May and June are my happy garden months. There’s enough water and temps aren’t yet crazy hot—usually. This year, I’m enjoying some reseeded plants that have popped up all on their own. Since I enjoy their parent plants, these babies are making me happy.

Reseeded calendula is popping up all over this flower bed. I also have a bunch of baby dusty millers, too.

Summer is time for the hydrangeas to shine. I have six of these now and each is a different color.

I recently planted two delphinium plants. I’m reading that they can be somewhat fussy, but their blooms are spectacular, so I thought I’d try them. The star jasmine is blooming now and it makes the whole backyard smell sweet and wonderful.

I created these wish flags for a craft project and article I wrote for Little Acorn Learning’s June Enrichment Guide. I love them so much that I have made many, many more. I even opened it up to friends and asked if anyone had a wish they wanted me to add to my wishing tree. I’ve now got everything from general prayers for love, happiness, and abundance to specific wishes for healthy bedrest/birth and specific fall classes for friends. The flags are fabric rectangles with wished written on them. For the last few flags, I need to drag out the big ladder because I can’t reach the higher branches and the lower ones are pretty full!

This summer we are targeting for improvement this area near our patio. We have in years past planted our vegetable garden here with some success. But the trouble with that is that it’s an unattractive area for a good part of the year. So we’re putting in perennials with some spots of annuals for punch. The big area of pink poppies is one plant grown from seed—one of only two poppy seeds that took last year. But, I love it and it’s a showstopper. I’ve put in a couple of roses for some height, a golden coreopsis and an amazing peachy verbena (below). Still to go in are two types of salvia, some nemesia, a muticolored wallflower, and a rock rose. This should help make this part of the yard considerably prettier.

A Flickr friend thinks this bird is a female American Goldfinch. She is perching on a stalk of chard (left) that has bolted. This crazy plant has lived in my yard for two years now. We eat bits off it and leave the rest. As a result, I have tons of baby chards growing everywhere. I plan to eat those, too. It may be that the Goldfinch has similar designs on the chard.

Awesome, isn’t it? I’ve had purple and scarlet verbena before, but never this color. Charming.

I have all sorts of flower seeds in the ground, with some nice little seedlings coming up. Nasturtiums, morning glories, cosmos, and other goodies. In the veggie garden we have tomato plants growing, cantaloupe, beans, corn, pumpkins, butternut squash, basil, one zucchini, and one eggplant. (Most of this is Lucas’s garden. I only planted the stuff he’s not interested in eating.) My fingers are crossed!

Here are a few more ideas of how to celebrate the summer solstice. Please feel free to check out the first installment here. I guess perhaps it was the very cold, very wet spring we had this year; somehow this year I’m extra motivated to bask in the sunshine. I’m so looking forward to the summer solstice. It feels right to go big this year.

Make a Sun Mask

The mask you see above is one that Lucas made in summer camp a couple of years ago. It’s very simple—just doubled paper plates painted with copper and gold metalic paints and decorated with a few sequins. It’s iconic and it speaks to me, so it’s still on display in my home office. Your sun mask could be more elaborate, if you like, but a project like this could be enjoyed by even the smallest members of your family and for little investment in materials.

Make a Sunshine Banner

For me, Father’s Day and the summer solstice are two sides of the same coin. (That’s not the case for everyone; in China and Japan, the summer solstice is when the divine feminine forces are celebrated.) I guess I always think of Mother Earth and Father Sun (or Father Sky). Anyway, here is a project that Lucas made a number of years ago with his summer camp teachers. The kids and I are going to do this again for the solstice this year, only this time, we’ll have both Lucas’s and Asher’s handprints to make our sunshine. We’ll only need some fabric, twine or ribbon, a twig or dowel, and some washable tempera paint. And soap!

Crochet Sun Medallion Necklaces

I wish I was good enough at crochet to write a proper tutorial for this, but I fear I’d get the vocabulary wrong. I’m just a beginner, you see. But I managed to work out how to create a flat circle that looks sunshiny. I think I used single and double crochet stitches and just felt my way along, endeavoring to keep the sun round. When it was approximately 2 inches in diameter, I started chaining a chain. The acrylic yarn is leftover from another project, and it’s stretchy enough to just pull over the head to make a necklace. I’ve made two of these for my boys, and promised two more to some friends. This worked up in about 30 minutes, so someone who actually knows what they’re doing with a crochet hook could probably quickly pound out these sun medallion necklaces. Wear them at your solstice party!

Find more of my solstice ideas (and tons more) in Little Acorn Learning’s June Enrichment Guide. Click the button to go there.

It’s the end of the school year. There are four more days of school left and then it’s twelve weeks of summer vacation for Lucas. Normally at this time of year I’d be panicking, wondering what the hell we are going to do during twelve weeks “off.”

OK, the truth is, part of my brain IS doing exactly that because I am both full-time mommy and full-time professional editor. Try as I might, I have yet to figure out how to be fully effective at doing two vastly different jobs at once.

