These are photos leading up to Asher’s birthday party. It was his very first party with friends. He asked for a “Jungle Dragon theme,” after I offered him a choice of “jungle theme” or “dragon theme.” Well, how can you refuse a kid so cute, when he’s so clear about what he wants? I have to admit, Jungle Dragon kind of threw me off for a while. It took a long time to wrap my mind around what we were going to do, and I’ll tell ya, the party stores and dollar stores were no help at all in the theme department.

We had some birthday bunting I sewed last year to use for decorations. Otherwise, we had to get creative. Ultimately, I decided to let the children be the dragons; we just had to create their jungle.

Lucas and I used nearly all of my green file folders to cut out giant and little jungle leaves. We had a light green cardstock on hand, too, so that became leaves as well.

Those Christmas lights are almost always up, so we hung jungle leaves on the wires, and used green crepe paper to create jungle vines with leaves.

Our dear friend Headra offered to stay over and help us get ready for the party. She was awesome and helped with everything from errand running to decorations. Thank you, Headra! With Ian and Headra both working, I was able to focus on the cake, but more about that below.

Lucas did a marvelous job of drawing dragons on all the goodie bags for our wee dragon guests. I purchased little Aladdin-style dress-up slippers, bubbles, and these Mardi Gras (dragon!) masks for Asher’s friends to take home. Four-year-olds love to dress up.

This is the jungle (like fruits, get it?) decoration above the kitchen table, where the children ate jungle pizza and veggies for lunch.

From play silks, I rigged up dragon wings and tail for Asher, and offered play silks to each kid, in case she or he wanted to be a dragon. Two did, two didn’t.

Asher enjoyed his dragon costume before the party started, which was great because he played dragon while we worked on the last minute touches. The costume came off partway through the party.

Ian brought out our Cryolan face paints and painted some dragon tattoos on Lucas and Asher. This was the last thing the three of them did before the guests started arriving, and it was kind of wonderful to see them sit down together to do this quiet activity before all the people came. (Ian, my love, thank you for this little moment you created—all the cleaning and everything!)

We baked chocolate cupcakes and set out three colors of frosting and a bunch of different sprinkles for the children to decorate their cupcakes. It took a little while for them to realize they could put that gloopy, sugary stuff on themselves, but eventually a couple of them started and the rest followed. Asher kept saying, “Mama, you make me a rainbow one.” Once the other kids were decorating their cupcakes, Asher deigned to frost his own. We stuck four candles in Asher’s cupcake and sang “Happy Birthday” to him. The little rascal blew out his candles before we got to the end of the song!

Here’s S Dragon and Asher Dragon. Aren’t they mighty?

Mostly the kiddos wanted to run about and play. So the other activity I had planned (or rather, held in reserve) wasn’t needed after all. Sitting at the table through lunch was hard enough for the children. They needed a run-about break in between lunch and cupcakes, even. So the playdough dragons we were going to make would have meant too, too much sitting.

After the kid party wrapped up, I was free to finish the dragon cake for that night’s family party. We had the grandparents, aunt, and uncles over for dinner and cake. Asher wanted a blue dragon, so that’s what he got!

I’m really happy with how this cake turned out. I used a bunt pan to bake a ring of chocolate cake, then cut it in half to make the S. I also used the leftover cupcake batter to bake an extra square cake, which I cut into sections to create legs, head, and tail. I used candy from the per-pound bins at the supermarket to decorate. The back ridge and the wings are fruit roll-ups (fruit leather made from almost no fruit). Again, special thanks go to Headra for finding several other awesome fruit roll-up products that didn’t have writing embedded in the candy, as the first ones I bought had.

Asher was thrilled to have his school friends over at his house. He enjoyed telling us he was the Birthday Boy. The most amazing thing about this day was how Asher handled it all. I was sure we would see at least one meltdown. It never happened. He was basically cheerful and good-natured the whole time. He accepted the attention he received joyfully. He was a good friend to his buddies and pretty gracious to his family members. We were so very proud of him … we even gave him the dragon’s head to eat!

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.

