We have a traditional celebration called Pyanepsia, which is adapted from an ancient Greek festival. It is one of my favorite holidays of the year because it brings my darlings together for an evening of community, food, and thanksgiving. It’s a festival in honor of the changing of the seasons, from the outer to the inner, from the light into the darkness.

We use heaps of bay laurel.

We feast on fine foods, bean stews, and wine.

We make candles.

This year, we dipped autumn leaves in beeswax to preserve them. Why not, when we were making candles anyway?

We make a giant communal eirisione, hung with wool and trinkets, evidence of our many blessings, in the hopes we will continue to be so blessed. Many thanks to our gracious hosts. xoxo

We have owned this treasure of a book by Jonathan London for a number of years. It is more than a Thanksgiving book and I realize we should read it more often because it’s not just a seasonal story, although the setting is clearly autunn. The paintings are by Gregory Manchess, who is, according to the book jacket, a self-taught artist. (Wow!)

A father and son take a walk in the woods. The father says “thank you” to all the wonders he encounters along the way, leading his son by example. There is no plot; just a nature walk.

“Thank you, Mother Earth. Thank you, Father Sky. Thank you for this day.”

“Like his Indian friends—singers and storytellers—Dad believes that the things of nature are a gift. And that in return, we must give something back. We must give thanks.”

I like the message of this book, which dovetails so beautifully with Waldorf education’s attitude of reverence: That nature is valuable even in its smallest expression, such as the “tiny beings with six or eight legs, weaving their tiny stories close to the earth.” That we are privileged to witness and walk among the plants and creatures of our earth. That we should be grateful for all the beauty and opportunity nature provides. And that gratitude is a practice—something that we work at and nourish within us. It makes you feel good.

We’ll call this a tutorial, shall we? Here’s a super easy project that Lucas and I made together in about 40 minutes today. You could easily have one or several of these ready for Thanksgiving Day, if you’re still wondering how to decorate for the holiday. The cost of this project was about $2. This garland works best hanging straight, with the ribbon flat against a wall surface, counter edge, or the like. I bought 1 inch purple ribbon at the craft store weeks ago. Any color you like will do nicely. Find, gather, and press beautiful fallen leaves. Go for a walk through your yard or neighborhood. Notice all the colors and different types of deciduous trees in your area and pick up the ones that still feel fresh—the ones that haven’t yet started to dry and curl up. I do this constantly because I adore autumn leaves. Some are so beautiful they make me tear up. I looked for variety in type of leaf, size, and color. Any leaves that strike your fancy are the right ones to collect! Pull that old paper phone book out of the closet or mud room. Or maybe a new one was recently delivered to your driveway. I have no use for a paper phone book other than this: Put your collected leaves in the pages, in a single layer. Leave a few pages in between each page with leaves. Cram as many into the phone book as you like. Weight the phone book down with something very heavy, like a big stack of books or a cast-iron pot. Wait two to four days. Pull out your scissors, ribbon, and glue gun. Make sure you have glue sticks (I often don’t). Carefully remove your very flat leaves from the phone book.

Tape your ribbon to your table so it doesn’t slide around. Glue pressed leaves on the ribbon in a jaunty way. Vary their colors, shapes, and sizes as you like, or make a garland of all one type, if that’s your style. Maybe you like the look of all the leaves “pointing” in the same direction. Maybe you like them arranged sort of haphazardly. If you’re not sure, lay them down a few different ways until you decide what you like and only then start gluing. If you use big leaves, your project will go even quicker.

Any child who is old enough to operate a glue gun can help with this. Only a drop or two is needed to fix each leaf to the ribbon.

The hardest part of this is hanging the garland. It is fragile, and you may need an extra pair of hands to hold it while you fix it to the wall, either with tape or thumb tacks (I used both).

Pretty, no? Well I like it. I like that it was cheap. I like that it was easy. I like that we have brought some of those gorgeous leaves into my home. And I really like that Lucas and I made it together.

The sunlight fast is dwindling,
My little lamp needs kindling,
Its beam shines far in darkest night
Dear Lantern guard me with your light.

