Blessed Rain for Earth Day

Gift of raindrops on roses Happy Earth Day indeed! #spring #waldorfhome #earthday #earth #rain #roses #California #drought

Happy Earth Day! It’s raining! This is simply the most perfect blessing for California, and I’m so delighted. My heart is high and full of love and compassion, soaring and aching in turns along with loved ones’ hearts, and grateful to have so much abundant beauty and bounteous love and friendship in my life.

I am the beauty of the green earth
And the white moon among the stars
And the mystery of the waters
And the desire of human hearts.

Call unto your soul: Arise and come unto me
For I am the soul of nature who gives
Life to the universe.
From me all things proceed
And unto me all things must return.
—Doreen Valiente


This is the spirit of Earth Day for me: wonder and celebration, joy and protection, and profound gratitude.

#nofilter #roses

This grand show is eternal.
It is always sunrise somewhere:
the dew is never all dried at once:
a shower is forever falling, vapor is ever rising.
Eternal sunrise, eternal sunset, eternal dawn and gloaming,
on sea and continents and islands, each in its turn,
as the round earth rolls.
—John Muir


I do not have to go
To Sacred Places
In far-off lands.
The ground I stand on
Is holy.

Here, in this little garden
I tend
My pilgrimage ends.
The wild honeybees
The hummingbird moths
The flickering fireflies at dusk
Are a microcosm
Of the Universe.
Each seed that grows
Each spade of soil
Is full of miracles.

And I toil and sweat
And watch and wonder
And am full of love.
Living in place
In this place.
For truth and beauty
Dwell here.
—Mary de La Valette


I just couldn’t hold it in. My love and gratitude flies out to all beings—may all of us be blessed with a perfect moment of appreciation for this precious little marble floating in space,  where we live, toil and sweat, and care for each other.

Blessed Be.

P.S. I’m going out now to poke little seeds into soil.

Earth Day 2015

Happy Earth Day.  May we all make the world a better place with our amazing cleverness, cooperation, and compassion. Sending love and blessings to all.

Happy Earth Day!

Our little patch of Earth is presently covered in flowers. All of my beautiful plants are laughing uproariously in color. It makes me happy.


No filter Aurora, I think

California is experiencing a very serious drought. And I’m conflicted about having a garden at all. I’ve been building and growing and tending this little oasis of ours for 16 years now. I think often about taking out my lawn, but then I watch my children playing in our yard and feel so grateful that we have a place to play! I am withholding water from these plants. I’m taking Navy showers (brrr!) and saving every drop of rainwater I can capture whenever water does come from the sky.

I promise to bathe my children rarely. I promise to make them wear the same pajamas several nights in a row. I promise to save shower water. I promise to let the yellow mellow at night. I promise to eat less meat. I promise to plant only drought-tolerant plants. I promise I will only drink coffee and champagne from now on if I can keep my garden alive this summer!

Foxgloves are coming

So far, the yard is doing pretty well on water rations, but the temperatures are still cool.


Last week Asher asked if we could make a cactus garden. I bought him three little cactuses and brought a few more from my kitchen window out so he could make this. He painted the vine wreath with green and red paint, and then we buried it into the little garden so it looks like an arch now.

2015-04-15 15.50.52

2015-04-15 16.23.16

We also planted a tiny vegetable garden. I debated about this, but figured it was a good cause, especially since the drip watering system will be watering this box anyway. We planted 2 sungold tomatoes, 1 rainbow tomato (that might be the name), two types of cucumber (one is a lemon cucumber), 1 summer squash, 1 Japanese eggplant, 2 purple basil, 2 sweet basil. (We like to make pesto.)

Today, after school, I’m going to see if I can get the boys to plant some seeds with me and do some art for Earth Day.

