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

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

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

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

4. wine is wonderful

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

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

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

8. beware of modeling beeswax in the laundry

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

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

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

12. read poetry; read everything

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

14. being married to your best friend is ideal

15. try new things every day

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

17. fashion is stupid—occasionally fun, but stupid

18. it feels good to help people

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

20. words can indeed hurt

21. onions and Brussels sprouts are actually delicious

22. sing more, dance more

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

24. avoid the pink aisle and boys need dolls

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

26. vote

27. gardening is cheaper than therapy

28. feminism benefits everyone

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

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

31. love and kindness is all the religion I need

32. equality for only some is no equality at all

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

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

35. making it often feels better than buying it

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

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

38. I am still learning

39. friendship is as necessary to me as air

40. my ultimate career goal is still philanthropist

“We must protect the forests for our children, grandchildren and children yet to be born. We must protect the forests for those who can’t speak for themselves such as the birds, animals, fish and trees.”

~ Qwatsinas (Hereditary Chief Edward Moody), Nuxalk Nation

Mother Earth, Mother Earth.

Take our seed and give it birth.

Father Sun, Gleam and glow,

Until the root begins to grow.

Sister Rain, Sister Rain.

Shed thy tear to swell the grain.

Brother Wind, breathe and blow,

Then the blade all green will grow.

Earth and Sun and Wind and Rain,

Turn to gold the living grain.

—Eileen Hutchins

Happy Earth Day everyone!

I hope this little list will inspire you to do something good for Mother Earth and all her children. Start small, start anywhere, just start.

1. Release ladybugs in your garden.

2. Start an herb garden and maintain it organically.

3. Go for a bike ride and picnic in a green space.

4. Write a poem. What does the earth mean to you? Show it to teachers, at church, or send it in to the local newspaper.

5. Make a birdbath so our feathered friends have a source of clean water.

6. Participate in a community cleanup; or just walk through your neighborhood with a trash bag and pick up (safe) trash you see along the walk.

7. Make natural soap or shampoo without chemicals. It’s good for your body and good for our waters.

8. Buy something you need at a garage sale or a thrift store, instead of buying a new item at a department store.

9. Symbolically adopt an animal at your local zoo or favorite wildlife conservation organization.

10. Teach your children well. Teach them about stewardship and never be afraid to express your love of nature. Let them see your love of the earth in action.

Blessed be.

While I try to refrain from complaining here most of the time, I also know that I appreciate a little reality check once in a while. As a blog reader, I like to see writers reveal a human face. I like to see that people—even blogland-perfect-seeming people—make mistakes, struggle with decisions, have a messy house or a scattered mind. Truth. I like it.

Truth is, things are kind of a shambles around here these days. Asher got the flu last Thursday. Ian got it on Saturday. Both were quite ill through Easter. While Asher has recovered some of his bounce, both he and Ian are still a wreck, with terrible coughing. Asher is emotionally all over the place. I got the sick yesterday, complete with 101 degree fever and chills. When I woke up this morning, it was clear that Lucas finally had the flu, too.

We’ve been stuck at home now for the better part of the last five days. I got out for a bit last Saturday to see friends at a garden birthday party, which was fun. Easter Sunday was subdued. I met with some colleagues on Monday night.

Yesterday I somehow edited a 4,400 word chapter with a fever. I have no idea how well I did that work. But a rush editing job is rush, whether I am sick or not.

It’s not all rotten. Just mostly rotten. We have watched more videos in the last four days than in the last several months put together. Today we finally managed to get the dishwasher and the clothes washer going. Together, like a shamble of zombies, we folded four loads of clean laundry that were stacked up and beginning to topple over, so that it was getting hard to tell clean from dirty on the floor. We are keeping the chickens and the dogs and ourselves fed. Last night’s rain meant that I didn’t have to try to water today, which is something I doubt I could have done. Lucas has practiced his piano.

I missed painting class. I have taken no photos since Easter. We’re eating ramen and egg salad sandwiches and fish sticks.

