilting. I’m excited to make her acquaintance and honored that she finds my photo inspiring! I’ll be watching her creative endeavors going forward.

Maureen’s blog is Maureen Cracknell Handmade and can be found at http://maureencracknellhandmade.blogspot.com/.

That gorgeous fabric bundle is for sale by PinkCastleFabrics here: The fabric bundle is for sale here: http://www.etsy.com/listing/79584457/sale-high-traffic-red-yellow-and-green-9

Last week I picked a bouquet of late summer flowers from my garden. I have cosmos grown from seed that are now taller than me. My cannas are nearing the end of their bloom, and some are making seeds. These last surprisingly long in a vase. I clipped a “Mother of Pearl” rose from one of this year’s new rosebushes and my favorite, “Rio Samba” is in its third bloom of the summer.

Some mint filled out the bouquet with fragrant green and little flower spikes.

Mostly my bouquet featured some terrific coral zinnias, also grown from seed. There’s only one plant, but it’s huge and thriving. I love them!

Imagine our surprise when three days later we found this fellow on a zinnia! The flowers in the vase were beginning to tire and droop and dry. And this caterpillar was still alive and on them, munching away.

He explored and ate while we grabbed our “butterfly garden” from the garage, picked fresh zinnias and place them in a small vase of water, and enclosed them and the caterpillar in the mesh enclosure. We wondered what the caterpillar might like to eat and brought in various leaves for him.

Then, we lost him. That is, try as we might, we couldn’t see him anywhere in the enclosure. I worried that he hadn’t had appropriate food and had died and shriveled up invisibly.

Then, one day, we found him again! He looked a little darker in color.

Then, he disappeared once more. Uh oh!

Today, Daddy found a little brown chrysalis tucked into a fold at the bottom of the mesh and fabric enclosure. We are now eagerly waiting to see what will happen next. Will a butterfly emerge? We hope so!

I had my “final” painting class on August 23. We worked on a still life of watermelon on a table draped with black velvet fabric. I tell you, painting black velvet was really tricky for me. Is it green-black? Purple-black? Mixing blacks from transparent ultramarine blue, alizarin crimson, and thalo green was quite remarkable. I painted a small 8- by 10-inch canvas that night.

A few days later, while the paints on my palette were still wet, I finished it at home. I elected to work on that black velvet some more—it was looking wimpy—and to dull the green in the rind of one section of melon a bit more. Here’s a photo of the finished, still-wet painting. Such a simple, one-object subject, and yet it presented many challenges. It felt perfectly marvelous to use all those reds!

Above, I said “‘final’ class.” I have to enroll in another session because I’m not done with this yet. I’ve taken a haitus of a couple of weeks now and I and really miss it. I’m hoping to return to class next Tuesday.

To all of my darling friends who made it financially possible and shoved me into this dream of mine (because I wouldn’t go there otherwise), thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I’ll never forget this birthday present.