And now poetry:

The Robin’s Song

God bless the field and bless the furrow,
Stream and branch and rabbit burrow,
Hill and stone and flower and tree,
From Bristol town to Wetherby –
Bless the sun and bless the sleet,
Bless the land and bless the street,
Bless the night and bless the day,
From Somerset and all the way
To the meadows of Cathay;
Bless the minnow, bless the whale,
Bless the rainbow and the hail,
Bless the nest and bless the leaf,
Bless the righteous and the thief,
Bless the wing and bless the fin,
Bless the air I travel in,
Bless the mill and bless the mouse,
Bless the miller’s bricken house,
Bless the earth and bless the sea,
God bless you and God bless me!
—Old English Rhyme


Canticle to the Sun

Praised be God for brother Sun,
Who shines with splendid glow,
He brings the golden day to us,
Thy glory does he show!
Praised be God for sister Moon
And every twinkling star;
They shine in heaven most bright and clear,
All glorious they are.
Praised be God for brother Wind
That storms across the skies,
And then grows still, and silent moves
And sweetly sings and sighs.
Praised be God for Water pure,
Her usefulness we tell,
So humble, precious, clean and good,
She works for us so well.
Praised be God for brother Fire
Friendly and wild and tame,
Tender and warm, mighty and strong,
A flashing, flaring flame.
Praised be to God for mother Earth,
Who keeps us safe and well,
Whose mother heart all warm with love,
Dark in her depths doth dwell.
—St. Francis of Assisi

Here are a few links I’ve enjoyed this week, and thought you might like them too:

Plantable gift wrapping paper

Plantable paper earths with seeds

Crochet earth ball pattern. I wish I could make this but I can’t crochet!

Recycle your Crayola markers

Green gifts from National Resources Defense Council

Elemental play book

Finally, our Late Spring Festivals E-Book is on sale for 50% off at Little Acorn Learning. It’s only $12.50 until 4/24/15.

OK. This was a rambling post. It’s what I get for trying to cram weeks of living into one blog. So, back to the message:

Happy Earth Day to all beings near and far, finned and furry, scaly and feathered, mossy and green. May we humans all make the world a better place with our amazing cleverness, cooperation, and compassion. Sending love and blessings to all. ~~~~

Giving Thanks


for all my hands can hold—
apples red,
and melons gold,
yellow corn
both ripe and sweet,
peas and beans
so good to eat!

for all my eyes can see—
lovely sunlight,
field and tree,
white cloud-boats
in sea-deep sky,
soaring bird
and butterfly.

for all my ears can hear—
birds’ song echoing
far and near,
songs of little
stream, big sea,
cricket, bullfrog,
duck and bee!
—Ivy O. Eastwick


To my parents, thank you for all the unflagging faith, love, friendship, and for all you do to support me and my family, even still, even though I’m 42.

To my brother, thank you for being so steadfast, and for opening up.

To my in-laws, thank you for the love and comfort, for your respect, for the constant love you flow to my children.

To my sons, thank you for so much joy and inspiration, for being so resilient when we mess up, for shining your pure and perfect light into our lives, and for loving us completely.

To my friends, who are legion, near and far, thank you for the laughs, adventures, trust, time, attention, caring, honesty, support, forgiveness, courage, vulnerability, strength, creativity, madness, and dreams.

To my husband, who is my whole heart, my earth, my home, and my fire, who teaches, scrubs, weeps, strives, laughs, heals, parents, and sleeps beside me, thank you for everything you are and for loving me.

I am blessed beyond deserving, beyond measure. And I am grateful.




Autumn Leaves

In the hush and the lonely silence
Of the chill October night,
Some wizard has worked his magic
With fairy fingers light.
The leaves of the sturdy oak trees
Are splendid with crimson and red.
And the golden flags of the maple
Are fluttering overhead.
Through the tangle of faded grasses
There are trailing vines ablaze,
And the glory of warmth and color
Gleams through the autumn haze.
Like banners of marching armies
That farther and farther go;
Down the winding roads and valleys
The boughs of the sumacs glow.
So open your eyes, little children,
And open your hearts as well,
Till the charm of the bright October
Shall fold you in its spell.
—Angelina Wray

This is my neighbor’s tree. In the span of two days it turned the most brilliant, fiery scarlet orange—the kind of color that seems to pulse and throb in the sunshine. Two days later it had shed every leaf and its branches were completely bare. My neighbor is a diligent man, with a tidy lawn and tidy house and tidy children. He cleaned up the entire pile of leaves in one afternoon, before they were even dry. Before anyone jumped in them.

Barefoot Boys


It’s a celebration around here. There was a big class party for the sixth grade. The first graders had a swim party yesterday. They are done for the year, and are dreaming of lazy days of pure fun. In honor of this special day, the last day of school, I present this evocative poem by Whittier.

