We had a beautiful time camping with Lucas’s fifth grade class last the other weekend. We went to D. L. Bliss State Park on Lake Tahoe. Everything about the weekend was lovely.

I was so taken with the beauty of this place. We are definitely coming here again. We hiked on Saturday along the lake and were treated to views like this. Asher, Ian, and I hiked almost four miles, which was impressive for our 5-year-old.

All along our hike we were treated with exquisite sites: bleached, dead manzanita branches and glittering green and gold leaves of living manzanita; vanilla-scented Jeffrey pine trees; sparkling lake waters in tiny coves;

sparkling lake waters in tiny coves (I could have spent my whole day here!);

a trickle of a waterfall and a wet crossing;

and wildflowers and gorgeous evergreens at every turn.

This is Asher along the hike—after a snack of trail mix and a little rest, he was ready for more.

The waters of Lake Tahoe truly are blue. Clean. Pure. Inspiring blue. With shallow bits of aquamarine to take your breath away.

We hiked all the way to Emerald Bay, where the Vikingsholm historic site is. As we three were stragglers, we were lucky to meet up with our friends in time to book up the mountain to the road  and then catch rides back to our campsite. Lucas hiked back with friends and a few parents, making a round trip of about seven and a half miles. Along the way, his sandals disintegrated. It didn’t stop him.

We spent part of Saturday afternoon and Sunday on the shore. The only problem with this place is that dogs aren’t welcome on the trails or beaches, as it’s a state park. We had our little Solstice dog with us and we like taking him camping, but I can see that this is something of a limitation. Thank goodness one of our friends was willing to keep Solstice while we hiked the trail on Saturday!

We swam in cold water, which didn’t slow the children down a wit and was surprisingly lovely, once I got use to it. The children played in kayaks and rafts. Adults sunbathed and chatted. It was relaxing and wonderful and I can’t wait to do it all again next year.

And if by chance you are wondering, Where are the photos of Lucas? It was his class camping trip after all. Well, all I can say is he never once sat still long enough for me to take his picture. He was riding his bike, off with friends, hiking, or in the water the whole time. And, for the most part, we tried to give him his space. Here is one of the few I have of him, out in a raft on the lake.

I spent some time caring for my grandmother today. It’s a long story, but her usual caregivers were temporarily unavailable and my dad asked me to step in and help. At first I was annoyed. I’m very busy with work right now and I’m facing multiple deadlines. I agreed to do it because—obviously—it is the right thing to do; nevertheless I was feeling put out. Even though I am never asked to do this.

Now I am so glad I did.

This is my beautiful grandmother. She is 93 years old. I love her very much.

It is hard to see people you love changing as they age, changing noticeably each time you see them. I don’t like it. I am inexperienced when it comes to being around and caring for elderly people. I was scared to be in charge of her well-being.

It was fine. It was easy, thanks to my dad and others who have this territory all mapped out already. I just had to follow some simple instructions and all the difficult stuff was done when I arrived. I am grateful that grandma took her medications so easily at my request—that was part of what I was worried about.

I wandered a little while I was there, trying hard to notice things about her—about her home, about her likes and loves, her collections, her style.

There are careful touches in every nook, beloved items placed with intention.

The marks of her hand and her sister’s hand, Nana, with whom my grandmother lived for most of her life, are everywhere.

Photographs of family members cover walls, bookshelves, and tabletops. Paintings and prints, delicate wallpaper, rich drapes decorate the space. Beautiful light is everywhere. Everything is just so.

But that’s not all I noticed, while I was there. It’s not only my grandmother’s careful hand I see. I see my father’s, my uncle’s, and my aunt’s—they are part of her world every day, ensuring that she is OK, makes it to doctor appointments, and has company. They stay with her when her caregivers are away, do the shopping, and much more.

I see it in a hundred gifts given with love over the years.

The evidence of caring is all around, especially in the fact that my grandmother is still living in her home, despite her age and infirmities. It’s in the American flag that’s hanging on the house, just as it has done every July of my grandmother’s life. Someone put it there for her. It’s in the tiny china dish, fashioned in the shape of a teapot and painted with flowers, that holds her daily medications for after breakfast. It’s in the coffee, water, and orange juice that are served to her in the morning, and in the fact that they let her put syrup on her frosted danish. It’s in the special, mechanical chair that she sits in to watch her game shows. It’s in the living orchids and other houseplants that someone carefully waters. Fresh carnations sit in a vase on the dining table. Her pale yellow socks matched her pale yellow outfit, even though she cannot dress herself. I see it in her hairdo, which is set faithfully every week, and in her manicured nails.

