Our Christmas was so nice this year. We eased into it. I had some downtime and the kids and I were able to prepare the house, little by little.

We spent some time stamping our own wrapping paper, making star ornaments for gifts, and making decorations for our home, like this evergreen garland that we hung above our front door and decorated with ornaments and a bow.

We had our traditional sushi dinner with Ian’s father and his lovely girlfriend, Miriam (whom we call Mimi). Always a high point of our Christmas season—a moment of relaxation juxtaposed with great antici—-pation.This year we got to hear a little more about their recent trip to Peru, when they visited Machu Picchu and climbed to—I forget exactly—umpteen thousand feet above sea level.

Our boys woke bright and early on Christmas morning, just as they always do.

Stockings and presents from Santa came first. Santa brought Asher this cool soccer ball in his favorite color!

And he brought Lucas a calligraphy set, with three pens, and several different ink colors and a book to learn how to make fancy letters. (Waldorf sixth graders study the Middle Ages, you know.) Santa also brought a family present, one for the four of us to enjoy together: Castle Ravenloft, a Dungeons & Dragons board game!

And some Magic the Gathering cards came in each stocking. These are a huge hit around here lately.

Then an amazing and touching thing happened: The boys allowed me to open my present first, and it turned out to be a scavenger hunt that they put together with Ian. I had to find notes and pieces of my present all over the house. Each note had a clue where to go next. Canvases in sizes I’ve never used before (two big ones!) and a beautiful HUGE paintbrush. It was delightful and such a surprise!

The rest of our morning at home was about exchanging sweet gifts. Asher gave me a beautiful rose quartz crystal, wrapped in a rainbow silk—both his own precious belongings. He gave daddy a fairy jewel. Lucas was pleased with his gift to Ian: a copy of Fortunately the Milk, by Neil Gaiman. He sure knows his dad!

One of my gifts to Lucas was a collection of prints showing Lord of the Rings actors and Tolkien quotations. I hope he likes them. (We still haven’t put them up yet.)

Such abundance! Books, modeling clay, LEGO Chima (Asher’s favorite!), new running shoes for active boys, sketch books and art supplies. Daddy and I both got some workout gear. I guess some families do just one or two gifts each. We do a bunch of smallish gifts that support each other’s dreams and hobbies. I like it. But this year was a departure from normal: The boys opened a big box containing Mickey Mouse ears and travel brochures. We are all going to Disneyland in February!!!

It took a little while for this information to sink in …

(Many, many thanks to my uncle Mike and aunt Julie for procuring the hats and brochures from the Magic Kingdom itself. They helped to make the deferred trip seem real.)

I love moments like this one: Ian relaxing in his favorite chair, with his fluffy dog, a new book, new slippers on his feet, and a cup of joe.

On Christmas day, we also visited family at Ian’s parents’ home and my parents’ home. We were grateful to see grandparents, cousins, and aunts and uncles at both. More gifts, good food, and silliness were the orders of the day. Can’t beat it! Asher received a toy bow with nerf-tipped arrows that fly far and don’t hurt anything when they hit; it’s one of his favorites. Grandma VoVo gave the boys such a clever thing: a money-saving jar with a counter and a bunch of coins. She wrote Disneyland on it so they can save up for our trip next month. Lucas received what I think is one of the hottest toys of the season: a rainbow loom for making rubber band bracelets. Grandma Sydney sewed them each new pajamas and knitted them hats. Such lucky, lucky boys. Truly, we are all so very blessed in every way.

The days that follow Christmas are always some of our favorite days of the whole year. We are together at home, snuggly warm and content. We have lots of wonderful new diversions. We can play together. Slowly we clean up after the holiday party at our home; slowly we eat up delicious leftovers. The boys pored over many, many new Magic cards from Uncle Tate.

It has been unseasonably warm here for the last two months, as you can probably see in this photo. We played soccer with Asher’s new ball at the school field at the end of our street—in shirt sleeves and shorts!

The new ball drew a crowd of neighborhood boys. 🙂

And we played our new family D&D game. Thanks Santa!

