Candlelight is favorite way to illuminate October evenings, and what says October more than jaunty, glowing pumpkin faces? These pumpkin globe lanterns can be made by children of all ages with your supervision. The process is simple and the materials are inexpensive. Why not create a jack-o-lantern that you can enjoy year after year?

Materials

• tissue paper in yellow and orange
• wax-coated strings in yellow or orange (brand names are Wikki Sticks and Bendaroos)
• globe glass candle holder
• mod podge and a paintbrush or foam applicator

Begin by gathering your materials. The first step in the project is optional. If you want your pumpkin globe lantern to have the iconic vertical rib lines of a real pumpkin, gently squish the end of a wax string to the top edge of the globe. Guide it down the side and squish the other end to the bottom of the globe. Repeat this for as many lines as you like, placing the wax stings equidistant to each other. You might want to omit one line that would naturally appear at the pumpkin’s face. These lines will be visible when the candle is lighted in the finished pumpkin.

Rip your yellow tissue paper into small pieces. You won’t need much. Now apply a small amount of mod podge to your glass and apply a small piece of yellow paper. This is your first eye. Smooth the paper with more mod podge and the applicator or paintbrush. Add a second eye, a nose, and a long mouth. The shapes of these pieces of tissue don’t matter all that much. Smooth them all down.

At this point, your face might not look much like a face. You’ll use your orange tissue paper to define your pumpkin’s features next. Rip your orange tissue paper into small pieces. (Alternatively, rip some small pieces and then rip some into strips about 6 inches long.)

Using your small pieces of orange tissue paper, apply them around your pumpkin’s eyes, nose, and mouth. Now is your opportunity to define your pumpkin globe lantern’s personality. Small children may prefer smiling, happy pumpkins. Older children might enjoy figuring out how to make theirs spooky. Does the pumpkin have squinty, frowning eyes or a snaggletoothed grin?

When your pumpkin is mostly découpaged with tissue, turn it over and cover the bottom of the glass globe. You’ll have to let it dry in this position, setting on its top rim.

If you wish to use long strips of paper, your in-progress pumpkin lantern will look like this photo above. You’ll add adjoining strips, working your way around until the whole globe is covered.

Now you have to wait patiently while the mod podge dries. Examine your pumpkin for any thin spots or places uncovered by tissue. Add or patch as needed. The more layers of paper you add, the better defined the pumpkin’s features will be.

Fill your pumpkin globe lantern with some rocks, gems, or sand, add a tea light or votive, and wait for nightfall to meet your pumpkin friend in all his glowing glory. It will happily share its light during chilly autumn nights.

It’s nice to have a friend in the darkness.

Once again, my dear husband tackled a huge dragon and completed the Tough Mudder in Patterson, California. He trained hard for it and had a great time. Somehow this was a kind of birthday celebration for him. I don’t know. He’s kind of weird. (That is a safety pin in his mouth, not a piercing. He was pinning his number onto his shirt when I snapped the photo above.)

Ian joined our friend Cherylyn and her family’s team, the Jog-or-Naughts. They were all in pink, and Ian gamely donned their color for the event. I was able to follow them from the start and to the first couple of obstacles.

We mistakenly thought it would be relatively flat terrain. Wrong. Tons of climbing through hot, dusty hills.

I soon lost track of Ian and the team because I couldn’t follow. I spent my time eating a hot dog, drinking a beer, and taking photos of hunky hot athletes. That was just fine. The mud spatters on my clothes were worth it. I got some terrific photos.

It was a very hot day, 95 degrees or more. I never really could check because I had no Internet connection. Unlike the previous Tough Mudder he did in Squaw Valley up on Tahoe, in Patterson the water/mud events were actually a little refreshing, and not freezing cold. I sat a very long time by this muddy pond to wait for my Mudders to swim and wade through here and to get this one close-up photo of Ian. I also got a stinky, muddy kiss for my troubles. After hours of waiting while my friends were miles away, climbing hills, slogging through mud, going over and under umpteen yucky, dangerous obstacles, I was very relieved to see them coming down the hill and entering this gross pond, hale and safe.

