It’s weird how one can feel opposite feelings about the same thing. For example, I felt both

grateful

and disappointed

about doing this today, on Memorial Day:

So, to care for and console myself, I took a ten-minute break outside in my garden to look at these:

Green and purple hydrangea buds

Squirrel in my pecan tree

Nasturtiums grown from seed

Dusty miller buds about to pop

Pansies

Mexican primrose and African daisies

More nasturtiums grown from seed

Day lily

And now I feel

reenergized

amazed

galvanized

and happy.

You may be bored with these spring pictures posts but I’m not. I seem to be endlessly fascinated with small things lately; they are unbelievably intricate if you look closely.

This blackberry maiden is being visited by her bee paramour, who is all up in her business.

I like the tangle and riot of color that makes up wild places.

Maypole top and blue sky.

This is redwood sorrel on the forest floor at Muir Woods. When the sun shines too brightly on this shade-loving plant, it folds its leaves down to minimize the exposure.

I’ve never really gardened from seed before. This spring Lucas and I put a variety of seeds directly in the ground or in pots. So far we seem to be having good luck with the corn, pumpkins, chard, cucumber, nasturtiums, morning glories, and four o’clocks. It’s kind of a miracle when the little seedling emerges from the earth! If they thrive it will be another miracle.

Blue is rather rare among plants. We found this wildflower at Indian Grinding Rock in April.

Red seeds soar above the Japanese maple in my backyard. To me they look like birds in flight.

The same day I noticed all those orange Chinese fringe flower leaves in my backyard and made the orange leaf “flower,” I also realized that the photinia leaves scattered on the ground were quite colorful. It was surprising. It’s spring, after all, and one expects leaves to be green, or maybe red like the new growth on this plant. When the photinia leaves lie haphazardly where they fall, it’s hard to notice their color variants. Gathering some together revealed almost a rainbow. My gratitude goes out to the land artists who made me realize that leaves, even from the same plant, are not all one color.

Seeing—really seeing—is something that comes naturally to some. For others it requires some discipline. We often interact with our surroundings using a kind of visual shorthand, taking in only the most general details as we move through space. Seeing is something I’m working on because really seeing sometimes leads to finding. Discovery gives one quite a marvelous feeling, don’t you think? Over time, I’ve come to understand that discovery is very often a simple matter of tilting your head to the side, brushing off the debris, and revealing what was there all along. To my way of thinking, this is proof that miracles are all around us—and within.

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.

I don’t wander very far from home, most days, and yet I always find something that inspires me and fills me with wonder. I’m grateful for all the beauty that I’ve soaked in this spring. I’m trying to use it to stoke my own internal creativity and patience.

Graceful catkins decorate this tree, which is the last one to leaf out in my backyard. I wish I knew what it is.

I forget whether this is a “Sterling Silver” or “Blue Girl” rose, but man, it smells sweet! It’s silly that I don’t remember, since I placed it there myself!

Wildflowers we found at Sacramento Waldorf School farm, when Ian, Asher, and I went looking for Lucas.

A rainbow of wheelbarrows at the SWS farm. They just looked so useful and beautiful at the same time.

Mint returning in my food garden plot, next to my parsley. I was told I’d regret planting mint directly in the ground instead of in a pot, but the truth is I am happy to see it coming up. Lucas frequently goes nibbling his way through the garden plot and enjoys making all sorts of mint soups and drinks.

My Mother’s Day weekend was delightful! It was full of flowers, yummy food, a pedicure, and art. My family lavished attention on me and we were able to do things I really enjoy.

Like take a trip to Capital Nursery to buy roses for me and Mother’s Day presents for my mom and Ian’s mom.

Of course, I had to drool over the selection of clematis vines. Must have one soon, but how do I choose?

Here is one of the roses we came home with; it’s called “Daybreak.” I’ve really been wanting an apricot rose! I got three other new roses: a pink one called “Passionate Kisses,” a second “Hot Cocoa,” and a violet rose called “Wile Blue Yonder.”  We bought my mother a yellow rose called “Monkey Business” and bought Ian’s mom a lovely hanging fuschia with pink and red flowers for her shady patio. Fuschia flowers always make me think of little ballerinas.

