Michaelmas is coming! Our school will be celebrating Michaelmas with a festival on Friday, September 25. Ian and I are both planning to be there (with my camera). It’s an especially exciting year because Lucas is in the second grade, and the second graders get to play an important part!

At this time of year, the turning seasons remind us to slow down, come home, warm up, and consider. We are happier to look inward in the autumn and winter than we were during the summer months when we were busy living and doing. When we turn our attention in, we can see our own inner dragons waiting for us there. They deserve our attention again because they’ve been patient—even faithful—waiting for us to remember them. Our dragons are our fears, insecurities, failings, worries, and procrastinations.

Many years ago I started observing that life kind of went to hell around this time of year, near the Autumnal Equinox—that major upheavals happened, as though it were time to till life’s soil and bring up our mucky muck to air it out. Jobs change. Partners change. Challenges abound. We are forced to notice them, acknowledge them, and then deal with the issues, like it or not. It’s a tough time of year, it seems, for many people because old patterns of being and behaving stop serving us the way they did before.

Change and upheaval are the order of the season, it has always seemed to me. Facing our dragons, peering into the dark and letting our heart’s light shine forth is what gets us through it. So the Waldorf/Steiner story of Saint Michael and Saint George and the dragon fits just fine with my own outlook. Sometimes, all we really need to help us understand is a good metaphor to sink our teeth into.

In honor of Lucas’s special roll in facing down the dragon this year, we are making a big deal. Second graders (7- and 8-year-olds) are emotionally coming to terms with the fact that dragons do exist in our world, within humanity, and even within themselves. Things are not always good and well-intentioned and true. We must choose right or wrong. We must notice the dragons around us and within us and we must face them down. We must take up our swords and slay the dragons or tame them so that we make make this world a better place.

My musings about dragons led me on a dragon hunt here at home. This is what I found to inspire me.

Saint George and the Dragon, by Margaret Hodges.

This is a used, paperback book I bought when Lucas was 4-years-old. I waited a long time for him to be ready for it. I gave it to him this weekend, knowing that he is being told the story at school and that he is ready for it now.

Here is a detail from the battle. Trina Schart Hyman’s illustrations are very vibrant and evocative.

Illustration from Eric Carl's book, Dragons Dragons & Other Creatures That Never Were.

Dragon illustration in the Oxford Treasury of Classic Poems. It graces the page with Brian Patten's poem, "A Small Dragon." Facing it is Lewis Carroll's "Jabberwocky."

Then I hit the armor and art books to find these beautiful paintings to share.

Rover Van der Weyden, Saint George and the Dragon, c 1432 (Flemish), found in a book called Arms & Armor of the Medieval Knight, by David Edge & John Miles Paddock.

Raphael's St. George and the Dragon, c 1506, oil on panel, National Gallery of Art, Washington. This was in our book, The Great Masters, by Giorgio Vasari.

Hope you enjoyed our dragon hunt as much as I did. May you meet your own dragons head-on this season, with bravery and compassion.

Our autumn "nature table" on the piano, with a special Michaelmas theme in honor of Lucas being in second grade. The dragon painting above is from first grade.

This is the pumpkin I had to hunt for in the back of Safeway! Pumpkins aren't out yet in the stores. And I hear there may be a pumpkin shortage this year.

Old-timey Brachs caramels: I don't usually cook with these!

Organic CSA apples before the caramel dipping.

Caramel apples! Aren't they beautiful? Not bad for a first try.

My friend, Parnasus, brought yummy sides and appetizers, along with her family, our dear friends! Festivals are both easier and more fun with friends.

Feast: Beef and vegetable stew in a cooked pumpkin, chickpea and endive appetizer; green salad with apples, cherries, pecans, and goat cheese!

Samayam helped Asher with his decoupage candle holder.

The start of Lucas's craft project: Japanese maple leaf on a glass candle holder before glue and white tissue paper decoupage. They are still drying ...

Much thanks to Parnasus, Tara_bella, and Samayam for coming over with their children and helping us celebrate with good food and a special project!

Happy fall equinox, everyone! I hope you were able to enjoy the holiday, even though today felt every bit as much a summer day as yesterday.