There’s much more to say about the two weeks of Christmas vacation, I’m sure. But I’ve sat on this post for too long already. So I’ll sign off with this gorgeous winter sunset and say simply, we are happy and so blessed. I hope your winter holidays were equally magical.

Happy New Year!

For our family this past year has been good overall. We’ve all grown so much, learning joyfully and meeting our challenges with determination and sometimes with grace. We have pursued goals, developed skills, made friends, and found and made new opportunities. We have carved a place for ourselves. We have faced our fears. We have dug deep to find additional strength and resolve. We have unearthed some old psychic muck and purged some baggage that no longer serves us. We have planted seeds of joy and nourished gardens of all kinds. We have bumbled and bumped along, at times, and our experiences have polished us a little bit more. I am repeatedly humbled by our amazing good fortune, most especially in our friends and loved ones. I am constantly amazed by and inspired by the courageous people around us, who serve as our support network and as excellent examples of compassion, understanding, goodness, bravery, and arete. Our boys continue to be our raison d’etre and an endless fountain of love in our lives.

I wish for our family, and for you and yours, fourteen essential blessings in 2014:

1. love
2. good luck/opportunity
3. prosperity
4. good health and stronger bodies
5. creativity
6. learning
7. friendship
8. laughter and whimsy
9. peace in our homes
10. forgiveness of self and others
11. patience
12. perseverance
13. dreaming
14. trust

Blessed Be.

I’m going to take a break from all the winter holiday stuff to tell you about an adventure we had earlier this month. As a gift to my elf-fantasy-archery-sword-loving son I bought an online coupon for West Coast Falconry’s basic falconry lesson way back in May. I bought three coupons—our younger son is too young—and we finally were able to redeem them on December 7. OH MY GOODNESS, I am so very glad that this deal caught my eye because it was everything we could have hoped for!

West Coast Falconry is in Marysville, a bit more than an hour’s drive from where we live. We drove up with our friends Tate and Lady K, who also bought the same coupon. We all learned so much and had a blast.

We worked with Shvak, a Harris hawk. Jana is a master falconer and she has been working with Shvak for nine years. She and two other women taught us about the history of falconry (the earliest mention of falconry is from 10,000 years ago, in the Epic of Gilgamesh!). (One woman, Shawna, frequently teaches at Effie Yeaw Nature Center and both of my sons have been in her classes before. It was neat to see her in her element here.)

We got to see Shvak fly for treats (quail heads). Hawks are very careful about not expending energy without a reward. This makes them discerning hunters.

And we all got to call Shvak and she flew to our glove. Then flew to the next glove. She is amazingly light—only 2 pounds!

Whenever I held Shvak, I got that glorious heart-in-throat feeling. Being so close to a creature so wild, so exquisitely specialized, so alien and fierce filled me with exultation.

Here Ian is holding Don Diego, whose full name is Don Diego Alejandro Santiago Saragossa Inigo Montoya Del Gato. He is two-thirds the size of Shvak, weighing only 1.5 pounds.

Just look at this proud boy with Diego!

Harris hawks (Parabuteo unicinctus) are native to the Southwest US. They live in the desert and hunt cooperatively, somewhat like wolves, we learned. This is unique among birds of prey. Our teachers told us that the Harris hawk has revolutionized the sport of falconry around the world, making it a sport you can do with companions. Other birds of prey are territorial and will fight.

We learned also that Shvak has a crushing strength of 500 psi in her talons. Learning falconry and becoming licensed is a very intensive process that includes a long apprenticeship, exams, and inspections. And a trained falconer must capture a juvenile bird from the wild in order to raise it and train it to hunt. Birds raised in captivity aren’t allowed to hunt.

Hawks fly low to the ground to take advantage of thermals before rising to land on a person’s hand.

This is a lure; it’s how the falconer calls the bird back. When the hawk sees this she comes immediately back and attacks it. This is the posture she uses when she takes down her prey.

She knows from training that doing so will bring yummy, organ meat rewards.

It was a delightful and interesting hour. I hope we can go back another day and either take another class or do the Hawk Walk. It is truly a unique and stirring experience to be near these birds.