Last night’s Martinmas lantern walk with Asher’s preschool friends was so magical. We had a sit-down dinner of homemade soup, salad, bread, and pumpkin pie. It was wonderful to get to better know the other families whose children attend the school.

An angel lighted the children’s lanterns with a spark from heaven.

Then we walked through the neighborhood with our lanterns shining brightly.

The kids were so excited to be walking through the night and their exuberance and jumping about caused many candles to blow out. (Thank goodness Ian brought a lighter along! He’s a veteran of several such preschoolers-with-fire events.)

When we returned we followed a path lit by stars and met Mother Earth in the garden, who gave the children precious gifts to plant in the ground. She told us to guard our light and keep it safe through the darkness of the winter.

Today is a very full day. We are attending Lucas’s third-grade Eurythmy performance of The Firebird this afternoon. We are also attending a Martinmas potluck and lantern walk with Asher’s preschool this evening. Both of these events are happy and exciting. Both are dampened by my grief over Nana’s death yesterday.

Part of me would like for everything to feel normal. A part of me thinks it’s crazy to be normal—working on freelance projects, worrying about deadlines, arranging babysitting, and attending school functions—at a time like this. But, of course, life goes on.

And isn’t that a miracle?

In the midst of a busy and rich life, we pause to grieve. In the midst of a sad time, we snatch moments of elation and joy, pride and comfort to buoy us up. There is a symmetry there, a balance.

Both darkness and light.

I don’t know what to think or feel, but lighting a candle seemed right.

It hardly feels much like November, with so many recent days over 70 degrees!

Wild grape leaves in the woods near the Sacramento Waldorf School

Swan at the Palace of Fine Arts Theater in San Francisco

Lucas with the golden cherry leaves in our yard

Neighborhood tree in the morning

The blackest liquidambar leaves I’ve ever seen. The boys and I found these at Fair Oaks Park.

A fallen tree star (also liquidambar) in Asher’s hand

Scarlet dogwood berries; little black and gray birds are eating them up

A neighbor’s lawn

The crepe myrtle that hangs into my backyard.

I’ve been telling Asher a little story about the autumn here and there, when the moment is right and we’re in the mood to imagine.

When the weather becomes cool and mornings reveal frosty lawns or low-lying gray fog,

the trees prepare for the Autumn Ball by changing into their fanciest party dresses.

They put on gowns of glowing golds, brilliant scarlet, warm russets, and rich browns. They must get very fancy, for it will be their last party for a good long while.

They put on fine jackets of velvet and place gold crowns on their heads.

They shine up their boots and rouge their cheeks.

And together they whirl and swirl, dancing through the night under the stars, dancing while they greet the morning, dancing long into the midday sunshine, dancing even when it’s time for the little children to lay down their heads in the evening.

The trees sway to the music of the good earth, turning turning, shining and spinning in their fancy clothes and until at last they tire.

Soon they must disrobe and go to sleep through the long, cold winter. They must slumber and rest after such a glorious Autumn, and will spend the dark winter dreaming of the enchanting party they attended in November, when the winds blew through their beautiful ruffles and silken leaves as they danced the month away.

They will sleep until it’s time to wake and don new green clothes in Spring.

I stand here, quietly gaping. Not too close, but neither am I uninvolved in what my son is doing in school these days. I watch with eagerness, hoping for glimpses into his life away from home, where he is encountering challenges both familiar to me and also completely alien. I listen with keen interest to every morsel he brings home and chooses to share. I am talking about my son’s experience of third grade at his Waldorf school.

In past years I have describe his school and its curriculum as “magical” or “enchanting.” It still is that, but this year it has taken on a new quality—a feet-on-earth quality that is serving to ground him and build him up in confidence and competence.

I will try to illustrate what I mean.

