I read about making ice lanterns on one of my favorite blogs, Ordinary Life Magic, and just had to try it. Stephanie is brilliant and you should read her tutorial if you want to do this. Thanks for the inspiration, Stephanie!

Trouble is, where we live in California, we don’t have snow or freezing temps. But we do have …. (drumroll) …. freezer technology!

Lucas helped me clip and gather lots of little bits from our garden, which these days is looking a lot soggier, muddier, and more cluttered with decaying leaves than usual. Still, there are plenty of colorful bits and bobs to find: autumn leaves, berries, sprigs from our redwood trees, and even a few stubborn flowers still.

Fortunately, Ian hadn’t yet succeeded in his bid to get rid of the old and mismatched food storage containers, so I was able to use them. We had to find rocks to weigh down the inner container. This is when my kids lost interest, so I carried on bravely without them.

First, I froze an inch of water in my large, cylindrical container to make a base of the lantern. Then I set the smaller, weighted cylindrical container inside the bigger one. I put the nature bits and bobs into the space between the inner and outer containers, then poured water into the space and set the whole thing carefully on a level shelf in the freezer. I tested the ice after a few hours and decided it wouldn’t really be done until the morning.

The next day, we carefully transported the whole thing, containers and all—frozen solid—to brunch the next morning at our friends’ house. It was the hostess’s birthday and she is, and always has been, a candle nut, so we presented our ice lantern to her as a gift, with a gaily burning tea light inside it. It turned out beautiful!

Some things I learned in doing this:

* Ice expands when it freezes (of course) and may make your outer container bulge if it’s plastic, so don’t use something you wouldn’t want to be ruined. (A coffee can might work best.)

* Don’t use glass; I used a glass jar as my inner container of one of my lanterns and it broke before it released from the ice.

* You can easily remove your inner container by pouring in some warm water. Just make sure you haven’t accidentally spilled water into the inner container before freezing, for of course, that will freeze too and make it difficult to pull out the inner container.

* If your ice lantern breaks into two pieces like mine did, you can put it back into the freezer (still protected within the outer container) and the broken parts will freeze together again.

* If you put your ice lantern on a plate or flat surface to display it indoors, it will probably slide around as it melts. I improvised a solution by putting down a paper towel first, setting the lantern atop it, and then disguising the towel with autumn leaves. If you have snow, you can put your lantern on a pile of snow, or I suppose sand would work to keep it centered, too, and would be naturally pretty.

We have a quiet Thanksgiving Day today. Quiet enough to think a bit about what I’m grateful for.

* My beautiful sons, strong, brilliant, and hale. They are the sunlight of my days. They have transformed me.
* My loving, noble husband who takes care of all of us and brings out the real me. He is my shelter and my heart.
* My parents and Ian’s parents, for all that they are and do, and for all they helped us to become.
* My precious, clever, quirky, shining friends. They know why.
* My safe, comfortable home filled with all that I really need and lots more besides.
* My ever-hungry brain and my many hobbies, which nourish me in so many ways. I am still growing.
* My undeniable, abundant opportunities, a plethora of blessings and experiences that I’ve enjoyed all my days. I am especially grateful that we can now offer amazing opportunities to our children as they grow.
* My family members whose love and courage are so great that they do the tasks that no one else wants to do.

We are so very, very rich. I am sending out my love to all of you on this Thanksgiving Day. Blessed be.

The sunlight fast is dwindling,
My little lamp needs kindling,
Its beam shines far in darkest night
Dear Lantern guard me with your light.

Last night’s Martinmas lantern walk with Asher’s preschool friends was so magical. We had a sit-down dinner of homemade soup, salad, bread, and pumpkin pie. It was wonderful to get to better know the other families whose children attend the school.

An angel lighted the children’s lanterns with a spark from heaven.

Then we walked through the neighborhood with our lanterns shining brightly.

The kids were so excited to be walking through the night and their exuberance and jumping about caused many candles to blow out. (Thank goodness Ian brought a lighter along! He’s a veteran of several such preschoolers-with-fire events.)

When we returned we followed a path lit by stars and met Mother Earth in the garden, who gave the children precious gifts to plant in the ground. She told us to guard our light and keep it safe through the darkness of the winter.

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.

This story is really not about me, but I’m going to tell my part in it because it gave me great joy.

Lucas’s class is performing the Russian story of the Firebird in Eurhythmy this week. The performance is on Thursday and they’ve worked quite hard on it. I cannot wait to see this performance and I know already it’s going to make me cry. Lucas is excited about it, too.

A whole crew of volunteers was recruited to sew fancy dresses for the girls to wear. I was asked to do this part: paint the Firebird’s fabric wings.

With paints.

I love paints.

I love to paint.

Here’s my inspiration and reference material: The Firebird by Demi.

So this is how I spent part of my Sunday afternoon, outside in my unseasonably warm backyard, with the fabric clipped to my fence, while the wind rushed about blowing leaves into my way.

This is how I left it last night, with the back almost finished (not all the tail feathers were done). Today I painted the front because when the Firebird spreads her wings, you’ll see the underside. I’ve also spent some time adding details, like more gold shimmer.

I don’t have a daylight photo of the wings finished at this point. I’ll try to snap one in the morning before I send this off to school. I fervently hope that this garment will work. The paint has made the fabric pretty stiff, so I’m hoping the Eurhythmy teacher doesn’t expect lots of flowing, draping softness!

Doing this was such fun! I wish I could paint more often!

Lucas has just passed his half birthday, bringing him to the ripe old age of 8 and a half. And although I took these photos about a month ago, to me they capture something of his present age. This is my sensitive, clever boy flying through the air, determined, sure-footed, and courageous. He knows his capabilities. He can plan his footfalls, and he can adapt and switch course if he needs to.

