This is a small collection of precious summer moments that I want to remember. It was a summer full of color, creativity, and togetherness. We got our fill of outdoor adventures and indoor play, too. We tested, challenged ourselves, and grew in so many ways.

From the bottom of my heart, I hope your summertime was full of bliss and daydreams, excitement and rest.

Today one of our summer adventures is featured on the Beneath the Rowan Tree blog, which is super fun! Pop over there to see!

The boys and I made another batch of jam last week, which was Week 11 of summer vacation. You see, we mamas must be creative to survive summertime. We must also do our best to create and squeeze sweet moments out of these long, warm days at home.

I wish I could say we plucked all of these strawberries from our garden, but we don’t grow enough berries to make that possible. I also wish I could say they were organic berries, but alas, they weren’t. They were the next best thing: on sale!

What is absolutely wonderful, however, is that my kiddos and I worked together on this project. Lucas and Asher were great about chopping all the strawberries. (Getting to use real knives is a thrill for them.) Their cooperation and good natures made this such a fun activity. I just love how capable and helpful they are these days! They got to decide on the sweetener for our low-sugar jam—they picked honey!

The chickens benefited, too.

We call this Mama and Sons’ Strawberry Honey Love Jam. Good name, no?

I got to spend some much needed time with my brother last weekend. He took me out to Denio’s Farmers Market and Auction, where he goes fairly often. I haven’t been since I was a kid. This place is great! We wandered through lots of sellers’ stalls, poking about. I bought two notebooks for my kids for a buck and a piece of garden art. Jonathan bought a colander and gloves to wear while pouring concrete. I saw 5 gallon fruit trees there for $49. I’ve made a mental note of that for later!

We enjoyed a beer and we went through the fruit and veg market. I bought local honey and pickled garlic. I didn’t see anything fresh marked organic, but the prices were terrific and I was buying directly from the farmers, which feels pretty great.

Everything was so lovely, all set out and ready to go home with us. I bought peaches, apricots, pickling cucumbers, eggplant, oranges (7 lbs for $2), nopales (prickly pear cactus pad), dried oregano, star anise, cherry tomatoes, grapes, honey, pickled garlic, candied kiwi fruit and candied cantaloupe—all for less than $40. We ate barbecue ribs for lunch. The whole thing was awesome.

A little over a week ago we went blackberry picking with friends at a u-pick farm in Auburn called Amber Oaks Raspberries. In a word, yum!

This sweetie will be in Asher’s Kindergarten class, and my boys and the two girls got on very well together, while my friends and I picked and chatted. We came home with 7 pounds of berries.

There were two types for picking that day: one a little tart, perfect for jam. The other was for eating.

Peekaboo!

Asher picked about two berries. He proudly told me he ate them, like he put one over on me. Lucas helpfully picked two and a half baskets.

We had a wonderful picnic lunch with our friends after we were done picking. The kids played.

Then we came home and made jam! Beautiful, beautiful jam.

Isn’t it pretty? We got ten 8-oz. jars from our full sugar recipe. This was my first time canning by myself.

We froze some of the berries for using in smoothies. Then we made blackberry cobbler with the rest. It was fabulous!

To all my loves who are packing up and heading to that big, dusty dinner plate in Nevada for Burning Man,

Be well and safe. Revel. Unhook from your cares. Bounce around, shake your body. Cry a little. Use sunblock. Question everything. Rest and HYDRATE. Celebrate; it is YOUR TIME. Make love. Experience a whole solar day, dawn to dusk. Meet new friends. Be funny; be also kind. Ruminate. Shout really loud. Take naps. Eat some. Waltz in your stompy black boots. Pedal your bike as fast as you can. Leave no trace. Climb something big. Set something on fire. Take care of people. Stay up all night. Feel connected and FREE. Say yes.

Yes, I’m feeling sad I can’t be with you. Yes, this is a corny, romantic sendoff. Yes.

I should be doing a bunch of other things right now. Instead I’m going to talk in this space about fitness, my own fitness, in particular.