Here is the last obstacle, named “Electroshock Therapy.” Those are electrified wires hanging down and the Mudders have to run (or fall, slip, crawl, and slide) through them, getting shocks all the while. This was the second obstacle with electricity. Ian had already gotten shocked pretty bad, which he says felt like being kicked in the head.

All six of our Mudders completed the course. What I like about this event is the emphasis on camaraderie and helping one another through it. Our Jog-or-Naughts stuck together and everyone tackled the obstacles that were right for them.

Here is their celebratory beer, which I am told, never tasted so good. I am terribly impressed by all of them! Congratulations, Ian, Cherylyn, Kimberly, Cybil, Susan, and Nina!

Last Friday was our school Michaelmas festival and we really go all out at Sacramento Waldorf School. While the pageant take the same form each time, every year there is a new dragon to conquer. I think this is an interesting metaphor. Aren’t we always facing some new dragon or other, along with our familiar ones, of course.

The sixth grade class creates and then mans the dragon. This year’s beast was magnificent! Those kids and their teacher should be very proud.

The fifth graders, Lucas’s class, played the folk music (flutes and xylophones) while the village children (the third graders) did their folk dance.

Here is a shot of George kneeling and receiving the blessing of the Archangel Michael.

And then George must face the ferocious dragon, for it is threatening the villagers and the peace of the land.

This year’s “battle” was particularly dynamic with all that hot dragon breath.

Each class has a verse they say and I wish I knew them all but I certainly do not. This year I learned that the fifth grade verse is the one that suggests the plan for bringing the dragon under control.

“Keep your courage from shrinking!
This beast requires some thinking.
Let’s make a geometric plan;
Surround the creature, if we can.
With courage, strength, and balance,
We’ll make a strong alliance.”

The the older students surround the dragon and the youngest students (second graders) join them, wearing their knight tunics and with wood swords they have made. It is a powerful alliance, indeed.

After the dragon is tamed with communal commitment and cleverness, and not might, George manfully leads the dragon away from the town. He has done his job well.

This festival never fails to inspire me because of its message and the great effort the school and each class puts in to make it so wonderful. Each year I get something new out of it. I hope your Michaelmas was full of shining courage and deep meaning.

It’s been a crazy-busy weekend and our Michaelmas celebration at home was both postponed and rolled into a little birthday party for Ian. Change is the name of the game, and we adapted well to suite our circumstances. All day on Saturday, Ian and I were at Tough Mudder in Patterson, California. (He participated; I was support crew and spectator.) The boys were with their besties and the dog was with grandma. We spent Sunday preparing our home for the party …

… and making Dragon Bread. Here are my sweet bakers. This year we used a maple oatmeal bread recipe and I rolled in brown sugar and dried cherries, blueberries, and plums inside the dragon’s body. The boys wanted a sweet dragon. Next year, I might try a savory bread. We use a different recipe each year.

They like adding bits of dried apricots, cherries, and almonds on to the bread to make it fearsome.

Here it is still in progress. Lucas did the eyes and teeth. Of course, it got puffier during the second rise. We wanted a nice big dragon bread to share with our guests.

It’s a good thing we already had some decorations out. We cleaned to make everything just so. Poor Ian was a bit sore from the previous day, but we got our home presentable. Lucas did some homework.

We served “fillet of dragon” and the dragon bread. I baked a honey and vanilla yogurt birthday cake and made blackberry sauce to top it. One of the legends of St. Michael is that when he cast Lucifer out of heaven, the fallen angel landed in a blackberry bramble patch and spoiled all the berries for the year. So you should only eat blackberries before Michaelmas and not after.

Here’s our pretty table, with mismatched plates and napkins, and our homemade Michael’s sword napkin rings. Grandma Syd and Papa brought a gorgeous green salad to share. Grandpa Glen and Mimi brought a wonderful potato salad with tarragon and hard-boiled eggs. It was yummy. The fillet of dragon came out perfectly. (Thanks, Ian!)