We held a small ceremony last night to celebrate Imbolc, or Candlemas. It was just the four of us and it was perfect, I think. In my research, Imbolc and Candlemas led me to Saint Brigid, who led me to Brigid, the Celtic triple goddess, who whispered in my ear how very alike she is to Hestia, the Greek goddess of hearth and home. Now, Hestia and I go way back, and at that moment I was instantly comfortable, on familiar turf,  “at home.” I can work with this!

When I create a ceremony or celebration, I have this little tendency to go overboard. When the intention is to celebrate with my small children, I have learned that the key  is to keep it simple. I usually let my imagination run wild for a while, come up with lots of complicated and meaningful ideas, and then I consciously scale it back, make it shorter, and let the symbols speak for themselves.

After dinner, we sat by the fire on our sheepskin rug. I had purchased a 3-inch beeswax pillar candle and we softened some modeling beeswax in warm water. We each fashioned a design or symbol to attach to our “FamilyCandle.” As we did so, I shared a poem about Candlemas Day.

“If Candlemas Day be fair and bright, Winter will take another flight. If Candlemas Day be cloud and rain, Winter is gone and will not come again.”

Then this, which I wrote:

“Round the hearth, with our fire burning bright, we speak from our hearts. With kind words we kindle our hearts’ light.”

We then talked about Imbolc being the midpoint of winter and that after that night, we’d be moving toward the spring. We talked about family and home.

The boys mostly played with the colorful wax and stuck chunks of it on our Family Candle. Asher called his chunk of blue the “rainbow bridge.” Daddy made a beautiful interlocking rings design, with four rings representing the four of us. I made a star with a rainbow and a little blazing fire (because stars and fires mean winter to me, and a rainbow gives me hope for the spring).

Here is our Family Candle in this morning’s light.

Here you can see the boys’ additions to it.

While we modeled our beeswax and added it to our candle, we thought of with words that mean “family” and “home” to us, things we associate with our home and being a family together. We wrote these words in crayon on a watercolor painting I made earlier in the day. Lucas wrote words for himself. Not to be outdone by his older brother, Asher followed suit, with his own version of writing.

Here is our family artwork hanging above our kitchen table. Love, peace, joy, family, us, tribe, prosperity, health, warmth, luck(e), respect, happiness, hope, laughter, help, rest, safety, boys, hearth—and contributions from Asher, such as “squirrel family in the snow!”

Especially for 4-year-old Asher, we did a small motion play from A Child’s Seasonal Treasury by Betty Jones called Groundhog Day.

Bears hug in their caves so snug.    (Hug self with eyes closed; smile.)

Squirrels are restless in their hollow tree.    (Make a hole with one hand, wiggle fingers of other hand through hole.)

Fox family yawns and stretches in their lair.    (Yawn and stretch limbs.)

Groundhog pokes his head from the ground.    (Make large ring with arms and poke head through.)

Whiffs and sniffs and looks around.    (Sniff, look around through hole.)

Will or won’t his shadow be found?     (Nod “yes,” then “no,” shrug shoulders.)

If it is, we all will know     (Nod “yes” and rise to squat position.)

Spring is getting ready to go!     (Spring up in place with outstretched limbs.)

Finally, while we all held our decorated Family Candle together, we finished with this verse by Marsha Johnson.

Bless this candle in our hands.

Bless this flame as here we stand.

Bless the faces ’round this light.

Bless all people on this night.

We’ll be burning this Family Candle during dinner and on weekends when we are home for the rest of winter.

(Last year’s candles)

Today is Imbolc, or Candlemas, if you prefer. Some call it Oimelc; some call it the Feast of Saint Brigid. In the U.S. it’s most commonly called Groundhog Day. Today marks the halfway point between the Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox. Today it’s a good day to divine the weather, a la Punxsutawney Phil, but this little fellow isn’t the first, by far, to do so.

“If Candlemas Day be fair and bright, Winter will take another flight. If Candlemas Day be cloud and rain, Winter is gone and will not come again.”

Today is a great day to make or buy candles. Gather all of your candle stubs and bits and pieces and melt them down to make new candles by dipping or pouring into special candle molds. Winter has a good six weeks left to blow in most places in the Northern Hemisphere and that’s plenty of dark nights to light up.