Blessings on thee, little man,
Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan!
With thy turned-up pantaloons,
And thy merry whistled tunes;
With thy red lip, redder still
Kissed by strawberries on the hill;
With the sunshine on thy face,
Through thy torn brim’s jaunty grace;
From my heart I give thee joy,—
I was once a barefoot boy!
Prince thou art,—the grown-up man
Only is republican.
Let the million-dollared ride!
Barefoot, trudging at his side,
Thou hast more than he can buy
In the reach of ear and eye,—
Outward sunshine, inward joy:
Blessings on thee, barefoot boy!


Oh for boyhood’s painless play,
Sleep that wakes in laughing day,
Health that mocks the doctor’s rules,
Knowledge never learned of schools,
Of the wild bee’s morning chase,
Of the wild-flower’s time and place,
Flight of fowl and habitude
Of the tenants of the wood;
How the tortoise bears his shell,
How the woodchuck digs his cell,
And the ground-mole sinks his well;
How the robin feeds her young,
How the oriole’s nest is hung;
Where the whitest lilies blow,
Where the freshest berries grow,
Where the ground-nut trails its vine,
Where the wood-grape’s clusters shine;
Of the black wasp’s cunning way,
Mason of his walls of clay,
And the architectural plans
Of gray hornet artisans!
For, eschewing books and tasks,
Nature answers all he asks;
Hand in hand with her he walks,
Face to face with her he talks,
Part and parcel of her joy,—
Blessings on the barefoot boy!


Oh for boyhood’s time of June,
Crowding years in one brief moon,
When all things I heard or saw,
Me, their master, waited for.
I was rich in flowers and trees,
Humming-birds and honey-bees;
For my sport the squirrel played,
Plied the snouted mole his spade;
For my taste the blackberry cone
Purpled over hedge and stone;
Laughed the brook for my delight
Through the day and through the night,
Whispering at the garden wall,
Talked with me from fall to fall;
Mine the sand-rimmed pickerel pond,
Mine the walnut slopes beyond,
Mine, on bending orchard trees,
Apples of Hesperides!
Still as my horizon grew,
Larger grew my riches too;
All the world I saw or knew
Seemed a complex Chinese toy,
Fashioned for a barefoot boy!


Oh for festal dainties spread,
Like my bowl of milk and bread;
Pewter spoon and bowl of wood,
On the door-stone, gray and rude!
O’er me, like a regal tent,
Cloudy-ribbed, the sunset bent,
Purple-curtained, fringed with gold,
Looped in many a wind-swung fold;
While for music came the play
Of the pied frogs’ orchestra;
And, to light the noisy choir,
Lit the fly his lamp of fire.
I was monarch: pomp and joy
Waited on the barefoot boy!


Cheerily, then, my little man,
Live and laugh, as boyhood can!
Though the flinty slopes be hard,
Stubble-speared the new-mown sward,
Every morn shall lead thee through
Fresh baptisms of the dew;
Every evening from thy feet
Shall the cool wind kiss the heat:
All too soon these feet must hide
In the prison cells of pride,
Lose the freedom of the sod,
Like a colt’s for work be shod,
Made to tread the mills of toil,
Up and down in ceaseless moil:
Happy if their track be found
Never on forbidden ground;
Happy if they sink not in
Quick and treacherous sands of sin.
Ah! that thou couldst know thy joy,
Ere it passes, barefoot boy!

—John Greenleaf Whittier (1855)

Yay, Summer! Indeed!

Advent and St. Nicholas E-Book on Sale

Advent & Saint Nichoals Festival E-Book

Well, here it is, Advent already. I’m not too great at marketing, but this is to let you know that my co-author Eileen and I are having a sale on our Advent and St. Nicholas Festival E-Book until December 7,2013. The sale price is $9.99—half off the regular price of $19.99.

It offers poems, stories, songs, crafts, and many special ways that families, schools, or childcare professionals can celebrate the whole month of December with children.