Then we visited and shared stories about recent and not-so-recent trips to France and Amsterdam. We discussed the Tough Mudder event, the Michaelmas festival in Waldorf schools, the Bayeux Tapestry, and the Battle of Hastings, and art and other interesting things.

It was a warm, lovely gathering and we are grateful that we were able to share our Michaelmas celebration with extended family this year. I hope Ian didn’t mind too much sharing his family birthday celebration with Michaelmas. Sometimes the only thing that makes sense is to combine occasions, ya know?

Blessings of the Michaelmas season,

Blessings of adaptability and courage in the face of change and the coming darkness,

Blessings of abundance and a grateful harvest,

Blessings of strength and inner resolve to you and yours.

 (Art by Bernhard Hoetger, 1874–1949; photo by Jürgen Howaldt )

Michaelmas Song

Wind in the trees blows for summer’s last song,
Threshing the boughs, pelting the leaves along.
Sleepers awake, hark to the word of the wind!
Breaking old summer’s dull drowsy spell,
Show us the way,  go with thy spear before,
Forge us the future, thou Michael.

Frost of the ground at misty dawning shines bright,
Cracking the clod, lining the twigs with white.
Sleepers awake, hark to the word of the frost!
Breaking old summer’s dully drowsy spell,
Show us the way,  go with thy spear before,
Forge us the future, thou Michael.

Myriad stars shine in the frosty clear skies,
Outshining all, the meteor earthward flies,
Sleepers awake, hark to the word of the star!
Breaking old summer’s dully drowsy spell,
Show us the way,  go with thy spear before,
Forge us the future, thou Michael.

With hearts aglow men mark the changing fresh world,
When from the stars Michael’s spear is hurled.
Sleepers awake, hark to the word of the world!
Breaking old summer’s dully drowsy spell,
Show us the way,  go with thy spear before,
Forge us the future, thou Michael.

—A. C. Harwood

(Drawing by Lucas, age 10)

It’s that time of year again. Michaelmas time. Time for me to reflect a little on courage, on challenges, and on how we face them as the days grow shorter and the nights cooler. This is an election year, so a fair amount of courage is required to keep our heads up, our hearts strong, and our minds clear while we try to sort truth from fiction, lies, and mendacity.

I’ve lived in this Michaelmas mindset for several months now because my friend Eileen and I were writing a book on the topic. I thought I might have said everything I have to say on the subject of Michaelmas. I’ve flirted with metaphorical dragons while finding ways to creatively express the mood of the season and how to explore it with children. In the back of my mind, my real dragons have waited. In the forefront of my mind, they have called me out on the carpet more times than I care to admit.

If they can call me out, then it’s only fair that I call them out. Naming them has always been therapeutic for me.

Fear

“Who do you think you are?” Do you ever hear this in your mind late at night when the rest of your family is asleep? I do. Another thing I hear is “It will never work,” and “Everyone else does this better than you.” Honestly, I think we face our fears every single day, not just at Michaelmas time. We face fear of rejection, scorn, and exclusion whenever we live out loud and express ourselves, when we make art, when we love whom we love, when we parent in a way that is contrary to how we were raised, when we bravely head for a steady job we dislike, or when we sit down to figure out a problem. We face our fears when we say, “No, no farther,” or when we say, “Yes, you can count on me to help.” We stand up to fear especially when we speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves. That’s when we experience the courage of the Archangel Michael.

Boredom

This dragon interests me a lot because I ask myself, “How can you possibly be bored?” The truth is I’m not bored, but I do crave newness. I crave novel experiences and new projects, new people and new adventures. One of the benefits of the life I’ve created with my family is that it is comfortable and safe, happy and healthy. We have a good rhythm for our family and our children thrive in it. The Boredom Dragon would sit there and tell me I should be doing something else, presumably something more exciting. I have no desire to trade my happy life for anything, so I beat back this pest with small personal and professional challenges whenever I can, like trying to learn something altogether new or adopting a new hobby or making a new friend.