Then my sweet hubby planted my roses for me, after I picked out where they should go. Poor Ian! He used to think he’d never have a yard so he’d never have to do yard work. Then he met me.

Asher practiced some new skills, like climbing up the slide. He mentioned something about one of the other boys at preschool doing it…. Lucas played with his new tennis racket and fetched mishit balls from the neighbor’s yard. We weeded and planted vinca and red and pink iceplant in the troublesome spot in our front yard flowerbed in the hopes that it will hug into the little hillside and make it prettier.

We also did a fun art project that I’ll write about later.

Raindrops fell just as we were finishing up the gardening so we all went for a dip in the hot tub in the rain. It might have been peaceful and romantic if not for all the water monkeys splashing around! Ian painted my toes for me while I read a magazine and drank a cocktail. Bliss! Then we went visiting, to deliver our Mother’s Day gifts to our moms.

So you see how well I am treated, how well I am mothered?

To all the people in my life who have mothered me, inspired me, challenged me, picked me up after I failed, taught me to take good care of myself and others, who modeled self-worth, strength, and courage, who are dedicated to their own ideals and pursuits of happiness, health, and making the world a better place, who have taken care of those I love—I honor you and THANK YOU. Mothering is a calling, a practice, a crucible, and a responsibility, and we all do it—female or male, with children of our bodies or without. It’s an expression of our humanity.

I hope your Mother’s Day was as lovely as mine!

(Letter was begun on April 30 and finished on May 3)

Dear Lucas,

It’s only a day until your 8th birthday. You are over the moon with excitement. I think perhaps no child has ever anticipated any birthday as much as you have this one. You cannot wait to be 8! As the youngest child in your class, you have watched all of your friends turn 8 already. A couple of them have already turned 9. I’m sorry, dear one, but it may always be this way for you. It might be hard to be the youngest child sometimes, and might sometimes feel not fair, but I don’t worry about you much. Your charisma and joyful attitude make you beloved by all. And you would not have wanted to wait to start school another year! Your mind is racing ahead of your age in almost every way, there was no way we could have held you back.

So many exciting things are happening in your life now. I can see you are so eager to find out what’s next, what new opportunity is coming your way. I can see that you’re maturing, becoming more comfortable in your body and in your roles as student, brother, and as helping, cooperative son.

Sometimes I look at you and my love for you just pours out of me, and washes over you, I hope, wherever you are. I wonder if you can tell when I’m feeling this way. Sometimes I catch your eye and rather than make a big scene, I just wink. In that tiny moment, when you smile and wink back, I see that you know you are loved. The moments when you happily hold my hand in public, when you approach me and throw your arms around my middle and bury your face in my chest, when you snuggle up to me and tell me how much you love me—these are miracles every time, in part because they are coming a little less often than before. And I gobble these moments up like chocolates, try to fill myself with them, as if for a coming famine.

We had to strike a deal recently. You were angry with me, complaining that I was treating you too much like a baby. “You never let me do ___,” you accused. We were butting heads: you wanting more independence, me seeing you taking risks and acting wild and wanting to corral you. A friend of mine suggested a solution and so far it has worked. One day a week now you are picked up from school extra late, like at 5 or 5:30 in the evening. You want this extra time to play with your friends who are in aftercare. You want more freedom. In exchange, you must be better about coming with me at pickup time, without argument or hassle. I’m grateful my friend suggested this deal, this privilege. I was caught up in old patterns of thinking—feeling guilty for all the time we don’t spend together, wanting to gather you up at the end of your day, as if to apologize for all the time I’m working. But you are ready for more, for new experiences and new challenges. Your dad and I respect that.