(Photo from candle dipping at Sacramento Waldorf School last fall)

I have a small candle-oriented celebration planned for our family for tonight. Last year’s was simple, too. We’re going be decorating a “family candle” tonight, if I can get everyone to cooperate. I have in mind a beeswax candle decorated with more (colored) beeswax, with each of us adding pieces to it so that it becomes a representation of our family, our home, and our hopes. It’s my intention that we’ll keep lighting this family candle throughout the rest of the winter.

(Colorful beeswax bits like these can be molded by hand to make shapes, people, and other decorations, and will stick onto the side of a candle.)

In doing a bit of research, I’ve come to understand there’s a significant parallel between Brigid and Hestia, which infuses even more meaning for me into this winter festival. In the dark of winter, and even halfway through it, we must tend to our hearth fires and keep the lamps lighted. We must live, together, in close proximity and in peace as much as we are able. We need such unifying rituals to hold us and keep us safe together.

Today is a great day for a purge or cleaning—of things, of negative feelings, of anything that is needing letting go. Today is a great day to stoke your own inner light, so you may keep it burning brightly as we march toward Spring.

Here are two lovely discussions of this holiday. I hope you enjoy them.

Celebrating the Wheel: Oimelc Overview

Little Acorn Learning: Celebrating Candlemas (with Guest Blogger Marsha Johnson)

Dear Asher,

You are 4! Of course I am amazed by this, but also excited, for every day I see the world opening up more and more to you. You are becoming your own little master and you are a mighty force of a boy!

So much has happened since your last birthday. You’ve traveled so far. No longer do you want to be called “Baby Asher,” or “my baby.” You are a Big Boy now, except when you’re feeling small or a little challenged, and then you quietly tell me you are a Little Boy. This doesn’t happen often, however. You boldly march into almost all situations with your head held high and a battle cry on your lips. You are ready for nearly anything, nearly anytime. You are your brother’s powerful sidekick—what superhero would that be? Surely you are more competent than Robin.

In the last year you have continued to perfect your language skills. Now you talk constantly, giving us precious insight into your blossoming personality and miraculous imagination. You are a man of adventure, at least in your own private world, which you call Dreamland. There, anything is possible for you. There, you are all-powerful. Thanks to your daring-do, monsters are vanquished. Maidens are saved. Ninjas are defeated. Bad Guys quickly are made to regret their poor life choices. You tell us all about it. We in your family try to keep up, but we’ve learned that Dreamland is a fluid place, where continents shift and volcanoes erupt. Rules are very different there, and yet you have set yourself up with seven moms and seven dads. I suspect this is so that you can take on the most perilous missions and still feel you are being supervised, besides, in Dreamland you get to boss them all around. I should say, Dreamland stories can last for ten minutes or more, nonstop. I know that in Dreamland, candy dinners are often served.

Not only are your storytelling muscles being exercised daily, but also your sense of humor is blooming, too. You get jokes and often laugh uproariously. You tell jokes, too, sometimes playing on words and often making a point of saying something controversial, like “butt” or “poo poo head.” You smile and laugh easily. The world seems to hold so much enjoyment for you, and I hope this will be true for you your whole life!

You are perfecting numerous methods by which you can get your brother’s goat. And although I wish it were otherwise, your bickering is in full force now. I don’t like it when you two fight, but it seems to be an unstoppable part living with a brother. I think it means that you are starting to hold your own in this household. Lucas isn’t always the ring leader and you are not always the follower, as it might at first seem. You start disagreements and pick on him, just as he does you. I merely have to turn my head a moment to discover the two of you, clutching sticks and whacking each other for all you’re worth.