Happy Santa Lucia Day! Yesterday Asher and I made a lovely cardamom bread dough and the boys and I shaped it together after school.

I had a baking mishap—I cooked it a little too long, or maybe too hot—and so it’s a little browner on top than I’d like it to be, but it still tastes delicious in every other regard. We had a nice, special breakfast this morning. I am pretty sure the kids weren’t too into it this year, although Lucas did say Santa Lucia bread is his favorite bread. Asher wouldn’t eat it. What can ya do?

The Winter Concert is tonight at our Waldorf school, and the whole school, grades 2 through 12, will perform songs with voices and instruments. The sixth grade is performing the traditional (for us?) sword dance tonight. Every year it is a joy to watch, but this year is special to me because Lucas’s class is dancing. He is not very enthusiastic about it.

(This is a sword dance shot from last year.)

Anyway, I hope this day brings you a sweet moment of light in the darkness. May you be with people who shine love into your life.

This is part of what St. Nicholas brought my boys this year. They diligently polished their dress shoes on the evening of December 5 and placed them near the front door, hoping for goodies. In the morning we woke in the dark to Asher whispering, “He was here! St. Nicholas brought presents!”

Each of my sons received a small brass candle holder and a candle, a crystal point, a chocolate, and an orange. Amazingly the chocolates weren’t consumed until three days later! The oranges were gobbled up before school that morning.

These candles have revived our nightly candle prayer. Lucas enjoys lighting them with matches and Asher is fascinated to have his own candle. Lucas told me, “Mom, there’s just nothing better than reading a dragon book by candlelight.”

Thank you, Kind Old St. Nicholas Dear!

Happy Thanksgiving! I hope you’ve all had a wonderful holiday. I warn you, this post is going to try to do too much.

Thanksgiving vacation has been all in all pretty great. It started a day early with my grandmother’s funeral services. That first weekend was full and emotionally difficult, but the funeral services eased into an early Thanksgiving family gathering (Ian’s family this time), where people were kind and gentle to me and let me slide on everything because I was sad, and then a party at my home for Tony and our local November birthday girls. My friends made it soooo easy for me to host that party by helping to prepare my house. Once I got over being embarrassed by the neglected state of things, I let go and allowed them to make the place sparkle and shine. When the day of the party came, I just got to sit back and enjoy having my home full of lovely, friendly people. Many, many thanks to Lady K and Jami for making it so perfect.

I got to do two trail runs with Stacy. She is a super running partner for me—very encouraging and she has introduced me to the joys of running on the trails instead of the street. We’re evenly matched, and that means I don’t have to worry about holding her back, and vice verse. Running near the river means we get to see vistas and oak trees, deer trails and sparkling sunshine. This fills my heart as much as the running does.

While they had time off, the kids and I did some normal stuff, like shoe buying and errands. We had lunch with Papa and Uncle Mike one day. I couldn’t help but think I should go and visit my grandmother, but … the time for doing that is done.

We went running at Del Campo high school’s track on the day before Thanksgiving. We were getting ready for The Run to Feed the Hungry the next day. Thanksgiving morning dawned and we four went to East Sacramento to run a 10K. My goal was to run together as a family, keeping to our six-almost-seven-year-old’s pace—run when he could run, walk when he wanted to walk. It kind of worked and kind of didn’t. I kind of got the experience I had hoped for, but … well, let’s say that Ian was right and I was wrong and it is evidently too hard for fast boys to slow down enough to meet mama’s family experience agenda. We’ll chock this up to experience; I don’t actually know if we can do this event together again.

Asher ran 5.5 miles. We walked the rest and I’m so proud of him. He was absolutely determined to run, and lots of people cheered him on all along the course.

Here we are after the race. There were approximately 30,000 people there. The weather was perfect. The mood, festive. The course started and finished at Sacramento State University and looped through lovely East Sacramento. It was nice and flat.

And let me boast a moment by saying that running this 10K was an incredible accomplishment for me, personally. I’ve never been able to run this far in my life. I am slow, but the training I’ve been doing these last two months has paid off.