Ian plucked up his courage yesterday and did a couple of errands. He went out to buy me a new nebulizer because mine is broken, in anticipation of some bad wheezing brought on by this illness. That’s true love, man.

Did I mention this is Ian’s and the kids’ spring vacation? Yeah. Sucks. In the midst all of this, we’re wrestling with a pretty big decision. Tempers are short. And yet, we carry on.

No words are needed, I think.

It is spring, and this makes me very, very happy. (This post was started yesterday and not finished in time. And that’s OK.)

This is my first lilac flower of the season. My lilac bush doesn’t have many flowers on it this spring. I don’t know why.

Sing, World, Sing!

Now in chilly places
Where the snow had been,
Wood and field and hollow,
Easter flowers begin.

Now a bud is opened,
Now a leaf uncurled;
Spring is in the sweet wind
Walking down the world.

Snowdrops in the garden,
Violets on the hills,
Cowslips in the meadow,
Dancing daffodils

Seem to lift their faces,
Softly whispering,
“Easter’s nearly here, now—
Sing, world, sing!”

These are our 12-day-old chicks. We have yet to decide on names for them. Ian, Lucas, and Asher all insist that they have the right set of names. (I happen to like Asher’s names best.) They just insist on using their own names for the girls.

New leaves are unfurling all around us. This is my beautiful Chinese Elm tree. Right now its leaves are the most gorgeous new green.

Here is the neighbor’s yellow wood sorrel (Oxalis europaea). This stuff glows! The kids eat it and call it sour grass.

This is my own sorrel (Oxalis articulata), AKA shamrock, sleeping beauty, sour trefoil. The shamrock I bought at the nursery for St. Patrick’s Day is also an Oxalis with white flowers. So all these years that I’ve been refering to this plant as our “shamrocks,” I was right!

My irises have increased!

This lovely azalea won’t be pretty for long. So I make sure to admire it every day that it blooms.

In honor of the equinox, I refreshed our nature table. With Easter just a couple of weeks away, I pulled out our bunnies and eggs.

I hung our blown eggs and egg ornaments on a huge branch that fell in a windstorm. This huge branch is frequently in Ian’s way. I feel he would like you to know that, and that he is patient with my weird hanging artworks all over our home.

Lucas dyed this handkerchief—at school? at camp? I don’t remember. I didn’t realize how lovely it was until yesterday. The spring maiden was a gift made by my friend Parnassus.

This is a mosaic Ian made: perfect balance between night and day, dark and light. I love it.

To me, our nature table conjures plenty, delight, joy, and light. It reminds me of carefree days and celebration. The spirit of the season of Ostara is enormous potential, growth, striving, peace, and fullness. I’m ready for it all.

I heard Asher singing a song: “It’s almost Easter. It’s almost Easter.” So I guess the nature table has done the trick. I think it’s lacking some spring tulips, though. I’d better get some.

There is a deliciously long list of fantastic things in my life lately. And because I have a moment or two, I’m savoring them. What’s not to feel grateful for?

~ Hosting friends for a kid-friendly St. Patrick’s Day party, complete with my first from-scratch lamb stew. Yum!

~ Cleaning our home for this party. A party is the best reason to clean.

~ Reveling in a surprisingly work-free weekend, when I expected to have to buckle down.

~ Watching my boys play with total concentration with their “cousins,” who are so very dear to us all. They are so comfortable with each other.

~ Observing how these children are all growing, growing, growing in myriad beautiful ways.

~ Brunching with friends most of Sunday, complete with a skip out to a nail salon with my girlfriends for a pedicure and pink/purple iridescent polish. First one in … years. So luxurious and fun.

~ Inquiring into the health of parents, backs, workouts and …

~ Listening, witnessing, offering friendship and support.

~ Having enough home-raised eggs to give some away.

~ Choosing the prudent path of getting home before it was too late to ready ourselves for a busy, exciting week. It’s a little sad when the fun ends, but letting go feels good, too.