In all of your daily activities, you are showing marvelous growth. You are physically strong and growing tall. You used to be such a picky eater, preferring meat always. Your repertoire of vegetables you eat is expanding all the time, and I must admit I’m happy to see it. Now you enjoy raw carrots (while playing bunny), bread and butter pickles, apples, pears, kiwi fruits, celery, broccoli, green beans, lettuce, spinach, and potatoes. You’re not thrilled about it, but you will choke down a small portion of greens or cabbage, especially if doing so gets you an after-dinner cookie. And this is enough for now. I’m not at all worried about your eating habits. We just have to make sure to continue to offer you healthy fruits and veggies every day and you will do the rest. In any case, you are not a meek child who waits to be noticed. When you are hungry or thirsty, you’re very clear about it. You make your needs and your preferences known. We’re working on getting you to use better manners about it.

Your sleeping patterns are changing now, which is something I remember from when Lucas was your age. You had become quite accustomed to sleeping alone in your bed. Then last winter we moved your brother into your bedroom and now you have to share. Lucas gets the top bunk and you get the bottom, which is dark and cozy and soft. At first, the excitement of sharing a room was overwhelming and you both elected to sleep together, usually in Lucas’s bed once we determined you wouldn’t fall out. Gradually, though, Lucas wished for more space of his own (and discovered what a little furnace you are when you’re sleeping). Getting used to sleeping without Lucas in bed with you has been hard. Now that you are nearly 4, you have bad dreams pretty often, or have to go potty in the night, and you wake up. Lately you’ve been joining Mama and Daddy in bed at 4 a.m. or 2 a.m. This is hard on Daddy. You have a tendency to bicycle your legs to get the covers off, and in the process you kick people. (Maybe this is why Lucas doesn’t want you sleeping with him anymore.) We’re working through it. We don’t really want to tell you no right now, as you’re kind of afraid of the dark and don’t like being alone. And so, we cope.

You now like to do all kinds of things by yourself, like dressing in your outer coat and putting on your slip-on galoshes. One day recently you were so adamant that you didn’t need any help at all, and yet your jacket sleeves were both inside out. You worked on putting on that coat for 15 minutes solid—and as you struggled you got more and more angry that it wasn’t working! You knew how to put it on; it had worked for you so many times before! Why not now? Tears were flowing and I finally was able to sneak in there and help you turn the sleeves right-side out. You got the jacket on, but you were livid that I had dared to interfere! You bawled me out for an hour after that.

You’re doing great in the potty now; six months ago was a very different time. You’re completely out of diapers and only sometimes have nighttime accidents. Most of the time, you manage everything by yourself now, unless you feel like having company along.

Oh my, how you play! Your imagination is off the charts. You switch between being a dragon, a rabbit, an astronaut, and a ninja in mere seconds, if you wish. Or you let one idea take hold and carry you all through the day. I frequently play the supporting role of mama rabbit, mama dragon, mama chicken, etc. I’m used to being just outside your spotlight. Daddy gets to be the daddy fill-in-the-blank, too. We make marvelous families of fluffy duckmouseratdragonrabbitchickencows and birds. Sometimes you enjoy using play silks as your costumes; they often help you transform yourself. They aren’t necessary, though, which is wonderful. Sometimes, a throw blanket over the top of you sees you sufficiently snug inside your egg for a quick and exciting hatching. We never know what critter will emerge from the egg!

When you’re playing with Lucas, you’re usually something more martial than a sweet woodland creature. You’re dragons together, or knights, ninjas or airplane pilots. Often this ends in kung fu or magic battles in which one of you gets hurt. Even when you don’t get physically hurt, you sometimes perceive each magic spell as a great wound; it’s all so real to you it makes you cry when Lucas says something along the lines of, “Your spell just bounced of my ricochet force field and it slammed back into you and now you have no arms!” Oh catastrophe! Oh tears! Bellows of “Stop it!” and “Leave me alone!” are commonly heard around our home. The impulse to wrestle and fight and knock against each other is so powerful in you both as brothers. It drives your father and me to distraction.

You do play nicely with Lucas now, too. When both of you play cooperatively, it’s wonderful. You laugh and tell jokes to each other. You cooperate in saving the world as superheroes. You rescue Princess Mommy when she’s in distress. You care for animals in an animal hospital. You search for wild dragons in the backyard, and tame them with your magic, secret languages, and animal training skills.