A big part of why I’m pushing so hard to rewire my brain about exercise is because I see how naturally movement and athletics comes to my family. I see how much joy they derive from using their bodies and I want very much to be a good role model for them. I also want to be physically capable of doing things they like to do. They have inspired me to be better about this aspect of my life.

Anyway, Thanksgiving. We went to my parents’ home for Thanksgiving dinner and enjoyed a few hours with them and my brother and his girlfriend. It was relaxed and easy, and just what I needed.

Sorry, more trail run pics. (Stopping just a sec to take a photo is fun and then I have pretty evidence that I really did it.) Stacy doesn’t seem to mind. We ran yesterday morning I am thrilled to keep going even after meeting our race goal.

We visited with my mother’s side of the family yesterday, too. Her brothers were in town visiting, so we got all five siblings together. Many thanks to my cousin Emily and her husband Mike for hosting. The shape of our family has changed and it was nice to meet all the kids and get them together. It was sweet how well they got along!

Asher and I have been reading a lot about Pilgrims, and the “first Thanksgiving” of 1621, which is entirely mythologized in our American culture. We’ve read about the time when the Wampanoag encountered the colonists at Plymouth, Massachusetts, who were able to settle the area because the former occupants, the Patuxet tribe, had been wiped out by disease. Amazingly, this interest Asher has is completely his—I didn’t choose these topics or books for him. Doubly amazingly is that both books about this time of American history do not give the American myth of the first Thanksgiving.

We’ve also been reading about Vikings, and how archaeologists and historians know what they know about them. Asher seems to have a budding interest in history.

We watched some “Avatar The Last Airbender,” a family autumn staple, and a movie called “Arthur and the Invisibles.” We have snuggled in, cooked and eaten meals together, gone to piano lessons and basketball practice, and the boys have started working on Christmas projects. Ian and I had a date night, Lucas did math homework, and I painted a bit and today I planted irises and tulip bulbs.

See what I mean? Too much in one post, and a full and wonderful week. We are thankful for so much love and abundance in our lives!

My sweet grandmother RoRo passed away on November 16. She experienced a slow and difficult decline over the last several months (or years, depending on how you look at it). I am relieved that she will no longer be confused, lonely, and uncomfortable, which she sometimes felt even amid her loving family and dedicated caregivers, as she always was. She died three hours shy of the third anniversary of her sister Nellie’s death. (This doesn’t mean anything; it’s just notable. RoRo and her sister lived together for the last 35 years of their lives, as well as during childhood.) This photo is from 2006. I think this is the best picture I ever took of her; this is how I will enjoy remembering her. Still robust, still active and walking, still full of jokes and mischief.

My grandma was a wonderful grandma. She was doting, kind, forgiving, and generous to a fault. When I was young, I quickly realized that she would give me almost anything I pointed at. When I matured, I realized that was no way for me to behave. I now feel that she should have said no to me and many others way more often than she did. RoRo loved giving gifts. I am so grateful for all the advantages she gave me, for her love and her faith in me. I think she often didn’t understand my choices, but she always loved me.

RoRo spoiled me. I’d be lying if I didn’t say that. I was her only granddaughter for almost 20 years, until my cousin Amy was born. RoRo wanted to dress me in pink, in lace, in elegant and preppy clothes. She took me shopping often when I was a kid and teen. She came to my high school plays. She bought me jewels, and a brand-new red Honda CRX when I graduated high school. She didn’t want me to go away to college; why go so far when there are colleges here in Sacramento?!? She didn’t really want me to be independent, self-directed, far away. But if I insisted upon going, well, she wanted me to have a good, reliable car to drive home as often as possible. While I was away, she gave me her credit card—in case I needed or wanted anything. She wrote me letters in beautiful spidery handwriting; they almost always included a check.

When I got married, RoRo came shopping for my wedding dress with me. She ended up buying my wedding gown for me, with veil, shoes, train, undergarments, etc. When I had my first baby she bought my baby’s crib, and so much more. When Ian and I bought our home, and I finally had some land for gardening, and I gained another thing in common with my grandmother. We used to talk about gardening and flowers. We use to go to the local nurseries together, to admire and to buy flowers for our yards. I don’t know how else to say it: RoRo showed her great love by giving gifts. Always. Until the end.