A measured, calm approach to the winter holidays gives children time to dream, live into the stories of their faith and the season, and count the days of Advent. Children can savor the passing of time with peaceful, delicious anticipation and gentle, useful activity, rather than experience the holiday as a single, frenzied, blowout day that is over all too soon. A peaceful Advent full of simple pleasures and togetherness is what they’ll remember later, not the package-ripping and specific, expensive gifts. We wrote this e-book with the intent of helping families create a thoughtful, heartfelt approach to the holidays, with less rushing commercialism and more togetherness time.

Advent Mosaic 10 x 3

This mosaic is a peek at what’s in our Advent and St. Nicholas Festival E-Book. Click on the title  or any of these photos to be taken to the full description of the e-book contents and place to buy it, on the Little Acorn Learning store. Many thanks for reading this far, and for spreading the word to anyone who might be interested in our offering.

Blessings of the season on you and your loved ones!

Saint Martin Chant

N and Asher

Monday is Martinmas. I’m planning on taking the kids out for a nighttime walk, to take in the cold November night and remember how grateful we are for our many blessings of warmth and safety, full bellies, friendship and light. In the spirit of generosity, I share my little poem with you.

Saint Martin Chant

© by moi, Sara E. Wilson

Into the night, we bravely go!
Within our lanterns a sprightly glow,
Within our hearts a kingly flow
Of sharing and loving to show.

Into the world, we boldly walk,
Singing our courage around the clock.
We listen to others as much as we talk.
Even in darkness, we never do balk.

In giving to others, we ourselves grow.
Thanks to Saint Martin, by giving we know
We reap so much more than ever we sow.
We march for the good, our spirits aglow.

Lantern for Lucas

Beeswax Lanterns

This poem was written originally for Little Acorn Learning’s November Enrichment Guide, which happens to be on sale at the moment at $19.99—$5 off the normal price. Among many other wonderful offerings for the month of November, this e-book features stories of peace and light, lantern songs, and a puppet show for Martinmas.




I am the Sun—
And I bear with my might
The earth by day, the earth by night.
I hold her fast, and my gifts bestow
To everything on her, so that it may grow:
Man and stone, flower and bee,
All receive their light from me.
Open thy heart, dear child, to me,
That we together one light may be.

—Ch. Morgenstern

King Sun he climbs the summer sky
Ascending ever higher.
He mounts his gay midsummer throne,
All made of golden fire.

His flowing mantle, flowing free,
His shining gifts he showers
All golden on the earth and sea,
On men and beasts and flowers.

—J. Aulie

Two poems for this day, this beautiful awe-inspiring day that I have come to appreciate more and more. Somehow, for me this day is full of magic and hope and possibility.

The solstice is the peak moment of the year, the explosion of light and growth. It is the tippy-top of the year’s roller coaster’s path. On the summer solstice we feel an expansion of spirit, the exhalation of breath, and precious moments of busy, joyful living that somehow include relaxation and fun as its top priorities. It doesn’t even seem to matter how much work there is to do, or whether we sit in a cubicle or attend summer classes or dig ditches—this sky-splitting, star-bursting longest day has a kind of dreamy half-remembering quality, a laziness, a whisper that seems to say, “Take heed! The moment is NOW. Don’t miss it! Revel!”

And somehow, people seem to hear it. No other time of year feels this way. Midsummer is special. Spend it however you will, but LIVE IT.

This year, I am realizing a longtime dream of gathering many of my beloved friends in the woods this weekend. I’m hoping for a solstice bonfire and feast to make the gods proud. We will splash and play and get our feet dirty.

And because I feel if there’s ever an instant when magic is real and wishes come true, it is on Midsummer night. And so, here is my wish:

May we grow and flourish, may our roots dig deep and may our minds reach for the illuminating sun.
May we expand our consciousness to include others in our sphere of concern—and not just our loved ones, but also the strangers we interact with every day and all those people on the other side of the world whom we will never meet.
May we learn to see beauty everywhere, for it is there if only we look. Even struggles and tragedy have a kind of beauty.
May we seek to alleviate the suffering of all beings, even ourselves.
May we strive, even though we sometimes fail, and may we fail big and fast to maximize our learning and increase our compassion.
May we hold to our values, but never allow our ideas to petrify.
May we appreciate all that we are with every inhalation, and all that we have with every exhalation.
May we play, and laugh, and hug, and kiss, and dance, and sing—because for what other purpose are we here?
May we love with all our hearts until our flesh becomes one with the earth.
Blessed be.