I am having more success this year than possibly ever before. Which is why hurting my back last weekend has really thrown me off. See, I’m not not exercising this week because I don’t want to. Well, OK. I’ll turn that around: I’m not exercising this week not because I’m too lazy, or my kid is sick, or there’s no time, but because I can’t. Because I should heal from whatever the hell I did to myself. Because I don’t want to make this mild injury worse.

And, well, this not exercising is kind of driving me nuts. I can actually, honestly say it: I’m missing my exercise this week. I’m feeling really hampered by this mild back pain, this slight impediment to my normal, everyday movements. And I don’t like it. I don’t want to rest.

Those who know me will realize how big that is.

Ian deserves all the credit, except for the fact that those calories I’ve been burning regularly since January 17, 2011 were my calories and I burned them. But Ian helped an awful lot—by coaxing, encouraging, cajoling, rousting, pushing, and loving me into our shared exercise and my fitter, stronger body.

It’s worked. I’ve accomplished 121 workouts since we started seven months ago. I won’t go into all the gritty details. The truth is I hated many of them, especially those that began and ended before 7 a.m. But what I like is the accumulation of them. The collection of workouts. The notches on my bad-ass belt. The sparkly jewels on my custom rainbow-and-unicorn reinforcement star chart that Ian made for me.

My relationship to exercise in general has always been wobbly—often emergency-room wobbly. Exercise has always meant to me asthma, asthma, and more asthma, running around toxic school fields of allergic green death. There have been some small exceptions in my adult life, since asthma maintenance drugs have improved immeasurably over those I took as a child. The crux there is they were always brief exceptions, short forays into the realm of normal people. In high school I enjoyed dancing in musical theater productions quite a lot. In college I walked all over the hills of Santa Barbara, Berkeley, and Saint Andrews in Scotland. During one of my office jobs, Ian and I managed to drag ourselves to the gym with good regularity.

Something always came up, though. Asthma. A massive deadline, or a whole season of them. A nursing baby in arms. Then another. It just got more and more complicated.

K, never mind all that. The point is: I’ve been running. A little. Since about March. A little here, a little there. Almost 2 miles, then almost 2.5. Then 2.7 miles a bunch of times, then that distance without any walking breaks at all.

Last Saturday, I ran 3.8 miles in a row without stopping. And when I was done, I felt fantastic.

So, I’m a runner? Me? Asthma girl? Running is the freakin’ Holy Grail to me because it’s always been so unattainable.

And now I’m benched. Slightly injured. For now. For not much longer, I hope. Because now that I’m on a roll—succeeding at this difficult thing—I really don’t want to lose it all and go back to Square-One Failure. The Harpies are shouting in my ear, “See, you can’t actually be a runner. You’re no athlete. Who do you think you’re kidding?” And I fear I will have to start over. I have fears.

I also have two stars to go before my rainbow is complete.

I’ve been doing quite a bit of writing and crafting for Little Acorn Learning these last few months, which has taken me away from blogging some. (Or maybe that was the nine weeks and counting of summer vacation.) Still, it’s been a fun challenge to be creative, learn new skills, and write tutorials and know someone might read it, might even try an activity inspired by my creation. I hope that’s happening somewhere …

I’ve gathered herbs, felted, sewed, made soap, folded and cut paper designs, made banners and wreaths for decorating a home or classroom for the changing seasons. I’m channeling my best Waldorf mama self for this and I hope I am being a good role model for my kids in the process. I’ve written poetry and even a song—like with music! These things are stretching me and fulfilling me in some exciting new ways. I never dreamed I could write a song, even one so simple as I wrote for May Day. (I’ll tell ya, that software was challenging!) I’ve tackled thorny themes such as solitude, sacrifice, optimism, and letting go. In my career as a magazine writer, I was rarely asked for my own opinion on anything; rather the focus was on finding an expert to voice their opinion and then writing it up all spiffy. This work is different and difficult and feels grand.

(These photos are ones that didn’t make the cut for my recent articles.)

The August Enrichment Guide can be purchased here. There’s tons of great stuff for families and homeschoolers, and I’m honored to be featured alongside some really amazing, creative contributors. If you buy one, please let me know what you think of my work.