You are doing well in school. Your reading is coming along nicely and you’ve been really into the Diary of a Wimpy Kid books, which I have mixed feelings about. On the plus side, you’re excited about them and practicing reading. Once in a while we wake up and find you reading on the couch with the light on, having risen before the rest of us. That is nothing short of a miracle, in more ways than one. On the downside, I think the content of these books is a little old for you. In math, you are learning to add multiple-digit numbers and the new task is to figure out the process of carrying the one to the next place when adding columns of numbers. One paper that came home recently clearly indicated that you don’t understand this yet. I found myself in the astonishing position of 1) having you sit with me in an open, receptive mood, while we worked through the confusing problems together, and 2) teaching you MATH! Not my best subject, but second-grade math is OK. Next year? Not so sure how much help I’ll be. Your confidence in math is a little low right now. At one point, you told me that a buddy of yours is “Way smarter than me.” Au contraire, my son. I hope I reassured you.

Let’s see… I think your favorite school subjects are gardening, movement, German, and language arts. Gardening at school has inspired you to have your own vegetable patch here at home. In fact, you sacrificed half of your precious digging hill to plant tomatoes, a cucumber, a watermelon, rainbow chard, corn and pumpkins. It’s a lot packed into a small area, but for now it looks modest. We left a little space just for digging. And you carefully made rows in the rest, amending the soil a bit before planting your plants and seeds. I fervently hope this garden grows well for you. We have plans to make a little fence around it.

Part of you is fascinated by the idea of homeschooling, but I know in real life you would miss your friends terribly if we took you out of school. Plus, homeschooling is not always about playing Legos all day. We are not considering this at all. But, in deference to your interests, we may try to do a bit of “homeschooling” this summer. Perhaps some science projects, some story writing, some math and other cool games. One big project may be to build a chicken coop with Dad!

Two weeks ago you started piano lessons for the first time. You like your teacher and are excited to be learning how to play. We’re not calling it “practice time,” according to your teacher. We are calling it “playing” so that piano stays fun for you. I hope this is something that you’ll fall in love with.

You have been doing a lot more cooking lately, usually with Dad and often to make scrambled eggs in the morning. You two get along so well—most of the time. I’m hoping you might get a kids’ cookbook for your birthday so we can all explore this together. You’ve already made mozzarella cheese, after all! We did this all together a couple of months ago and it was totally fun! Today you made spinach sandwiches for Asher and yourself, and used the stove to make celery soup. You’re considering creating your own recipe book, using only recipes you invent yourself.

Let’s talk about sticks for a moment. My word! Where do you find them all? It seems like I’m constantly wondering where they come from and how come I never noticed them before. They are the world’s most perfect toy, apparently for any age between 1 and … well, 8 at least. Trouble is, sticks are devious little things, for they tempt you (and Asher) into highly rambunctious sword fighting, and all other martial arts. Occasionally I get fed up with the wacking-with-sticks play and confiscate them, removing them to the green waste bin. And then, twenty minutes later, your hands are full of more sticks!

Asher is now a proper playmate for you much of the time. He mimics your every word and move. It’s quite adorable when you’re both behaving well. You play pretend “battles” with “powers,” which involves a lot of running, jumping, dramatic magical gesturing and many, many sound effects with spitting. It’s better than actual hitting most of the time. You both get carried away, though, and you both take great pleasure in winding each other up into states of ire and violence, especially if sticks are involved. “He hit me!” “Asher, NO!” The bickering is perfectly normal.

What I love, however, is when I find you and Asher sitting together on the couch, arms around each other, or cuddled up in bed together at night. Sometimes I catch you reading to Asher and my heart just melts. I see you guide him in parking lots, offering your hand as protection from passing cars. You greet him with a giant, feet-off-the-ground-swing-around hug at the end of the school day. You brag to your friends about how cool your little brother is. You tell Asher that he is your buddy, that he’s adorable, and that you’re best friends. These are moments we, as your parents, cherish.