Happy Solstice!



This Moment: Signs


Spring is coming! I see signs of it everywhere. Bud are swelling on trees, the earliest magnolia in my neighborhood is starting to flower, my bulbs are coming up, there’s baby peeps for sale at the feed store, jonquils are blooming, and my Leghorn hen (who is positively elderly) has started laying again.


In February there are days,
Blue, and nearly warm,
When horses switch their tails and ducks
Go quacking through the farm.
When everything turns round to feel
The sun upon its back—
When winter lifts a little bit
And spring peeks through the crack.
—Dorothy Aldis

Happy Imbolc!


(photo from Imbolc celebration 2007 by Mark Kelly; used with permission)

Today is the Celtic fire festival of Imbolc, which is so deliciously wrapped up also in the Catholic festival of Candlemas, the Irish Saint Brigit, and the goddess Brigid, who is the Celtic Triple Goddess. I find all these synchronicities and conflations of culture, myth, ritual, and worship to be fascinating.

Imbolc welcomes the warming sun, ushering it back into the world so that spring may come. It’s said that if Imbolc (and Groundhog Day, which is tomorrow, February 2) is sunny and bright, winter will hold on a good long while. If the day is sunny, then the Gaelic divine hag, the Cailleach, can gather plenty of firewood for an extended winter. If the day is stormy, then she’ll sleep in and the winter will end sooner because she will run out of firewood.

The goddess Brigid is associated with fire, with early spring, and is the patroness of poetry, smithing, medicine, arts and crafts, cattle and other livestock. Her symbols include arrows, bells, thresholds, and doorways. Several animal correspondences are also tied to Brigid, particularly ewes, dairy cows, bees, owls, and serpents. (Thank you, Wikipedia, that will do.)

Today I learned that Saint Brigid was a patroness of students, and also founded a school of art, including metal work and illumination. She is known as Saint Brigit of Kildare, or Brigit of Ireland (variants include Brigid, Bridget, Bridgit, Bríd and Bride), and was nicknamed Mary of the Gael.

She’s awesome, right?


(photo from St. Joseph Catholic Church in Macon, Georgia)

Two years ago we were able to have a lovely family Imbolc celebration, which I blogged about here. This year we have been very busy with preparing for Asher’s sixth birthday, and his birthday party is happening tomorrow on February 2. I honestly don’t think I have much in me for Imbolc this year, except to quietly observe it and take comfort in knowing that winter is now halfway over. We are closer to spring now, and that’s a joy and comfort.

My hope for tonight is simple because I need a rest. Glass of wine. Fire in our fireplace. A little crafting to finish up for tomorrow’s party. Maybe over the weekend we’ll roll some new beeswax candles to light our home and warm our hearts. We’ll take it slow, and if candle-making happens, great. If not, that’s OK too. For me, this is a festival of home and hearth, and snuggling in with our beloveds.

In honor of Brigid’s association with poetry, I offer a poem I wrote for children last year. OK, don’t laugh.

joseph Farquharson
(“Beneath The Snow Encumbered Branches” by Joseph Farquharson, 1903)

Wool Dreaming

Shepherd, shepherd,
Tend your sheep
In the snowy yard.
Rams and ewes, heavy with lambs,
Endure the winter’s cold.

Shepherd, shepherd,
Take good care
Of charges in your fold.
Their wool will be a comfort
To newborn, young, and old.

Shepherd, shepherd,
Feed them well
That their fleece grows soft and fine.
I would like wool warmth to wear
All through the wintertime.

—by moi, Sara E. Wilson

  • About Sara

    Thanks for visiting! I’m Sara, editor and writer, wife to Ian, and mother of two precious boys. I am living each day to the fullest and with as much grace, creativity, and patience as I can muster. This is where I write about living, loving, and engaging fully in family life and the world around me. I let my hair down here. I learn new skills here. I strive to be a better human being here. And I tell the truth.

    Our children attend Waldorf school and we are enriching our home and family life with plenty of Waldorf-inspired festivals, crafts, and stories.

    © 2003–2018 Please do not use my photographs or text without my permission.

    “Love doesn’t just sit there like a stone; it has to be made, like bread, remade all the time, made new.” —Ursula K. LeGuinn

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