Ill Health

I’ve watched from various distances while several people I care about encountered some pretty serious ill health this year. Some are elders and their problems aren’t unexpected. Some are people in their prime of life, and I’m left thinking this is just not fair. There is a strange negotiation that goes into encountering illness and injury, a series of confrontations and compromises. I stand and witness without judgement. I admire the way they have faced their problems head-on, learning all the information they can, taking steps to mitigate symptoms and care for themselves and the people they love. I’ve watched as they reprioritize and embrace their new paradigms, while ditching those old patterns that no longer apply. It’s another kind of growing up.

Wanting and Lack

This dragon is a familiar companion and a master deceiver. It tells a tale that worms into the heart and I must ferret it out. We confront a significant challenge in our choice of private school education, and this dragon wakes up and rumbles at us at least once a month at bill-paying time. However, I have only to look around me and see abundant evidence that I am surrounded by love and beauty, friendship and plenty, opportunity and understanding. My life is blessed in a million ways and I know it, and so this dragon is ridiculous in its falsehood. The Lack Dragon is a seducer and a liar. There is enough. I am enough. I do not want for anything. And everything will be OK.

Loss and Death

This is almost too painful to write, but I and my friends and family have experienced all too much of this dragon this year. Our tribe lost two beloved souls this year, one elder and one tiny child. My mother lost her best friend. None of these stories are my stories and I don’t feel I have the right to tell them. I can only say I’ve cried many tears of heartbreak and loss. Many tears of helplessness and sympathy and wishing things were different. I’ve also watched our community gather to witness, to greet reality in the light of day, and to say farewell. We’ve sent our love into the ether and into each other’s hearts. We put one foot in front of the other, day after day, and we do not forget.

I have referred to this year as the Year of the Big and Scary—and for good reasons. Ultimately, all I can conclude from this year’s many lessons is that courage is born out of love. Darkness is best faced with our beloveds at our sides and at our backs. And, as I wrote in our book,

“Michaelmas is also a community celebration, in which we are reminded that we succeed when we work together to overcome hunger, want, and disease, and the less visible dangers of loneliness and fear. It is our chance to come together on the good, green earth and declare to one another: We are alive. We are together. Together we are strong. Together and with pure hearts, we can overcome.”

What a lovely weekend! It had just the right amount of “home” and “away” time, although our laundry piles might beg to differ. We hopped in the car on Saturday and drove up to the foothills to Apple Hill, where we enjoyed gorgeous scenery featuring vineyards, Christmas tree farms, and orchards full of apple trees laden with fruit.

We found a “you-pick” farm and picked apples for the first time.

Aren’t they pretty hanging on the tree?

Apple Song

The autumn lights are twinkling,
The evening breezes chill.
The ripening apples fall from trees
Upon the apple hill.

Ian had a bit of a height advantage over the rest of us. He was a good sport and carried our heavy bucket, too.

We picked 14 pounds of Fujis! Turns out we picked a few that weren’t quite ripe, but they should ripen nicely at home in a paper bag. I guess it’s a little early in the season.

We stopped at another farm that was having a little festival. We visited the farm animals.

And the kids had a great time in this hay maze. Asher was so fast I never captured a photo of him.

Then we went to a big market at Boa Vista orchards, which is a year-round ranch market. I bought some produce for the week.

At home, Lucas helped me gather clippings from our garden to make our annual Autumn Equinox Wreath. I have a tutorial here, if you’d like to try making one yourself.

Here’s our finished wreath. I think it turned out very nice. We don’t have much fall color here in Northern California yet. Our trees don’t change colors until mid- to late October, and the colors are best and brightest in late November. So, we make do.

Soon after we finished this, some dear friends came over and we feasted on an Equinox Apple Pizza of our own concoction. It featured apple slices, caramelized onions, pancetta, baby greens, chevre goat cheese, pecans, and for a light sauce, a drizzle of olive oil and a drizzle balsamic blue cheese walnut salad dressing. It was sublime!