None of this is easy, this maintenance that is done to keep her well and comfortable. I am full of wonder and gratitude, and not a little sadness.

Life is full of mighty lessons these days. I am trying hard to learn them.

We surprised the boys with a picnic dinner the other night after swimming. We haven’t had a chance to leave town yet, so I’m trying to find little slices of heaven close to home. The river is running very high and very fast this summer. Although there was a small beach, I wasn’t comfortable letting the boys get in the water.

I read about this secluded little park on the American River and decided to check it out. Its entrance is sandwiched between two private residences in a ritzy neighborhood and the park is very small. They have the eleven-space parking lot closed during the summer, which I take to mean that the ritzy neighbors don’t want riffraff using their park.

Nevertheless, we weren’t the only people there. One family was fishing. Another group brought their dog down for … well, they seemed to want him to get wet. He wasn’t too keen on that plan. One couple swam a while, which looked fairly risky to me.

We waited for Daddy to bring Solstice dog and our picnic dinner, as the boys and I came here straight from swimming practice. It was a beautiful place for a picnic.

We watched the sun sink lower and light up the far bank.

We watched the Canada geese and mallard ducks. Solstice dog wanted those ducks sooooo bad.

I (obviously) played with Instagram on my phone camera.

Lucas enjoyed some time with his Wimpy Kid book. Asher and Daddy explored a bit, and Asher tried to play with another little boy who was there. We ate ham sandwiches and apples and blueberries and corn chips. Simple. Perfect.

Sunlight is flooding
The widths of space
The son of the birds echoes
Through the realms of the air
The blessing of plants sprouts
From the being of the earth
And human souls lift themselves
In feelings of thankfulness
To the Spirits of the World.

—Rudolf Steiner

Happy Summer Solstice! Here is a little tea concoction I made and it was so yummy, we’ll definitely do this again:

• two green tea bags
• lemon slices, squeezed into the water
• lemon balm leaves
• sweetener of your choice

(Steep all day, strain, and then chill before drinking.)

We have had a marvelous day and I hope you have, too.

We made a giant summer sun mosaic cookie together. Here it is before baking. And here is the basic giant cookie recipe from Mel’s Kitchen Cafe. This kind of thing goes over really big with my children. Lucas made the face; Asher did the eyebrows and the sun rays around the outside. Since the boys got soooo excited about putting the Reese’s candies on top, I realize now that I didn’t need to put peanut butter chips into the dough.

We painted suns, inspired by my co-author and friend Eileen Straiton’s project in our Midsummer Festival E-Book. I think once they’re dry we’ll hang them.

Then we had a beautiful Solstice feast of shrimp tostadas and several fresh salads. I needed lots of circles and colors and fresh veggies in this meal. We even added in some nasturtiums from our garden. We had so much gorgeous food, I wished we had guests to share it with! This is one of my favorite things: Eating amazing California food outside in summertime, when the day has been hot but the evening delta breezes pick up just in time.

“Give me the splendid silent sun with all his beams full-dazzling.” —Walt Whitman

Also, today marks six months since our little dog Solstice came to our family. He followed our boys home on December 21 and hasn’t left our side since then. We love him so much, and we’re all grateful to have him.

Here’s to unexpected blessings that follow you home and take up residence in your heart.

Here’s to abundance of joy, nourishment, learning, and opportunity.

Here’s to family traditions carefully conceived and simply crafted.

Here’s to courage, doing good, and generosity.

Blessed Be.

It was a very full day, with kid-made cards, brunch at grandma and grandpa’s house, Ian’s amazing crepes, dogs and siblings, swimming, and then hosting grandpa and Mimi at our home for a dinner of Korean barbecue spare ribs, salads, and homemade vanilla ice cream. We celebrated GG’s birthday, too! The boys made great gifts for Daddy in clay camp this week, but sadly these items are not fired yet and he’ll have to wait a little while until they are finished.