~ Studying spelling words (Norse god names) with my son, who it going to nail them, I think.

~ Preparing for Lucas’s special week of one-on-one time with the Waldorf school’s farmer. Five extra-early mornings to greet and care for the animals of the school farm—a rare opportunity for any child.

~ Realizing that it’s OK that all the rain boots are still wet on the insides from Friday’s splashing and galloping in rain puddles. It was worth it.

~ Painting for an hour or so in my home until the daylight fled and I could no longer see the colors well enough to continue.

~ Eating a simple, delicious, fulfilling dinner with my tired, happy family.

~ Getting everyone in bed early to rest up for Monday and the early alarm.

~ Signing up for my first plein air painting workshop next month—at an iris farm, no less. SQUEE!

~ Thinking—hard—about getting more exercise. Yes, I’m slowly warming up to the idea. Mustn’t rush these things.

~ Noticing buds on my lilac, tons of new growth on my clematis vine, morning glory seedlings popping up, and growth on my new-this-year irises.

~ Balancing our many social opportunities with our need for downtime, hopefully in the right proportions, for the next few weeks.

~ Feeling excited and grateful that Lucas got the part he wanted in the fourth-grade play. It’s so wonderful to see him reach for something and catch it!

~ Rejoicing to see my little guy’s imagination blossom with Leprechauns and sweet mischief. “Shhh! Mama, do you hear the Leprechaun laughing? I think he’s over there, under the couch.”

~ Loving my husband more and more every day.

Oh, Saturday. How I love you! I swoon with love for you!

Any day that starts with an extra hour of delicious morning sleep is tops. Why does morning sleep feel better than any other sleep?

My day started with coffee and some new window stars. Both of these are first attempts at new patterns.  The red flower was tough because I had to trim my small 6 1/4 inch square kite paper into teeny-tiny rectangles with a particular height-to-width proportion. Like, with MATH.

It would have been easier with bigger paper, as the instructions call for. But I’m happy with the result. See the little red star in the middle?

The pink one with the open center is kind of a showstopper, I think.

This little darling accidentally flew into our window today. She stunned herself pretty badly, and allowed Ian to pick her up and place her into this tree. At first her eyes were closed and her eyelids were kind of twitchy. Later on, she was like this, eyes open but not ready to fly away. Then, she was gone. I hope she’s OK now. She might be a goldfinch, but I’m not sure.

We have four two-day-old chicks in our home again. Here they are at one day old. We got two Black Sex-Link chicks (who are certain to be female because the male chicks look different at hatching) and two Silver Laced Wyandotts. At first I was sure I’d play it safe and get four Black Sex-Link chicks to guarantee we were getting females, but then the Silver Laced Wyandotts wooed me with their gorgeous adult plumage and I succumbed to temptation. Let’s all hope together that they’ll turn out to be hens, OK?

The chicks are much more sturdy on their pins now. Lucas is enjoying them a lot. We are debating about their names. Ian wants to name them after sci-fi space princesses. Lucas is in favor of Norse goddess names, although he also likes the idea of calling them Bear, Raven, Duck, and Chipmunk because, well,  that’s funny. Asher seems to want to keep with the theme of nature oriented names like our other hens. He has thoughtfully suggested Moon, Star, Rain, and Tornado.

My garden is coming alive again in small ways.

This new forsythia was allegedly a flowering quince when I bought it and planted it late last spring. I’m not sad because it’s gorgeous.

Asher received his first lessons in chess today. My heart skipped a beat when I saw this. Is he really old enough to start learning chess?

Lucas practiced piano and cleaned his room today. We also went to the library and got him his own library card.

And although I don’t yet have a photo, I spent some time today painting my kitchen door turquoise. I’ve been wanting to paint this door for twelve years now. Ridiculous, but true. And why turquoise? Well, why ever not?

We had yummy French onion soup and steak and asparagus for dinner. We read leprechaun stories at bedtime.

Life is good. I love Saturdays.