Asher, you are something of a hoarder still. Since you were little you’ve always enjoyed piling up your belongings into a great heap. You don’t like anyone to touch these items, or try to put them away into their proper places. These collections are your “work,” or your “store,” or your “tools.” Any item whatsoever becomes a tool of some kind, and it’s all the better if you can find some ribbon or piece of yarn to tie multiple toys together into a Frankentoy, with unique and useful properties.

One of my very favorite things about you is that you love music and you LOVE to dance. You seem to have some natural talent, quickly learning songs that Lucas has learned at school and hummed once or twice at home. In fact, you seem to pick up on any tune really fast. When you hear a new song you like, your face lights up and you ask urgently, “Who’s that? What’s this music called?” If you really, really like it, you ask for that music after dinner, when we are cleaning the table and doing dishes. This is, traditionally, our After-Dinner Disco time. Anyone with a yen to hear anything in particular can request songs at this point, and you often pipe up with just the thing. You like music that’s upbeat, fast, and joyful. You like fight songs and rock ‘n’ roll. You like to bang your head, which puts a sparkle in your Daddy’s eye. You have some wicked-cool moves, too; you’re serious about your dancing and you try out new tricks all the time, but in a purposeful and repeating way—not just randomly. I don’t know how to explain it, except to say my heart swells every time you get your groove on.

Preschool has been a wonderful experience for you this year. You changed preschools in September, right after we came home from Burning Man. Now you attend Starbright Garden Preschool and Miss Pati is your teacher. She is warm and grounded, and I think she makes you and all the other children there feel safe and comfortable. Her home is delightful and full of magical playthings and her garden has many nooks and crannies for you and your buddies to play in. Your two dearest friends came with you to Starbright Garden, and they continue to be close to you. (One of them, Noah, is teaching you about Michael Jackson and Taylor Swift music!) You’re also making new friends left and right, and since there are thirteen children at the school, you’re learning to operate in a bigger pond, so to speak. You’re very fond of Sophie, whom you plan to marry (right after you marry me and Daddy). She’s a great kid, so we’re pretty okay with that decision.

I guess I should sum up now by saying you are growing into such a clever and precocious boy. You’re a joy, and when you’re not it’s only because you’re flexing your independence or trying to work the system—necessary stages and skills worth practicing. You are formidable, as I said before. I’m honored to know you, my little one. Your father and I love you so much! You make us proud every day. You make me want to hold you up to the sun and shout my amazement and wonder to all the sky gods and all the earth goddesses everywhere:

Look at this boy! Look at my son! He is a miracle!

Happy birthday, Asher, my love. Blessed be.

Love,
Mama

Long about this time of year, I go seeking colors. Our gray skies and foggy mornings get old, after a while, and we don’t have any snow to brighten up the landscape. I’m not really complaining, though. I love living here in California. Here are some of winter’s colors I found in my yard or in my neighborhood.

This flowering quince is a harbinger of the spring to come. It’s coral blooms are inspiring me this year.

Redwoods have a comforting feel about them, I think. They seem to say, “Patience, Child. All will be well.”

See the stars? I don’t know the name of these berries, but they’re found on a bush similar to photinia, only with leaves of a darker green. Holler if you know what it is.

This brave trumpet is a hummingbird attractor. It’s kind of limping along in my front yard, where the soil is none too good.

I would absolutely call these fringe flower bushes one of the best landscaping buys I’ve ever made. They are powerhouse bloomers.

Heavenly bamboo. Showstoppers, plain and simple.

When I have said my evening prayer,
And my clothes are folded on the chair,
And mother switches off the light,
I’ll still be three years old tonight.

But, from the very break of day,
Before the children rise and play,
Before the greenness turns to gold,
Tomorrow, I’ll be four years old.

Four kisses when I wake,
Four candles on my cake.

We had several glorious, sparkly days in a row last week. (I love California!) For me they culminated in this perfect walk we took last Saturday. Ian, the boys, and I visited a small section of the American River Parkway called the San Juan Rapids trail.

It’s a great, short walk (for little legs), which are compelled to follow brother wherever he may roam.

Even out on a limb, so to speak.