We are so fortunate to have the best Daddy ever, and so many wonderful grandfathers in our lives!

Happy Father’s Day to all the great dads out there. Here’s mine, and I love him completely.

Summer vacation is off to a good start! The school year ended at our Waldorf school with a beautiful ceremony for the graduating seniors and the symbolic moving of classrooms for the other grades. Lucas’s fourth grade packed up and moved to the fifth-grade classroom. On the last day, all the students lined up and shook the hands of all the teachers, who wished them a happy summer. It was a day full of celebration and a great exhalation. It felt like coming to the end of a favorite book—a little bittersweet. This year has been a marvelous journey for our whole family and we are so blessed to be where we are, who we are, and with these loving people around us.

A lot of heavy, heartbreaking things have been and are going on these days among our friends. This has lead me to need to circle the proverbial wagons a bit. I am looking for ways to take care of us, myself included, in the hopes that our hearts will mend. And frankly Band-Aid solutions are totally acceptable, such as an extra glass of wine for parents, or the impulse-buy ice-cream maker, or babysitting extra kids just so we can squeeze and giggle with a beautiful baby for a while.

Never underestimate the power of Baby Therapy.

I am also counting mercies, big and small:

• my son is loving swim team this summer
• my dog doesn’t chew on my kids’ toys
• my husband feeds us so well
• we have friends in the activities we’ve enrolled in
• my flowers bloom whether I feel happy or sad, and my hydrangeas are out of this world
• my new painting class starts this Thursday
• my little son is enjoying Clay Camp, even though he was afraid to try it at first
• we have received a dinner invitation for Friday
• I’ve had some time to visit some friends going through difficult times
• most of my cotton summer skirts still fit
• I’ve had time off from work this week to help us find a new rhythm
• my boys don’t have any cavities
• I got my Mother’s Day card from Lucas on the last day of school

And so we enter another summertime. Here we are again, bumping into each other—with love, (im)patience, and familiarity—trying to figure out once again how to spend long summer days together, while adapting to all the growth and changes we’ve all undergone since the last time. We’ll get the hang of it soon. Hello, summer!

For Mirabella. We love you.

Candle of love and hope for my friends.

A lot is going on right now and I’ve not had much time to write. I had a birthday this week and it got me ruminating. Here’s some of what I’ve learned in my 40 years. (Some of these say “you,” but they all mean “me.”)

1. clean something every day, even if it’s only your hands

2. read to your kids; it is food for life

3. mothering well is largely a matter of knowing what things to get excited about, and what not to

4. wine is wonderful

5. smiling makes you feel good and it’s free (sometimes I forget this one)

6. make a place for butterflies and birds in your world; you won’t be sorry

7. stuff is only stuff; it all wears out eventually

8. beware of modeling beeswax in the laundry

9. tell your story, but don’t get so caught up in telling it that you forget to live the next chapter

10. children are resilient; however, test this only with careful discrimination

11. make your own meaning, don’t swallow anyone else’s

12. read poetry; read everything

13. when you fuck up, breathe, and then start over

14. being married to your best friend is ideal

15. try new things every day

16. exercise is good for me even if I don’t like it

17. fashion is stupid—occasionally fun, but stupid

18. it feels good to help people

19. somehow, time can both fly and drag—at the same time

20. words can indeed hurt

21. onions and Brussels sprouts are actually delicious

22. sing more, dance more

23. be your own beautiful freaky self out loud; if you don’t you’re cheating everyone

24. avoid the pink aisle and boys need dolls

25. sometimes the best course of action is to set it on fire

26. vote

27. gardening is cheaper than therapy

28. feminism benefits everyone

29. art is important, and more important to make than to consume

30. boys are actually sweeter than they want you to think they are

31. love and kindness is all the religion I need

32. equality for only some is no equality at all

33. find your cause; better yet, find a dozen of them and get to work

34. miracles are everywhere and often go by the names of “humanity” and “nature,” “life” and “science”; as such, they are no less miraculous

35. making it often feels better than buying it

36. I cannot “do all the things”; nor should I try to

37. a whole lot of things that bother me today won’t matter a bit tomorrow, so I should just chill

38. I am still learning

39. friendship is as necessary to me as air

40. my ultimate career goal is still philanthropist