***

And now, it’s two days after your birthday, May 3, 2010. You seem perfectly satisfied with the fuss we made over your turning 8, and frankly, so am I. What a wonderful weekend it was! We had a great time roller-skating at Sunrise Rollerland with your friends. You are a determined roller-skater, and although you fell down often, you kept getting up, your resolve never flagging. I admire your stubborn perseverance; I think it’s a quality that will serve you well in life. You seem delighted with all of your gifts: new craft projects, science kits, books, Legos, modeling clay, BIKE, game, model, and much more! I’m thrilled to see you riding your new bike—it is probably the coolest bike I’ve ever seen (complete with skull art) and it’s your favorite color (which is back to blue these days after having cycled through red and green).

You shared your birthday with two special events at school: the 50th anniversary of Sacramento Waldorf School and the May Day Festival, which was on the 2nd. This just carried you along on a wave of celebration and delight, allowing you tons of extra time to range and roam with your school buddies and to have lots of fun. I like how much you now seem to own the school campus. It’s your turf and you’re comfortable there. It was such a great weekend; I hope it was everything you wished for.

Lucas, we love you. We are so proud of you. Happy 8th birthday, my love!

Mama

We are closely watching this praying mantis egg sack in my dogwood tree. Ian noticed it first. I can’t wait to have babies!

Singular and spectacular, this iris in my front garden seems to be inviting me to stare into the sun.

My old fashioned rose bush had an intimate visitor today.

On April 20, just a week ago, our sunny backyard was pelted with hail!

Miners’ lettuce we found on our hike in Muir Woods. Lucas is always eating this stuff. The first time he did so, when he was 3 and a half and plucked it from the trailside and I didn’t know what it was, I nearly had a heart attack. I shook Ian and screeched, “Is it edible? Is it?”

Earth Day was last week, you know. In past years, we have planted trees in honor of Earth Day. This year we decided to do a little science experiment and care for one of our more unusual housemates.

Lucas and Daddy feed the Venus flytrap plant a tiny bug.

It’s tricky work, imitating a bug so that the plant will close its leaf around the meal.

Our Earth Day dinner table setting, complete with wayside dandelions, and the boys eagerly watching the feeding project.

Thanks to Parnasus for this great idea! We have a simple science experiment of window seed germination going. We have three types of seeds (wheat, corn, and pumpkin) in plastic bags filled with moist cotton balls and taped to the sliding glass door.  (I’m bummed about that branding all over our experiment, but oh well.) The seeds are getting several hours of bright morning sunshine each day.

See the tiny wheat berries germinating? One or two have a little leaf already. This photo was taken only two and a half days after we put the seeds into the bags and taped them up! By using cotton balls instead of soil, we can see both the roots and shoots!

We spent Saturday doing garden chores, and the weather was so mild and perfect, I didn’t mind a bit! Honestly, gardening in April is the BEST because it’s not yet too hot.

We pruned wisteria vines from out of our redwood tree, where they like to rove. We also planted new plants and trimmed trees and Ian reset our slate walkway. (It is still drying and looks like a sticky, muddy mess right now, but soon the stones will be revealed and we’ll plant some kind of creepy, crawly turf to grow between them.) I potted some plants and dug up a few daylilies to propagate them. I’ve never done that before, so I’m hoping that the five new clumps I planted elsewhere in the yard take off. If this works, then I have many more daylilies to separate.

Slowly, slowly the bare spots in the yard are filling in with new lovelies. Last year’s plants are bigger—the ones that survived our freakish snow from last December. It is one of my several obsessions: What will go here? What could I grow there? I’m thinking of adding something with purple flowers here. Is there any yellow over there? No? Better add some.

And my patient Ian smiles, pulls out the tools, and gets to work. Best of all, he said, “I’m really proud of our yard.”

One of our six new azaleas.

Nasturtium seedlings. I’m hoping these will become a riotous tangle of red, orange, yellow, and green.

My purple robe locust tress are in full bloom and the hummingbirds and bees are mad for them. They smell divine. One of these tress is now about 30 feet tall.

New patio pots with petunias, gazania, and bacopa.

My soft lamb’s ears. I love to pet them.