That is part of our story, however shallow it may seem. Eventually, I grew up enough to stop asking for gifts. Eventually, I learned that all I really needed was to spend time with her. It confused her when I didn’t want anything. I suppose I grew up; she maybe never understood that. Then, eventually, I grew up a little more; I realized she needed to give gifts.

I think she didn’t understand my parenting at times. She didn’t understand how I could let Lucas be in charge of his own hair. I think she maybe didn’t get Waldorf, or my no media rule, or my no-soda/little-sugar rules. She felt that children should be indulged, that life should be sweet. She loved my children deeply, and I tried to keep her up to date with their growth and shenanigans. She wanted cuddles, even when they didn’t want to cuddle her.

I will miss her very much now that RoRo is gone. But the truth is, I have been missing her for these last several years, while she became more confused and less like herself. She sometimes didn’t know who I was. She would have nightmares about being in charge of my children—they often were lost in the snow in her nightmares, and they needed rescuing. (I try not to worry about what kind of mom she thought I was, leaving my babies alone in the snow. Dreams are weird and I can’t think about that.)

This week has been tough. I thought I was prepared for her death, ready for it, resigned, mature, realistic—after all, she was 94. But it turns out I was not as prepared as I thought. It has hit me harder than I expected. I’ve been easily distracted and mopey. I have a difficult time concentrating right now.

At home, we have had a lot of good conversations as a family this week since her passing. My husband and sons have been very supportive, comforting me in many ways with my favorite foods, a marathon of “Avatar the Last Air Bender” shows, early-to-bed evenings, and, frankly, too much wine.

Asher is pragmatic about the whole thing.

“Are you still sad about grandma RoRo dying?” he asked me.
“Yes.”
“Well, it’s a good thing that her spirit is now free of the terrible sickness. I mean, now she can go into the world and see all the things we cannot see. … Like the insides of volcanoes.”

He is very wise for his 6 years.

Rose Anne Merkel

Anne Merkel, “RoRo” to family and friends, died Saturday after an extended illness. Anne was born to Otto and Josephine Mueller in 1919. She grew up in Sacramento with her three sisters, and graduated from San Juan High School. She was married to Gus Merkel until he passed away in 1962; they had two sons, William (Bill) and Michael (Mike).

With her sister, Nell Mueller, Anne owned the Hobby House (later the Graphic Hobby House) at the corner of Fulton and Marconi from 1957 until her retirement. Anne and Nell lived together for 35 years.

The most important things in Anne’s life were family and gardening, and shopping for both. She loved family gatherings, especially Thanksgiving and Christmas. She enjoyed giving gifts to her extended family, which included Bill’s wife Sydney, Mike’s wife Julie, four grandchildren (Sara, Jonathan, Kevin, and Amy) and two great grandchildren (Lucas and Asher) as well as nieces and nephews. Anne could guess anyone’s size and was seldom wrong. Being surrounded by friends, new and old, gave her great joy. Her home was a warm and welcoming place—the more, the merrier. Easter was a wonderful occasion to celebrate in her garden, where friends and family would hunt for eggs and baskets. Flowers, especially roses, were her favorites, and until recent years she was an avid gardener. She passed her love of showy flowers to her son and granddaughter.

Anne was clever and admired for her crafting, which she did for numerous charities. Anne was a member of the ARC Patrons’ Club. She and her “Diamond Ladies” made many craft items that were sold on campus and supported scholarships. Anne also made elaborate Halloween costumes that were worn by many children over many years. Anne doted on children and babies.

Well known as an elegant and gracious host and a generous person, Anne will be deeply missed by all who knew her. She is predeceased by her mother and father, husband, and sisters Dorothy, Mary, and Nell. The family would like to thank her caregivers for their efforts in making Anne’s final days more pleasant.