He is self-assured and confident. He often marches into unknown territory with aplomb. His place in the universe is known and secure.

But there is still plenty of room for striving, for challenging himself, for testing and experimenting. It’s imperative. He must negotiate his way through space, through relationships, through his own needs and self-knowledge. He knows that he might get hurt, but he also knows he will heal if he does.

Sometimes he falls short or is disappointed. Sometimes he takes blows to his ego. Sometimes, despite all our efforts, he feels unloved and unwanted. He sits in judgment on himself and sometimes he doesn’t like what he sees. This too, is part of his age. He’s right where he’s supposed to be, figuring out who he is, and where and in what ways he is separate from others.

At this moment, he’s preparing to leave home. He has been planning an adventure for a few days now—one that he’s going on all by himself. He needs some freedom, he tells us. (At first his plan was to spend a whole day and night away, on his own, but that’s been modulated down to a more reasonable bike ride to his friends’ house a few blocks away. He knows to call me when he arrives there.)

Carpe diem! He is ready. He has a backpack full of provisions—lunch, a magnifying glass, and notebooks for any scientific discoveries he might make along the way. He also has his wand, just in case any bad guys or Dementors hassle him. He has his instructions and air in his tires. He knows his phone number.

Ah. That’s the bell on his bike. I hear it ringing as he rides out of the driveway, shouting good-bye. He made sure to give me a big hug and kiss, and gave some to his dad and brother, too. I saw the sparkle in his eyes. He is full of both our concern and our trust. He is feeling big, and capable, and sure.

Fare thee well, my sweet son.

I have to write this down before I forget. It was so beautiful yet fleeting.

Last night, while Ian was cooking dinner and I was working, our two brilliant boys played together. Not bickered, not cajoled, not provoked, not poked—but played together.

And choirs of angels sang. And the night sky burst open with beams of silver moonlight. And fairies everywhere got their wings.

There is now sometimes a sliver of a sweet spot, when Lucas pulls out of his emotional upheavals and budding analysis and Asher rides the tide of his blossoming imagination and role-playing—a place where they meet on some magical common ground. Maybe it’s fairyland. Maybe it’s Neverland.

Good Sir Knight Asher went looking for a worthy opponent to fight, and thought he found one in the Wicked Knight Lucas. He came galumphing forth to the throne of Queen Princess Mommy, to inform her that he would save the kingdom. But it turned out that Lucas was actually a Gentle and Wise Wizard, a longtime friend and counselor of the Queen Princess. Indeed, the two noble men were actually both on the side of Good and Right People, and together they set out on a Quest, traveling far and wide through dangerous lands. The Good Knight was brave and strong and the Wise Wizard used White Magic to face down the darkness.

They even rescued a baby, who was found locked in a dungeon, hungry and cold, and swaddled him up to take him home with them.

We had a marvelous day Saturday at the Sacramento Waldorf School’s Harvest Faire. I was delighted to be asked to shoot photos at the festival. So many amazing and talented people worked tirelessly to pull off this community event and fundraiser. Their dedication and attention to detail is visible in every scene I shot.

Welcome to the Sacramento Waldorf School Harvest Faire!

This is Asher’s dear friend S, who goes to preschool with him. They had such fun in the Kindergarten yard, running and playing follow the leader. We saw two other dear preschool friends there, too. Asher was over the moon!

Asher got to see the puppet play of George and the Dragon, performed in the Kindergarten. It was delightful.

I was so honored to be allowed to take pictures during the puppet show performance. These dedicated women (plus the narrator who is not pictured) are the Kindergarten teachers. They infuse love and light in everything they do.

The Children’s Store was full of inexpensive treasures for the little ones to buy, either for themselves or for their loved ones. Many of the items were handmade.

The Country Store was also full of lovely items, much of them handcrafted. Jams, honey, hats, decorations, toys, games, clothing, artworks, yarns and supplies—you name it. Here’s my Harvest Mother in the foreground, who sold early and for a good price, and the room’s nature table in the background.

The third grade parents offered beeswax candle dipping to Harvest Faire guests. (I got to help with setup on Friday, and Ian did two shifts on Saturday.) Candle dippers walked in a large circle, dipping their candlewicks in warm beeswax and then walking a few paces to let it cool, dipping in cool water, walking a few paces and then repeating. After a while, you have a nice candle that you can decorate. I saw one little girl pressing tiny seed beads into her fresh candle, to make a little mermaid design.

Paints for gourd painting: I’m kind of sorry I didn’t get more shots of this booth, as I’m sure some colorful gourds were made.

There was a whole room dedicated to showing off Waldorf students’ schoolwork. Every grade was represented, including high school subjects like chemistry and humanities.

The vendors were terrific this year and I’m sorry I didn’t have the funds for serious shopping. These carved Halloween gourds are the work of a friend, Miss Katy. They’re boo-tiful.

One booth was decorating a fairy scene. Children could make a little fairy doll and then glue special trinkets like shells, jewels, and tiny pumpkins onto the scene.

Basket of fairy wreaths. You could make your own!

Asher had a wonderful time! He was my little Acorn Boy that day, sporting grandma’s knits.

The ninth grade sold produce from the school farm and other local organic farms—a kind of mini farmers’ market in the Faire.

This is the Festivals Room, which was a display of all the seasons of the year and the various festivals celebrated in Waldorf schools and homes. Some loving volunteers put this together and it was magical.

Autumn scene from the Festivals Room.

Lucas and X got to play tag and be rowdy for a while. These two get along so beautifully. Later, they got to shoot a bow!

There was so much more. I might just indulge in another post.