—Painting by Edith Holden, naturalist, artist, author, and art instructor (1871-1920)

Well, hello March. It’s been so long, and I’m delighted to see you back again. February and I don’t get along as well as I would like, but we’re making progress and our relations are more comfortable in recent years than they used to be. But you, March. You are lovely, a breath of potential that stirs me up and fills me with a yearning for adventure and romance.

Spring Signs

Everywhere the wind blows

There goes spring—

Red kites and blue kites

Are tugging at the string.

Walks have hardly dried

Until marbles roll about

Long before the colored flowers

In the fields are out.

Maybe there is frost yet

And a touch of snow,

But there are little spring-signs

Where the children go.

—Mildred Bowers Armstrong

{This letter was started on January 31, worked on again February 24, and finished today, February 28.}

Dear Asher,

Happy birthday, my love! You are 5-years-old! You are so very excited to be 5 now. Every day for the last week I had to tell you how many sleeps until your birthday.

So let me paint a little picture about you and your life right now. You are the most precocious child, always chatting and singing through nearly every moment. You tell wonderful and hair-raising stories to anyone who will listen, especially about Earthland and your adventures there, your pet dragons of various breeds, the battles you engage in to save the world, and your wife Jennifer, who is having a baby with you. (This development is very recent.) The baby is a boy and his name is Morlassus. I hope to hear more about Jennifer and Morlassus.

You are very much at home in the Red Rose Kindergarten at our Waldorf school. Your teachers both adore you and you seem rather popular. Yesterday you told me that there are two girls who are in love with you, but since you were being discreet, you only told me the first sound of their names. What a gentleman you are. Lucas promptly guessed the girls’ names, and you eagerly confirmed he was right.  It seems that you have many friends that you run around with on the playground. I hear a lot about Elijah, Lilly, Enzo, Landon, and of course, Noah, and many others. It’s fun to watch your world expanding to include new people. When I’ve had the privilege of watching your class during circle time, I’ve been delighted to see that you enjoy the songs and movements so much. You pay attention and participate with joy. You love to clown with your buddies.

I hear more about battling from you than I remember hearing from your brother when he was your age. I don’t know if that’s part of being a younger sibling, for your interests tend toward the more mature things your brother likes.