Yesterday was RoRo’s funeral service. Due to longstanding, bitter battles within my extended family, I was terribly anxious in the days leading up to it, and it was a long, stressful, sad day. Ian was a rock for me and I’m so grateful to him. Somehow it was very important for my children to look nice. RoRo was always elegant, always fastidious. Usually, our casual dress or scruffy hair was a disappointment to her. Normally I wouldn’t care about that stuff, especially with regard to my children’s clothes, but yesterday we dressed up. My boys wore ties, slacks, and dress shoes: a small gift to RoRo.

Dad and Uncle Mike bought so many beautiful flowers for her service. My emotions are raw and I don’t know how to say how much I loved her, except with these: Roses for my grandmother.

Farewell, RoRo. I will always love you.

Well, with store-bought costumes and some travel toiletry bottles we had a wonderful Halloween. My little Potion-Maker loved everything about making the potions he wanted to carry along with him as part of his costume. So instead of spending the afternoon sewing, we did this.

With four little clear bottles, some food dye, water, and one bottle of bubbles, Asher had a ton of fun. He even picked herbs from our garden to add into his potions, elixirs, philtres, and tonics.

He really got into the part.

“Would you like a sample, my dear?”

Lucas was an Assassin. With a plastic katana and an old Harry Potter robe, he was quite happy. I think the blooming adolescent in him may have been relieved that his costume was a little downplayed. (But it didn’t stop him from playing assassin, running, climbing, jumping, and slicing with his sword.) I suspect next year he will want to be something really scary or gruesome.

Watch out. Assassins are everywhere.

Because it was a half-day at school, we had a little time to carve jack-o’-lanterns on this beautiful autumn afternoon.

(Since Halloween, our chickens have enjoyed eating the remains of our jacks.)

I figured out a costume for myself too: I went as the Cemetery Fairy. I figure that if there are fairies of the woods, meadows, fields, and seashores, there must also be fairies that take care of cemeteries too. At first, Asher didn’t like seeing me in white makeup with dark circles under my eyes and pale blue lips. But after a moment of thought, he decided he wasn’t going to be upset about it. “Go ahead, Mama. It’s OK.” Lucas took this cool photo above for me.

We spent the rest of the evening at a party at our friends’ home. Lucas and Asher enjoyed seeing their school friends and trick-or-treating with them. The neighborhood was really decorated and all the neighbors seemed to enjoy the spooky fun. Many people answered their doors wearing costumes! Lots of trick-or-treaters were out roaming. There’s something really marvelous about being a kid outside at night, running wild. Kids don’t get to do that much nowadays, so I think Halloween is just what the witch doctor ordered.

My kids got a huge haul of candy, some of which they sacrificed to the Halloween Fairy, aka Candy Fairy or Sugar Sprite. She was generous, I tell ya! Both kids got LEGO sets.

I actually asked myself today, “where can I write about all these feelings I have to process them?”  Um … oh yeah! I have a blog.

It’s a full, exciting time and I am finding myself short on spare time. But, when I don’t write, I get kinda weird in the head, so I think it would be good for me to write more. This is a lesson I seem to have to relearn frequently.

I’m back in the saddle with the whole exercise-for-fitness journey, which is my conflicted little hamster wheel. (It had been a long time since I was exercising regularly and I won’t bore anyone with the reasons why.) For the last seven weeks I’ve been going two mornings a week to a workout with a group of moms from our school. I call us the Waves Women, though our group has no official name. One lovely, enthusiastic lady recently became a personal trainer and she offered to whip us into shape in an eight-week program. I caught wind of this group a little late, but joined up. We’ve been exercising in the mornings in the park right next to the Waldorf school. The workouts at first were a little hard for me, but they’ve become much easier. And while I kind of hated it at first, as I have come to know these women better, I really have come to enjoy the whole experience. Because they are awesome. They show up and bellyache and laugh and try and modify and encourage each other. It’s very real and wonderful. (Many thanks to Black Francis for taking the photo above and letting me publish it here.)

So, I would just like to say thank you to Meredith for giving her time and encouragement and energy, and thanks to all these super people for making this experience fun for me. Turns out I like working out with people I know!

I’ve also been doing a lot more walking and running lately. I’ve been walking with several friends semi-regularly and running a couple of times a week—but I had a cold for part of October and that slowed me down a bit. One day I walked 8 miles because I didn’t feel up to running, but walking was just right.