So, now we have a bunch of apples to make into apple sauce, and I’m hoping some apple butter, too. I understand we can make it in the crock pot. We love kitchen science.

We hope your equinox was every bit as nice as ours. (Please leave a comment and tell me how you spent the first days of autumn!) Blessings of the season to you and your loved ones!

Alms in Autumn
Spindle-wood, spindle-wood, will you lend me, pray,
A little flaming lantern to guide me on my way?
The fairies all have vanished from the meadow and the glen,
And I would fain go seeking till I find them once again.
Lend me now a lantern that I may bear a light
To find the hidden pathway in the darkness of the night.
Ash-tree, ash-tree, throw me, if you please,
Throw me down a slender branch of russet-gold keys.
I fear the gates of Fairyland may all be shut so fast
That nothing but your magic keys will ever take me past.
I’ll tie them to my girdle, and as I go along
My heart will find a comfort in the tinkle of their song.
Holly-bush, holly-bush, help me in my task,
A pocketful of berries is all the alms I ask:
A pocketful of berries to thread in golden strands
(I would not go a-visiting with nothing in my hands).
So fine will be the rosy chains, so gay, so glossy bright,
They’ll set the realms of Fairyland all dancing with delight.

—Rose Fyleman

Today is the first day of autumn and I’m feeling happy and energized. The temperatures here in Northern California are still warm, but not dreadfully hot. The garden is looking weary, but still hasn’t given up—flowers bloom, seeds are forming and scattering, plants are looking thirsty. I spent a little time in my “bower” this morning. I have an old futon out in my backyard underneath a cleverly bowed tree covered in wisteria vines. The foliage combined makes a shady spot to sit and read, and I love it. I drank my coffee, and listened to the tiny sounds of just a few first leaves falling and the hens’ clucks and the rattle of their food container. I’m starting today slowly, even though there are a million things to do and a million more I want to do. But I am content. Slow, gentle starts are just right sometimes.

My garden, as I mentioned, is tired. I’m a little discouraged by it this year. We’ve had watering troubles that I’ve failed to solve. Along one of our drip lines is a long row of dead plants. I got some lovely tomatoes this year (cherries are my favorites), but little else. I’ve decided I’m not going another year without a raised bed. Our soil is just too clayey, and when the summer comes and the water is scarce, it becomes like concrete. Only the most determined vegetables produce. I had hopes for pumpkins and peppers and squash, yet I never mustered the energy to get them going. I tell myself that it’s OK because I can’t do everything. Right? And I do enough. Right?

Still, I’ve enjoyed the hummingbirds who visit my salvia and cannas, and the many other birds who visit my birth bath for drinks and bathing. It delights me to see a bird actually bathing in it.

Our hens are all healthy. Most of them are laying and the four young hens we raised from chicks this year are laying now. They’ve grown into very pretty young ladies. My special-needs chicken, Firefly, (in the photo) is finally completely rehabilitated. She spends her days on the ground now, like all the other hens. For more than a year she stayed on top of the chicken coop day and night because she was so bitterly harassed by the others. I don’t know how she finally integrated into the flock, but I’m glad she has. She is still the smallest hen we have, even smaller than our youngest hens from this season. She lays eggs though, so I feel she’s finally living a normal chicken life.

So I’m wishing all of you a happy, blessed autumn. We’re heading up to Apple Hill today for a small adventure and some apples. Seems like a great way to spend the first day of autumn.

I’ve been a bit quiet in this space lately. We’ve been adjusting to a new school year and working through some projects. I am delighted to announce that my dear friend Eileen Straiton (of Little Acorn Learning) and I have finished another big e-book. This one is our Autumn Equinox & Michaelmas Festival E-Book and I’d be honored if you’d check it out and spread the word a little. It was a pleasure to work with Eileen on this and I’m really proud of it. We have such a great rapport and similar values, and I think this comfort and compatibility reflects in our e-book. So here’s to healthy, joyful, creative collaboration!

Here is a little teaser: a mosaic of just some of the images from the projects and activities we offer in our e-book.