At home, you and Lucas spend a lot of your free time together. Usually you get along pretty well, although now that you are older, the two of you fight more often. When you do, there’s all kind of shouting and often tears. I think you work very hard to get your point across and, in the long run, I think this is good for you. You stick up for yourself well; you push back when he’s trying to control or manipulate you. You are possessive of your things and sometimes don’t like being told how to play with them, which Lucas often does. At other times, you are happy to let him lead your games and imagination play. When the two of you work together, and allow each other space to create, you can be so agreeable and amazing—magical things happen in your minds. That part is fun to watch quietly, out of the corner of my eye so you don’t catch me. Together you are making up your own language, which as far as I can tell involves both of you making up words and Lucas correcting yours. You both enjoy hatching and training creatures and playing with your pet dragons.

~~~~

February 24

Asher, I can’t believe how much time has passed since your birthday. Here it is almost a month later and I still haven’t finished this letter. I’ll continue to try to paint a picture of who you are now.

At 5, you are formidable. You are confident and brave. You seem to know what you want and what you’re about most of the time. Although you often happily follow in your brother’s footsteps, you also sometimes pursue your own path with a kind of determination and certainty that I deeply admire.

You talk constantly. When you’re not talking, you are singing or jibber-jabbering in a steady stream-of-consciousness narrative.  I love to hear you singing, and I think you have a beautiful voice. Sometimes you and Lucas will sing together; he takes the low parts and you take the high and you weave your music together in a spontaneous and exciting way. You seem to have an instinct for it. I confess I sometimes find it hard to think in the midst of all your music-making. But I know you are processing your world, changing it through the power of your words, figuring out how things work, and joyfully plucking from it all the wacky humor and opportunities for fun as possible.

You also tell lots of stories. You enjoy tricking people, so you now tell stories that aren’t true in the hopes that people will believe you and you can have a giggle. And sometimes, I think you believe your stories yourself. The line between reality and fantasy is, well, rarely observed and certainly never hard and fast. You have been known to doorbell ditch, both from the outside and the inside of the house, by which I mean that you will knock on a hard surface until an adult goes to answer the door, only to find no one there.

For fun, you love to play with LEGOs and building spaceships is your specialty. You also enjoy blocks, but choose them less frequently nowadays. Once in a while you pick up a stuffed animal or your little Waldorf house elf Miko and play and play. When Lucas is home, you two enjoy “fighting” or “training” in martial arts. Lucas has convinced you that he is in fact a martial arts ninja master, and you are his willing and obedient student. He’s even got you calling him Master within the context of your game. Sometimes this play is relaxed and groovy, and you both enjoy it a lot. Other times, the sparring can lead to hurts. You were both given lightsabers for Christmas, and you love to battle each other in the evening, when the lightsabers glow beautifully in the darkness. Basically, you and Lucas are best friends and brothers, which is something special, I think—you compete, fight, and play with each other; you stick up for and cover for each other; and you learn from each other constantly. I often watch with wonder at how you interact, knowing that you’re both learning so much and gaining so much by being brothers. It’s marvelous.

We’re at the cabin in Tahoe for a family vacation now. Today, I watched you playing in the snow with great vigor and enthusiasm—never mind that it’s been two years since we came to play in the snow. You rambled through the woods near the cabin, enjoying your freedom and time to explore. You threw snowballs at your brother and didn’t mind when you got hit yourself. You never got too cold or out of sorts. I love to let you and your brother roam. Opportunities to do so safely are fewer than I would wish. To see you tromping through the woods, following your nose or the fairies or whatever it is that pulls you onward is a wonderful thing.

~~~~

February 28

Your latest obsession is Dungeons and Dragons. You now talk about it constantly. We probably should have held off on this for a few years, but as your brother is the perfect age for this kind of role playing and you absolutely will not be left out, we have compromised. Daddy is a wonderful DM. He has painted miniatures for your characters according to your descriptions of them and he is creating quests for you and Lucas that are good for you, requiring that your characters work together as friends and companions. I like this, for it’s a way of exercising your imaginations in cooperative ways instead of competitive ones. Once, many years ago, a friend told me how to raise brothers, for he himself was raising two boys in a way quite opposite how his own parents raised him and his brother. He said, “You must find ways to make your boys work together, even if that means they strive against you, the parent, as a team. Avoid all situations where your boys are striving against each other. That is how to foster brotherhood and closeness in your sons.” I’ll never forget that, and my heart tells me he is right.

Anyway, you are currently playing D&D as a “dorf” named Shortbow, which may be the cutest thing I’ve ever heard. You are beardless, because you don’t care for beards, and you are an adult. Not a child. Not a teenager. You like to inject all sorts of things into the story Daddy is telling during a game.

You have great new skills now. You can snap your fingers. You can throw a mean snowball. You recently braved the two-wheel bike (with training wheels) and Lucas gave you his old bike for your birthday. You ride it often on our street now, while Lucas rides his bike or his scooter. You seem to like the speed you can achieve now. You also can hop on one foot quite a distance and you can count pretty well up to 30, missing a few numbers along the way. Same with your alphabet, but we’re not worrying about that. I think it is rather funny that your interest in letters has come mainly from the kids on the playground. (Take that, Doubters. Waldorf kids not pushed will learn their letters and numbers in their own time, probably in Kindergarten.) And of course, you pay attention to your brother writing and practicing his spelling words. One of my favorite sights is seeing you both absorbed in a book or writing away in your own blank notebooks. A few days ago you wrote an entire page of “spells” in crisp, neat, blocky, made-up scribble letters. I love them.

I can go on and on, of course, for you are endlessly fascinating to me. I love you completely and I’m so proud of you.

Love,

Mama