It’s hard to go wrong when you can get out to places like this within just a few minutes. So, anyway … fitness. My motto right now is “Do more.” We’ll see where that takes me, but I can tell that I’m in a better place for it.

This past weekend I acted as the officiant in the wedding of two dear friends. I was honored to be asked to do this work, and I am so happy for them. The whole thing was beautiful and I’m very pleased with how the ceremony turned out. Ian was the Best Man, and that meant that our boys were rather on their own for much of the day’s festivities. They were super good and I’m proud of them. There will probably be photos from the day floating about, but I confess I took none. I was too nervous before the ceremony to even think about getting out my camera or my phone.

Writing and performing this wedding ceremony has had me thinking a lot about love and commitment. About how two people can honor each other through time and changes and growth. How you continue to blend two lives in concert when people have differing needs and wants. I know that it takes work and patience and understanding. I know it takes open dialogue and discussion and that isn’t always pretty stuff. I know marriage includes a lot of unglamorous things that fall into the highly unsexy categories of “Daily Grind,” and “Working the Plan,” and “Roles.” I’m 18 years into my marriage and it’s frequently bewildering but always rewarding. It isn’t a fairytale, however, and no marriage can be—unless we’re talking about the kind of fairytale in which fingers get pricked and sacrifices are made and sometimes the woods are dark and scary.

Anyway, here’s what I know about love: It doesn’t fall from the sky or blossom at your feet without effort. You make it, and make it, and remake it, again and again, every day. You plant the seeds of love in a thousand little actions every day. What I don’t know about love and marriage is a lot longer than this paragraph, I’m sure.

And now, about Halloween. I am feeling like I blew it this year. But I also know I don’t need to feel that way. I know that in the past I’ve set the bar for our Halloween costumes pretty high, and this year—well, the wedding and my work ate up Halloween. We will still go trick-or-treating. We will still see friends and enjoy our spooky night. Our kids will end up wearing something. Lucas has taken point on his assassin costume. He’s relaxed about it, and not worried about it being fantastic. Asher is going as a potion maker, and we have found a couple of items at the thrift store and he’ll carry with him tiny bottles of colored potions. That’s all his idea and I don’t have to control it. Right? Right.

I love Halloween, and I will have other opportunities to go mad about it. Just not this year. And that’s OK.

So, maybe this post is about starting again, about continuing to try, about compromise and doing the good work, and about forgiveness. Maybe.

What could be better on a day off than a nature walk?

We are blessed to live just five minutes from the glorious and extensive American River Parkway. Although I grew up around here, I really didn’t use this local resource until I had children of my own. I revel in the opportunity to spend a few hours in the middle of what seems like nowhere— sometimes, on days like this, we can carve a glorious afternoon out of our busy schedules.

Out here, the sky is bluer, the dry grasses smell sweeter, the fallen acorns are plentiful, and the sunshine through the wild grapes vines and wild figs is like millions of stained-glass windows in gold and green, orange and red. The river runs swift most of the year, and right now the salmon are struggling upstream to spawn.

But on this day, we never made it to the actual river. We found a sleepy pond with cool, clear water and a sandy beach. Our hike fizzled here, in favor of staying and playing in water and on shore.

There was important leaping to do.

And flying.

You can see why we stayed, right? Even our little dog deigned to get his fancy paws wet and dirty.

He’s not much of a water dog, but we’ve seen him become braver over the last couple of years as we have taken him along with us on our family adventures in nature.

Lucas waded far out into the water to pick up this damaged dragonfly. After a few moments of resting in Lucas’s hand, it flew away despite missing half a wing.

The whole thing was utterly sublime—sparkles on the water and yogic reflections, warm sun, and a cool breeze in the shade—until my boys realized that this was an ideal place to play shoot-’em-up war games. And since my rules on such behavior are “No shooting/war in the house” and “No shooting/explosions/laser sound effects in the car,” I had to admit they were within bounds to play that game there. We moseyed on home not too long after they started that, however.

This is a great blue heron surveying his territory. He sat there on his perch like a king the whole time we enjoyed his pond.