I don’t own this little treasure, Fletcher and the Falling Leaves, by Julia Rawlinson, but I will someday. This sweet book is one I discovered because I enjoy the illustrations of Tiphanie Beeke, who illustrated The Stars Will Still Shine, by Cynthia Rylant, a book I wrote about a while ago here.

Rawlinson has created a touching story of a little fox named Fletcher (Ferdie in the UK) who has a favorite tree. When the autumn weather comes and the tree begins to lose leaves, Fletcher becomes worried and tries to help his friend keep its leaves.

Each day, more and more leaves turn brown and flutter down to the ground.

This painting is marvelous, full of movement and emotion. This is rather what winter looks like to me, as we get no snow where we live. The autumn leaves hang onto the trees well into December until eventually the winds and the rains knock them off. Then everything becomes muted browns and soft greens and foggy grays.

Fletcher even tries to get the friendly birds to put the leaves back on the tree.

When all the leaves have fallen off, Fletcher feels that he has failed his friend.

The next morning he discovers his tree covered with silver icicles.  Winter has arrived and it’s breathtaking. “’You are more beautiful than ever,’ whispered Fletcher. ‘But are you all right?’
‘A tiny breeze shivered the branches, making a sound like laughter, and in the light of the rising sun, the sparkling branches nodded.’

Fletcher’s naive experience of the turning of the seasons is moving. He makes discoveries in nature with a childlike wonder that is ever so appealing. Paired with Beeke’s evocative illustrations, Rawlinson’s book is pure delight. I see that Rawlinson has written two other Fletcher stories as well: Fletcher and the Snowflake Christmas and Fletcher and the Springtime Blossoms. Both are also illustrated by Beeke.

My Winter Book Recommendations

In mid-November I went back to my painting class after a two month hiatus. I had to earn some dough before I could return to class. In the time that I was away from it, my stress levels soared, I got depressed, and things looked bleak. I’m not saying all of this was related to not painting—there was plenty of other stuff going on. But I remember thinking during all of that, I just want to paint. I yearned for it. I decided for the sake of my mental health that continuing my classes was good for me.

And it is. I’m now three more classes in and I’m still loving it. This is a series of three paintings of a copper kettle. The first was the black and white one above. We were instructed to use only Payne’s gray and white. The point of the study was to focus only on value and not on color. I have a lot to learn about this, but value is the relationship of dark and light. With the two paint colors I mixed a middle gray, then a light gray and a dark gray.

Modern Color Wheel from My Class

Goethe’s Color Wheel (for Fun and Because It’s Pretty)

After Thanksgiving we were given a new exercise: Paint the same subject in basically the same position on the same background using complementary colors, which are opposite on the color wheel. When mixed in equal proportions, they should create a neutral gray. I’ve learned that in painting “gray” is not so specific a shade as it is in my mind. There are lots of grays and, well, isn’t that wonderful?

This second study above was painted with a blue-green and a red-orange. All the colors you see were mixed from those two and then tinted with white to ultimately fill my palette with 15 different colors. My kettle wasn’t in the exact same position as in the first study, but the effect is the same. (I just noticed there is a diagonal shadow in the bottom right corner of these photos. That’s not in the painting; it’s in my window and the photographs.)

This one is last night’s study: same kettle, different exercise. The point of this study was to use three colors from the color wheel, a triad. (A color scheme in which three colors of equidistant distribution on the color wheel are used, e.g., red, blue, and yellow.) We could pick any three, so long as they had the right relationship to each other. I chose green, orange, and violet. I mixed and mixed these three colors and then tinted with white to get roughly 17 colors on my palette. Just doing this was awesome. I also had three goals in mind when I was painting this third kettle study: 1) paint a little faster, 2) paint thicker (use more paint), and 3) take more risks.

Now, this copper kettle isn’t exactly the thing I want to have a painting of in my home, much less three paintings. But this was a fascinating exercise and I’m so glad I did this. I have a much greater appreciation for color and mixing than ever before. Also, I no longer feel that every painting has to prove anything. The doing of it was the thing.