Call me crazy, but I’m planning an equinox celebration with some dear friends for Tuesday night. I’ve been exchanging emails and making plans with another mommy who will help me bring this together. (She is amazingly creative and a culinary wiz—just exactly the kind of person you need when you’re up to your neck in deadlines and still think it’s a good idea to throw a party.)

It’s not uncommon for me to create a ceremony or holiday celebration at the last minute; I sometimes wake up in the morning and decide we must have a wonderful, wholesome, festival dinner that night, which involves a lot of crazy scrambling around, digging in cupboards and running to the grocery store. I’m a great one for vision, but not much for planning.

I’m feeling good that I’ve started two whole days ahead this time!

We’re thinking beef and pumpkin stew, served in a pumpkin, of course! Hearty greens and other harvest sides will grace our table. We’re planning a lovely craft for the children to enjoy. And my, oh, my! How do caramel apples sound to you?  Are you drooling yet?

I can belong now to myself

And shining spread my inner light

Into the dark of space and time.

Toward sleep is urging all creation,

But inmost soul must stay awake

And carry wakefully sun’s glowing

Into winter’s icy flowing.

—Rudolf Steiner (verse for the week of September 8–14)

I’ve been thinking a lot about abundance and its opposite: scarcity. With the economy in the doldrums, everywhere I turn I seem to hear bad news about scarcity and lack, falling this and that, rising costs, businesses disappearing.

I’m not an economics expert, but I am the owner of a six-year-old, sole-proprietor business. The depressing milieu has made its way into my mindset. I have been saving money. I have been snatching up as much juicy work as I think I can handle. It’s been alternately exhilarating and terrifying to have work piling up. In some ways, being busy makes me feel successful.

But being busy and being successful aren’t always the same.

Yesterday I was offered a tiny proofreading job from a publisher for whom I’ve worked in the past. I turned it down.

I turned it down! Real, live work. No, thank you!

This publisher is the one who tried to stiff me on a $1,400 three-book copyediting payment last summer. They took 96 days to pay me my small fee, and I had to get assertive and mean to get my check. Demanding my payment and sending them to collections was very difficult for me and I really don’t ever want to go through that again.

It’s rather astonishing and funny that they want me to work for them again in any capacity, since I so boldly insisted on being paid!

I told the AE who offered me the tiny job that I am booked through end of October and would be happy to consider future projects at my hourly rate of $X or my per-page rate of $Y. (“Happy” is an exaggeration here. I really don’t ever want to work for this company again anyway.) She kindly wrote me back, saying “… unfortunately, due to the current economic climate, we’re unable to meet those terms. If you would still like to be considered for projects, I can keep you on our list, but we have a fixed rate for our freelancers.”

To which I replied, “I do appreciate the consideration and it seems we have similar concerns. In the current economic climate, I cannot afford to work for less than I am worth. I have thirteen years of editing experience. Please contact me again when your rates come up.”

I’ll probably never hear from this publisher again, but I’m feeling good nonetheless. It was scary turning down a job. It was scary telling her the rate I would work for and that I wouldn’t take less.

Why is it scary? Because— what if I don’t have enough work?

This brings me back to the idea of scarcity. If I operate my business from a position of scarcity, taking any little scrap that comes along, won’t I always feel the lack and the struggle? If I take on loads of low-paying jobs, always saying yes, no matter how poorly they pay, money will still be scarce. And so will my time. And my patience and sanity, too.

I can always make more money. I can never make back my time.

I thought about the fee that was offered to me today and the time involved and realized that I would gladly PAY that amount of money for that many hours of uninterrupted, free, non-work time with my family. What’s the point of trading that time for that amount of cash?

So, how does one countermand or cancel out the prevailing societal mood? How does one recognize and welcome abundance instead of cowering in the face of scarcity, and acting only out of necessity instead of desire?

I can start by looking around me and being grateful for all I have. I do try to do this regularly, and it helps. Also, I can speak up for what I want, say out loud the kind of work I like doing, and even say I want more of it. Even if I’m the only one who hears these requests, that’s OK, because my own words can arm me in situations where I might be tempted to settle for less because of the dreaded what-ifs. I can recall myself saying these things and be inspired to act accordingly.