This photo was taken from the top of Crystal Mountain, a giant hill of rocks left over from the days of industrial gold mining. This trail is familiar to Lucas because it’s right near his Waldorf school and he hikes here with his class often—this is good because he gets to be the authority on the area. He likes that very much.

If all goes well, it won’t be too long before Asher is hiking here with his Kindergarten class, hoping to find quartz crystals of his own.

May I present my almost-4-year-old? Isn’t he mighty?

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.

Today is one of those glorious pea-soup foggy days. I told Asher that some cloud up in the sky was curious about people, and came down to visit. “Look, mama, I can’t see the school!”

I have 35 minutes to myself to get my heart pounding and revel in the quiet. Normally I would hear many birds singing and squirrels barking whenever I passed too closely to their trees. Not today. In the hush of the low-lying mist, even the birds seem to whisper, as though they’re in church.

Perhaps the hundreds of squirrels are all still abed, sleeping in. Perhaps today is a day of rest, even though it’s not marked as such on my calendar. Spiderwebs on hedges are so wet with dew, they are sagging.

I pass a neighbor’s yard. Tiny droplets of water sparkle at the end of pine needle sprays. The closest trees are black against the fog, distant ones are erased in mist. The trees are laid bare, arthritic bones are revealed. And yet, they look lacy against the gray-white sky, as though they’ve put on crocheted gloves over their bony fingertips. Some still sport seed pods or random leaves that forgot to fall. Some are already swelling with buds, as if to proclaim to King Winter, “I am not finished! You will not conquer me.”

No dogs bark at me, even at the home where five of them jealously guard their little patch of Fair Oaks. Their fence sign boasts, “I can make it to the gate in 3 minutes. Can you?” I assume they’re all vying for space near the heating vents and fireside indoors.

I walk down a long straight hill, noticing the deep green of a redwood, the rosy blush of a heavenly bamboo bush. Tiny signs of the coming spring are revealed a bit here, a bit there. I have to look closely for them, and they make me smile. There’s a flowering quince! It’s coral buds are getting fat. Some early blooms are opening nearest the base of the twigs, and they’ll bloom upward like that in a kind of wave. I spy rosemary bushes covered in lavender blossoms. But they’re lonely. No bees serenade them yet. One front yard is graced with a thick ruffle of petite, buttery jonquils.

I notice the squish of my feet as I pass some yards, where the messy autumn leaves are being left to rot. Leaf litter is ground into black muck on the pavement. Some leaves are disintegrating into doilies.

A small flock of Canada geese flies low, making two passes and honking. They are clownish phantoms except when directly overhead. Their monochrome blends into the sky.

I trudge up the hill and come close enough that the garish green fence finally reveals itself. It blinks out of the fog as if someone just turned on the electricity. It is the greenest fence I have ever seen. It is, frankly, impossibly green, and moreover, frankly, I adore it. If it had only stayed plain, showing its natural wood tones, it could have graced a traditional Japanese garden. Happily, its goofy coloring is nowhere near so demure. Happily, it shouts hello to me into the quiet morning.

I round the corner, passing the empty playground. Sometimes little ones with parents are here playing. Not today. Even the beehive in the base of the tree is quiet, seemingly deserted. I hope the bees are inside keeping warm.

There’s something rather Victorian about my neighborhood today. Somehow the fog lends these familiar sights a romance, a mystery. I imagine cobblestones and hoop skirts, and the watery glow of London streetlamps. Where is that piper when I need him?

Houses are storytellers, if you bother to notice the tales they share. Some are old-old, falling mournfully into disrepair or melting into their overgrown yards. Some tell you they are rentals; they seem to say they aren’t one-family homes, but rather they entertain a series of lonely guests year after year. Some homes are elderly men and women, who quite clearly and purposefully look after their health. They take their vitamins and their fiber. They are kept up, wearing nice clothes and dapper roofs. Their neatly trimmed trees and bushes tell you they see the manicurist regularly. Few homes around here are new; they glow with youth like the fresh-faced teens of the neighborhood. Some proudly sport both laugh lines and boob jobs at the same time. These have shiny SUVs in their driveways.

It’s all kind of magical. It’s all ordinary. And since I alone am here to witness it, it’s all mine.