“Can I wear my snow gear to school today? It’s wet outside.”

“Yes.”

~~~
“Let’s walk, Mama!”

“In the rain?”

“Yeah! I have my boots. It’s fun!”

“Yes, it is. Let’s go.”

~~~

Do you ever have days when it seems like all that comes out of your mouth is no? I do. Do you ever find that all those noes, which are of course reasonable, justifiable, appropriate to the present circumstances, etc., seem to pile on top of each other until you and your children are smothered in them? I do.

I find that some days the noes are so very heavy, and they accumulate in great drifts of disappointment and anger. They’re depressing. They’re aggravating. They cause trouble.

In an avalanche of noes, tempers flare. We bash into one another emotionally. My stress levels rise. The children bicker more.

Even when every no placed on the pile is the well-meaning kind, sooner or later, the mountain looms, casting shadows and sucking the fun out of the day.

I’m trying to be mindful of this. I’m trying to turn my noes into yeses. Yesterday was a Yes Day. I just resolved to say yes as often as possible.

~~~

“When we get home, can I go play outside? I want to pick some rosemary to make my rosemary tea.”

“Yes.”

“Can I put some lemon in it?”

“Sure, honey.”

~~~

“Can we have popcorn with Parmesan cheese for snack?”

“Yes.”

~~~

“Can I light my special birthday candle that my teacher made for me?”

“Your May Pole candle? In December? Um … yes.”

~~~

“Mama! You come and play with me in the playroom?”

“Yes, OK.”

~~~

“Can we have a fire in the fireplace?”

“Yes. That sounds nice.”

~~~

“Can we eat a bit of chocolate?”

“A little, yes.”

~~~

“Mama! You come and be the tickle love monster and you chase us!”

“Yes! Here I come!”

~~~

“Mama, will you please snuggle me?”

“Oh, yes!”

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.

We have a traditional celebration called Pyanepsia, which is adapted from an ancient Greek festival. It is one of my favorite holidays of the year because it brings my darlings together for an evening of community, food, and thanksgiving. It’s a festival in honor of the changing of the seasons, from the outer to the inner, from the light into the darkness.

We use heaps of bay laurel.

We feast on fine foods, bean stews, and wine.

We make candles.

This year, we dipped autumn leaves in beeswax to preserve them. Why not, when we were making candles anyway?

We make a giant communal eirisione, hung with wool and trinkets, evidence of our many blessings, in the hopes we will continue to be so blessed. Many thanks to our gracious hosts. xoxo

We have owned this treasure of a book by Jonathan London for a number of years. It is more than a Thanksgiving book and I realize we should read it more often because it’s not just a seasonal story, although the setting is clearly autunn. The paintings are by Gregory Manchess, who is, according to the book jacket, a self-taught artist. (Wow!)

A father and son take a walk in the woods. The father says “thank you” to all the wonders he encounters along the way, leading his son by example. There is no plot; just a nature walk.

“Thank you, Mother Earth. Thank you, Father Sky. Thank you for this day.”

“Like his Indian friends—singers and storytellers—Dad believes that the things of nature are a gift. And that in return, we must give something back. We must give thanks.”

I like the message of this book, which dovetails so beautifully with Waldorf education’s attitude of reverence: That nature is valuable even in its smallest expression, such as the “tiny beings with six or eight legs, weaving their tiny stories close to the earth.” That we are privileged to witness and walk among the plants and creatures of our earth. That we should be grateful for all the beauty and opportunity nature provides. And that gratitude is a practice—something that we work at and nourish within us. It makes you feel good.

I couldn’t be prouder of Lucas today. He was so mature, so considerate, and so well-behaved today at Nana’s funeral. He combed his hair and dressed up and everything. He had told us that he wanted to say a few words at the service. I was surprised when he actually stood to speak, as the room was packed. He was brave and sincere. Many people told us and him how much they appreciated what he said today. My heart was bursting. He was my bright light in an otherwise sad and dismal day.

Many thanks to our friends, K and J, for lending us some of J’s dress clothes for today.

Last weekend we had a marvelous Adventure Day! Featuring … grandparents and SCIENCE! We met up with Ian’s dad, Glen, and his girlfriend, Miriam, and we all drove to San Francisco to visit the Exploratorium and nearby SF sights. If you ever get the chance to go to the Exploratorium, seize it.

“So why don’t all exhibits have scientific explanations?
The Exporatorium is about discovering things for yourself. We want to spark your curiosity not just give you facts. That’s why you won’t find explanations at every exhibit. Facts and explanations are important, and you will find them here. But finding things out by experimenting, by playing around, is what science is all about.

So mess about. Explore your hunches. Follow your curiosity. See what happens.”

Today is a very full day. We are attending Lucas’s third-grade Eurythmy performance of The Firebird this afternoon. We are also attending a Martinmas potluck and lantern walk with Asher’s preschool this evening. Both of these events are happy and exciting. Both are dampened by my grief over Nana’s death yesterday.

Part of me would like for everything to feel normal. A part of me thinks it’s crazy to be normal—working on freelance projects, worrying about deadlines, arranging babysitting, and attending school functions—at a time like this. But, of course, life goes on.

And isn’t that a miracle?

In the midst of a busy and rich life, we pause to grieve. In the midst of a sad time, we snatch moments of elation and joy, pride and comfort to buoy us up. There is a symmetry there, a balance.

Both darkness and light.

I don’t know what to think or feel, but lighting a candle seemed right.

Farewell, Nana. I love you.

It hardly feels much like November, with so many recent days over 70 degrees!

Wild grape leaves in the woods near the Sacramento Waldorf School

Swan at the Palace of Fine Arts Theater in San Francisco

Lucas with the golden cherry leaves in our yard

Neighborhood tree in the morning

The blackest liquidambar leaves I’ve ever seen. The boys and I found these at Fair Oaks Park.

A fallen tree star (also liquidambar) in Asher’s hand

Scarlet dogwood berries; little black and gray birds are eating them up

A neighbor’s lawn

The crepe myrtle that hangs into my backyard.

My boys pretty much lost interest in Halloween candy immediately. They had loads of it and we kept it around for five days. They asked for one piece of candy in five days. Lucas even asked if he could give all of his candy away to the Halloween Fairy.

We let Lucas and Asher save out a few choice pieces of candy for occasional special treats. Then we put all the rest of the candy in a big bowl and left it outside. We called into the night to the Halloween Fairy and told her that we had lots of candy for her to feed to her babies (who need sugar to live, like Hummingbirds, don’t ya know). We called and called, and then went to bed feeling certain that she had heard us.

In the morning, we found she had taken all the candy we had left out, and in return she left Lucas and Asher some Legos and notebooks, and these friendly little monsters.

I’m looking into this program, The Halloween Candy Buy Back. We may have missed the opportunity, since it’s already a week after Halloween, but it sounds like a great program. Local dentists buy back (or accept) Halloween candy donations from kids, and Operation Gratitude sends it in care packages to U.S. soldiers serving overseas.