I want abundance: more opportunity, more money, more time, more love and learning and growth and relaxation. I want to work smarter, not more, and not for less! I want to do a great job for great clients who appreciate me. I want to live and work, not just work. I want, sometimes—every once in a while—to have fun. And I want to enjoy all the abundant blessings in my life, for they are so many, so fine, and so precious.

Just sayin’ it out loud.

My new project: first-ever sweater (for Asher). That little bit of green will be a front color block. Here’s a scrumptious shot of the yarn I’m using.

My weekend getaway with Ian was wonderful! It was so lovely to decompress and relax and play together. We used to do that sort of thing all the time, and I’m relieved to know now that it’s still possible. A small part of my mind had been wondering if we could still manage to have fun together.

We spent Saturday roaming State Street in Santa Barbara on foot. It’s such a beautiful town and I was kind of amazed at how little I recognized it. I guess when I left UCSB in 1992, I put Santa Barbara out of my mind. Upon reflection, I don’t think I gave the place enough of a chance back then. I was too busy falling in love with Ian and my new friends in Sacramento at the time. And feeling isolated, lonely, and homesick colored my experience of Santa Barbara significantly. Events in my first year at college sort of pushed me out of the thick of campus life; I became quite private and isolated, choosing to focus on studying hard and getting the hell out of there anytime an opportunity to see Ian came about, rather than participating in UCSB clubs or pursuing new friendships. I have some regret about that.

Anyway, let’s just say I saw the city with fresh eyes on this little trip. We wandered through shops, had yummy meals, including sushi and the most amazing fusilli pasta with chicken in creamy garlic sauce. We bought gifts for our kids and a couple of Christmas presents for family—the first of the season. We also spent a delicious hour or so sitting on the sunny beach and watching the sailboats bob in the harbor and the flocks of seagulls, pelicans, and others soaring overhead. We watched three young boys run at the birds’ resting place, and hundreds of birds startled into the air to get away from the boys.

I kind of wish I had taken my camera out on Saturday, but I left it in the hotel room. Instead of snapping shots, we just relaxed and walked, talked and wandered. Naturally, we talked about Lucas and Asher a little. We just couldn’t get them out of our heads completely, and Ian was really missing them since he had left town on Wednesday.

We even read our books, sitting together in companionable silence, hearing only the tiny click of my Kindle’s “page turning.”

On Sunday we had breakfast at reliable old IHOP, and hit the road. We stopped at Solvang, a quaint “Danish”-style town just north of Santa Barbara in the Santa Ynez Valley. I had never been there before, despite having driven past it many times. We did take a few pictures there, during our two-hour exploration.

We spent a good half-hour in the Village Spinning & Weaving shop in Solvang, talking with the proprietor about felting, weaving, looms, etc. I bought some goodies for myself, including some new wool roving and a super-long shuttle for my rug project. (I WILL finish it someday, and this new 28-inch shuttle will make it easier.)

We bought a fancy ceramic peeler and some yummy chocolates for my dad and mom, as a thank you gift for taking care of our boys for the weekend.

We marveled at all the wine bars and tasting rooms Solvang has and thought it would be great fun to return and spend the weekend there, walking from tasting room to tasting room—all on foot, which is how wine-tasting ought to be, I think!

And then we drove home … and drove, and drove, and drove. It was nice being together those seven hours, even if we were in the car all that time. We listened to music; I knitted. There is so much open land in California, and it’s beautiful.

By the time we got to Stockton, an hour from home, I was really ready to see my kids again. They gave us the WARMEST, MOST WONDERFUL WELCOME HOME. They showered us with hugs and kisses and wrestled us to the ground for more. It was awesome.

My conclusions are all good:

1. I’m fonder of my husband now than ever before, and know that the reason I get lonely and frustrated sometimes is simply because he is my dearest friend and I want him near me; sometimes I do not want to share him with my children.

2. My kids can handle our taking a weekend to ourselves. They had a terrific time with Grandma and Papa, complete with pizza, ice-cream, Fairytale Town, and Funderland rides. It’s a little stressful for them, but they can do it.