Twelve weeks. Somehow the camp options are fewer this summer, and I just know that there are going to be yawning weeks of hot, drawn-out days. You’ve heard me sing this song before. That’s not why I’m writing now.

Just now. This is why I’m writing. This exact moment I’m so awestruck by my child. My 9-year-old has me feeling just boggled, and not for any one thing, but for all of him.

Today he brought home some of his third-grade schoolwork. Not reams of mimeographed math problem practice sheets, but his own watercolor paintings. His crocheted potholder. His hand-carded, handspun and plied yarn.

While Ian was preparing dinner, Lucas was out in the backyard, shooting homemade arrows at targets with his most recent handmade bow.

During dinner, Lucas told us the story of Moses and the Hebrew people wandering the in the desert. This was a treat for us because he doesn’t always want to talk about what’s going on at school. I marveled at how parts of the story were so well-crafted, as if he had absorbed whole phrases of the narrative word for word because the pictures in his mind responded to them. He also told us he got to shovel manure today—and that he’s aware he’ll be doing a lot of that sort of thing next year because the fourth grade does the animal chores on the school farm. We discussed how interesting the Norse myths will be next year.

After dinner tonight, he played for us a piano sonatina. It has three movements and is about six pages of music, with plenty of repeats and codas. His sonatina is not perfect. Some sections are played faster than others. There are rough patches that we hope he will iron out through practice before his next piano recital in a couple of weeks. But, damn! My kid just made music out of nothing but his knowledge and skill and feeling.

Who is this capable being standing before me?

I cannot promise to be the perfect, carefree mom all summer. I will not promise to keep him entertained through the dog days. All I can promise is to try to meet him where he is now, which is most certainly not where he was a year or a month ago. Now is new, and brave and capable and lovely.

Yes, I know it’s June 1 today but this post is full of May flowers that I’ve collected over the last few weeks. What’s crazy is that at this very moment, it’s hailing and pouring rain. This is not the sort of weather that summer roses are accustomed to around here. Yet perhaps I can conjure summer with these beauties. Above are “popcorn” roses at Mom and Dad’s house.

Bearded iris

Lilac dipping low over the swimming pool

Mom’s perfect calla lily

“Daybreak” rose

Zany gazania

Coastal California poppies and other wildflowers

Sunny ice plant

“The Earth laughs in flowers.”  —Ralph Waldo Emerson

Meet my two roosters, Sunshine and Chestnut.

I’ve known Chestnut (an Ameraucana) was male for a long time. I never really doubted because he acts roosterish. He now has longish, pointed tail feathers and a golden mane of neck feathers that he puffs out when he’s showing you how bad he is. I’m seeing some lovely green irridescence in some of his feathers, too. He has a striking appearance, though I don’t know if I’d call him handsome. Perhaps he is still an awkward youngster? He’s … kind of scruffy.

I was pretty sure Sunshine was a boy early on, too, because he started developing a big red wattle and comb early on and the other Buff Prpington chick, Buttercup, did not. You can see them both in the photo below. They look pretty different, don’t they? And yet, I hoped he was a she. But, it’s official as of yesterday: Sushine is definitely a cockerel. I heard and saw him crowing in a kind of teenage-trying-this-cock-a-doodle-dooing-thing-on-for-size way.

So, out of ten chicks we have raised since February 17, we have two roosters. Not great odds, if you ask me. Honestly, we didn’t want roosters at all. And I’m not at all sure what we’ll do with them. My boys say that killing and eating them is out of the question, even though that’s probably Ian’s preference. There is a slight chance that the two will get along even as adults; it does occasionally happen. But more likely, they will begin to compete for the affections of the hens.

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.

Lucas’s first-ever sleepover birthday party started with an epic balloon fight.

Six 9-year-olds and a determined-to-keep-up 4-year-old is a what you might call a cacophany of boys. The dozen balloons lasted almost 8 minutes.

The theme— “No theme, Mom! Just a sleepover.” The cake— “No cake, Mom! I want a homemade apple pie.”

There were antics of all sorts. There was talk of how girls trying to kiss you is the grossest thing ever. There was plenty of belching words. There were stick fights and spy-on-the-parents games. After they inhaled the watermelon, there was a rind fight.

There were two episodes of “Mythbusters,” at the special request of the birthday boy, with extra explosions.

Lucas received marvelous gifts, like a mosaic stepping stone kit, a solar cooker, a Hex Bug, paintbrushes, LEGO, and more.

He greatly enjoyed being the star of the show for a full evening, night, and morning. The boys stayed awake talking and laughing until about midnight, before they finally all fell asleep.

After the guests left on May 1, we spent some time with just the four of us. We gave Lucas our gifts, such as a solar kit, books, a basketball, wool roving and needle-felting tools, extreme dot-to-dot and puzzle books, North American animal fact cards—just the sort of things a 9-year-old needs.