What I haven’t managed to do much this summer is sew for my kiddos. My mother has made four or five pairs of shorts and pants for my boys during her summer break. I managed to sew only one pair of shorts for Lucas, but I did them all myself (with her advice and supervision). They have dragons. They even have pockets, which I’ve never done before. And he wears them. Win!

I have another pair cut out and ready to sew. I am hoping to work on those a bit this coming week. Fortunately here in California, we have a very long shorts season. Maybe I’ll even manage to finish those skirts I started for myself last summer. I hope so.

Oh, and there’s the next round of crafting and writing articles for September.  🙂

Scene: 1:38 a.m., two boys, led by the older one, pad into our bedroom.

“Dad! There’s a wasp in my bed, and Asher’s burning up with lava!”

“Mmmrffl—What?”

“There was a wasp in my room. I saw it. It flew by my head and I trapped it in my covers.”

“Mama, I need a drink of water.”

I get up. Lava?  “Um, OK. I’ll go look. Here’s some water, Asher.”

gulp, gulp, gulp

“More.”

“OK”

gulp, gulp, gulp

“More, please.”

gulp, gulp, gulp

“Asher, go potty now, please.”

In the boys’ room, “Lucas, your room is dark. How could you see a wasp?”

“Um, I don’t know. But I did.”

Light on, shaking out covers, “I don’t see anything, honey. Your bed is safe. I think it was a dream. Why don’t you go in and go potty?”

“But I saw it…. I’m glad it’s not in my bed.”

“Sometimes when we have to go potty in the night, we have strange dreams to wake us up.”

“Oh.”

Everybody goes back to sleep immediately, except me. I’m awake for an hour.

It’s the end of July and my garden is beautiful. It’s lush and sticky. It’s reaching high.

I have plants ranging wide, sprawling and searching for new nooks, new ladders to climb.

So many residents here are sunny and happy, compulsively blooming their hearts out,

bursting, bellowing, calling out their names,

flashing their colors and ruffles to the world.

Of course, there are quiet, shady moments in the day, moments of rest—

but when the sun is shining and the heat is on, it’s a riot,

a carnival with shining samba dancers wearing ruffles.

Their energy pulses out each morning and throughout the day.

There’s more than just vain flowers growing here. There is purpose. The corn has tassels, the pumpkins and squashes are tempting insects to visit.

The basil is zingy delicious and we’ve been picking beans for weeks. The sungold tomatoes are like candy right off the vine.

The song these plants are singing is  increase, grow, bloom, swell, mingle, and make.

For now.

And it’s all feeding us in so many ways.

Breakfast dishes, with two small helpers.

Putting away laundry, also with help. Halleluia!

Chicken care and feeding.

Kitchen science, on the cheap.

Safetytown USA, where we learned about fire safety, bike safety (“Wear your helmets, kids,” says Uncle Mario), and how to be safe near electrical wires and power stations, stray animals, strangers, and assorted other dangerous things. Safetytown is a mini town, with scaled-down buildings, working traffic lights, and a little pretend railroad crossing. We practiced crossing the street a lot.

Ours was a self-guided tour, which gave us some map-reading and reading practice. Lucas did a great job!

It also gave us lots of opportunities to sit and watch DVD presentations play. :-/  Still, the kids were mostly engaged.

We learned about not playing with matches or lighters, about “Don’t Hide! Get Outside!”, about crawling on the ground if there’s a fire, and having a family fire escape plan and meeting place. Although Lucas already knew a lot of this stuff, I think it was Asher’s first introduction to “Stop! Drop! Roll!”

There was a boring trip to the grocery store, made somewhat less boring by buying crummy Chinese potstickers, chow mein, and egg rolls for lunch.

We watered the garden where it was looking thirsty.

We watered the boys, who raced through the hose spray.

I fetched 17 glasses of ice water for thirsty humans. That water cooler idea is looking really good in the heat of summer.

We made mango, orange, yogurt pops.

The 4 p.m. tantrum came right on schedule.

Two storybooks.

Some math and language arts practice.

Piano practice.

Lucas tried on his new gi to show me. He looks so handsome and grown up.

Quite a day, no?