3. I’m fonder of my kids, too. I’m able to see Lucas and Asher anew, thanks to having the time to refresh myself and my marriage. They are fabulous children and I’m grateful to have them.

4. We are SO doing this again!

Many clever and passionate people have written about their feelings and thoughts on the anniversary of 9/11, about what happened on that awful September day in 2001. I don’t feel like sharing the impact that day had on my life and worldview, though it was profound and I will never forget those feelings of fear and grief. I do not wish to focus on that.

I would just like to share my small act of big faith.

On the evening of the anniversary of the terrorist attacks, I boarded a small domestic flight to Santa Barbara, having left my children in the loving arms of their grandparents, and flew through the air with my knitting and my Kindle to keep me company. It was a short, sweet flight, with no hiccups or security difficulties or excessive waiting. My stuff was x-rayed and I walked quietly through the metal detector. Nobody asked me any questions about my bags; I didn’t check any.

It wasn’t until the next day, when I was rummaging through my purse, that I realized I had accidentally smuggled a pocket knife aboard the airplane. It was in my purse, as usual, because a pocket knife is a useful tool to have. But I didn’t remember I had it and nobody noticed it, not even the technician manning the x-ray.

I don’t know how to feel about this, except to be somewhat amazed at how life is always in a state of entropy, even after a massive, shattering upset. Things go back to normal, despite our personal transformations.

We drop our vigilance. We continue with our plans, despite the alarms. We carry on.

There dims in damp autumnal air

The senses’ luring magic;

The light’s revealing radiance

Is dulled by hazy veils of mist.

In distances around me I can see

The autumn’s winter sleep;

The summer’s life has yielded

Itself into my keeping.

—Rudolf Steiner (verse for the week of September 8–14)

It’s been a busy, busy week full of adjustments for everyone. Lucas went back to school on Tuesday. There was much rejoicing by his proud parents. He looked ready,  brave, and determined.

Lucas and Asher on the first day of school.

Honestly, I’m so excited for him. This year is going to be wonderful, full of friends, new confidence, Saints and fables to inspire us, as well as dragons to conquer.

Right before entering the second-grade classroom.

We have had some struggles this week. Daddy had to go out of town for a conference on Wednesday morning, and we are emotionally at sea without our anchor. We are used to our days without Daddy, but when evening sneaks in we all look around at each other and miss him terribly. Asher has had a much harder than usual time at Ring-A-Rosies preschool and had to be picked up early two days. He is adjusting to Lucas being gone at school and Daddy not coming home at night, and he’s quite sure the scenario stinks. “I miss my daddy. I want my brother!”

As if to emphasize that change is in the air, Lucas’s top right incisor leaned sooooooo far out of his mouth that Lucas couldn’t help himself; he simply pried it out. And so, my 7-and-1/4-year-old son now has a giant window in his smile, and an adult tooth moving in fast.

See how delighted he is?

Look at the size of that gap!

As you can see, he is quite thrilled about the change and told me all about how he pushed the tooth back until it just popped out “… and there was this dangly gut thingy hanging there!”

We got to use the Tooth Fairy Pillow I made him for the third time, and this morning a $2 bill was sticking out of the pocket.

We all have big plans for the weekend: I’m flying down to Santa Barbara tonight for my first vacation alone with my husband in three years. I went to college in Santa Barbara for two years, and I haven’t been there since 1992. Ian and I courted there, so I’m thinking of this trip as a little honeymoon that we desperately need.

The boys will be going to my parents’ house, who will undoubtedly spoil them and feed them ice-cream sandwiches and sausages and pizza and all their favorite things. I can tell Lucas and Asher are anxious (as evidenced by the tantrums and invented neck aches and “too warm” foreheads), and possibly this isn’t the best weekend for me to leave them, after such an eventful week. And I’m tempted to feel tremendously guilty about it.

Nevertheless, I’m carrying on in the belief that a happy, rested mama, who has had the chance to have fun, reconnect with her husband, and recharge her marriage, will be a better mother for them in the long run.

And they will be fine.

On the trails along the American River, a tiny lizard crossed our path and crawled right up Lucas’s body and under his shirt.

Four kids with screw drivers and a burning curiosity dismantled out broken VCR … for SCIENCE!