But best of all—most desired of all possible birthday gifts—was this:

And thus he spent much of the day whittling. We were all a bit worn out from the festivities of the night before and so we elected not to attend the May Day festival at Lucas’s Waldorf school. (The third grade had no part to play in the festival this year, and so we left the choice up to Lucas. He wanted to whittle.)

Later that evening, we went to Grandma’s and Papa’s house for dinner. We enjoyed tacos and salad and birthday brownies for dessert. The boys wanted to go swimming—on May Day! And although it was not exactly warm, well—it was his birthday. May Day is traditionally the “first day of summer.”

The next day, which was a day off from school, Lucas got to visit with his other grandmother and his auntie. He came home with a set of woodcarving tools and more LEGO. Bliss!

It’s two weeks later now, and I can tell Lucas is supremely happy to be 9, and is really enjoying all his gifts. He has finally (and briefly) caught up to the age of his classmates, some of whom are soon to turn 10.

We all love to dance, but somehow it was our younger son who galvanized this passion into a family ritual. We didn’t set out to make it a regular part of our family life, but before long it was. We hold After-Dinner Discos—dance parties for four that let us all cut loose for a while and get the dishes done. They are one of my favorite family activities.

We finish dinner around 7 p.m. on most nights. My boys go to bed at 8 and they usually shower before bed. Most of the time, we have a lovely 10- or 15-minute window after dinner and we crank up the music and boogie. When the daylight stretches longer into the evening, I confess we party even more, and our dancing spills out into the backyard under the sky.

What kind of music, you ask? Truly, it’s not lyres and pentatonic flutes. The music we play depends on a lot of things: What mood are we in? Is it a night near a holiday? Have we been talking about anything over dinner that brings to mind a song, a style, or a period of history?

Around St. Patrick’s Day, we all kick up our heels to the Pogues, Black 47, and the Chieftains. During Christmas time, we enjoy the Pandora online radio station called “Christmas Lounge.” At Diwali, we might put on some Bollywood film music. We dance to Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra and Aretha Franklin. We shake our booties to Lady Gaga, Cher, and Pink. My older son loves the White Stripes. The little guy loves the Beatles, Bob Marley, and Shakira. I’m fond of Michael Franti and OK Go, and Sting’s music has always been close my heart. My husband is a true musical aficionado, and he always has a fine suggestion for us. Perhaps it feels like ’80s night, or maybe a little big band music fits the bill. We sometimes play a CD called “AM Radio Hits of the ’70s.” Maybe it’s time for some Goa trance or techno. Did you know you could party to a fabulous, techno remix of an autotuned Carl Sagan lecture called “A Glorious Dawn” by Symphony of Science?

My younger son, who is now 4, feels music in his very bones. He’s really got moves, and he’s serious about it, too. He works on a new dance move for a while until he gets it to where it feels just right, to where it’s a facile part of his physical repertoire. Then he works on the next thing. Sometimes I see him mimicking one of us, working out how to make his body do the same thing. There’s no instruction of any kind, and it’s not mechanical or rigid—it’s just a natural learning about his body in space, how it feels to move through the air or place his feet just so. You should see his rock star power slide on his knees.

And he is driven to dancing to just about anything. Beethoven and Mozart work just as well for him as Katy Perry. When the spirit moves him, there’s no standing on the sidelines allowed: “Dance! Mama, Dance!” If I let a little too much of my attention stray to cleaning up our dinner mess, I hear about it. “Mama! You’ve gotta dance with me!” And heaven forbid I’m feeling under the weather. “Mama, I know what will make you better. Let’s dance!”

My older son’s dancing has changed over the years. The carefree quality of his young childhood is moving away gradually. Now, at 9 years old, he sometimes performs Eurhythmy he has learned in school, or attempts some fancy footwork, like a made-up jig or tap routine. He likes to head-bang to electric guitars (which pleases Daddy to no end), and I’ve caught my son playing the air guitar more than a few times. More often than not, these days, my older son’s dancing is morphing into a kind of acrobatic martial art of his own invention, with high kicks and blocking stances. He spins, punches, and dodges imaginary assailants in time to the music.

Before I had children, I used to imagine I’d one day be one of those moms who drives her daughters to frequent ballet lessons. I don’t do that (although if my sons asked, I would). Having boys doesn’t mean I can’t share the gift of music and dance with them, no matter the cultural forces that suggest that boys don’t dance. What better way is there to bring our family together after our long days than to crank up the tunes, revel in our bodies’ abilities, and express ourselves through dance? To get our hearts pumping and put smiles on our faces? What better way is there to have fun and celebrate life?

… make me happy.

Happy Mother’s Day to all you talented, sexy, competent, clever, thoughtful, giving, resourceful, beautiful mamas. You are both the backbone and the safety net of the whole world. Your work is vital. We see you and we thank you.