In third grade, the children study gardening. They will do so throughout their Waldorf lower school grades, but gardening is emphasized this year in particular. They are also studying ancient Hebrew culture and also cooking. To tie all of these together, they have harvested fruits and vegetables on the school farm, made soup from the harvest, built a sukkah (hut), and celebrated the Hebrew festival of Sukkot by eating in the sukkah. They are also learning songs in Hebrew. It used to be rare for Lucas to sing for us at home songs he learned at school. Now he swells with pride to sing in Hebrew a song about beating swords into ploughshares so that nations will go to war no more and that people can grow their vines and fig trees instead, which is taken from this Bible passage:

“They shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks.
Nation shall not take up sword against nation, they shall never again know war.
But they shall sit every one under their vines and fig trees,
and none shall make them afraid.” (Micah 4.3-4)

Recently, they made bread in cooking class. But like the Little Red Hen, they really MADE THE BREAD. They cut down the stalks of wheat that they themselves sowed last year in second grade. Then they threshed the grain. Then they winnowed to separate the grain from the chaff. Then they ground the wheat to make flour. And only then, did they make and eat their bread.

Do you see why this boggles me?

Right now they are in the midst of a building block. This is a key element to the third-grade curriculum. Their class is going to rebuild and expand the school’s Oak Stage, an outdoor stage set in the woods on the school grounds near the American River that was getting a little too rickety. The children demolished the stage last week and together moved 8 tons of river rock! (Many hands make light work.) They poor cement tomorrow, barring rain. They will place their handprints into the foundation of the stage they are building for the school. Next week they will be measuring, sawing, hammering, building both the stage and their own skills.

In the classroom and in the kitchen (which are the same this year), they are learning about measurement, too. Tying in with their language arts study of the Old Testament and the Hebrews, they have learned how big a cubit is (debatable, but roughly the length of the forearm from elbow to tip of middle finger—about 18 inches), and that Noah’s Ark was 300 cubits long. Today they went out to the school’s field, rulers in hand, and measured out the size of the Ark, to see for themselves how big it might have been. “That’s 450 feet long, mom!” They are also learning about spans, fathoms, yards, and feet, experiencing these concepts in their own limbs.

“Firmly on the earth I stand.”

I conned Ian into taking Monday, November 1st off work. Lucas’s school is not in session the day after Halloween. Some clever administrator or teacher realized that it’s not wise to try to keep kids under control after a late night and sugary treats. We pulled Asher out of preschool for the day and took a little drive.

We were determined to squeeze a bit more fun out of our weekend. We were celebrating Day of the Dead, in our own way, and Lucas’s half birthday. He is now officially 8 and a half years old. Day of the Dead or All Souls’ Day has never been a holiday in our two families, but since it marks Lucas’s half birthday, it has come to hold a special place in our year.

We decided that a trip to Apple Hill would be the perfect seasonal family outing, and with a little research, Ian found a very nice old cemetery to visit in gold country, Near Latrobe, California. Bryant Cemetery was established in 1848.

We wandered about and read the headstones, wondering about the lives of the pioneers who came out west and lived in California during the gold rush and the years following. We saw that many families’ were buried together, and that the people often died young. We tried to put into perspective for Lucas how long ago that was: no cars, people used horses and carts to travel, they would have carried water from rivers and streams, and so on.

This is Asher pretending to be a dead person.

The cemetery was small and quiet, shaded with beautiful valley oak trees. Some were dropping giant acorns quite near us!

This oak looked like it had quite a story to tell! We enjoyed our exploration and contemplation … until we got hungry.

Then we headed for lunch in Placerville and from there up to High Hill Ranch in Apple Hill. It’s a pretty big farm, with lots of room for the kids to run about. (I wish their pony rides weren’t $6 a ride, though! We opted to skip them.)

We shopped for yummy apples and came home with a big bag full of Fujis, Jona Golds, Galas, and Golden Delicious.

I don’t remember ever seeing these Arkansas Black apples before. They were so beautiful!

There is a fish pond at High Hill Ranch; you can pay to fish for trout, which you can clearly see in the water. Poor Lucas! His parents are too cheap. The kids loved sitting on this water cannon that spilled water into the pond.

We also bought caramel apples for the boys to eat—Asher’s first. He never made it to the apple, I’m afraid. Mama and Daddy ate apple pie. Mmm…

Lucas took the opportunity to somersault and roll down the grassy hillside. Monday is a great day to go—no big crowds!

Then we drove a bit more around Apple Hill, looking at the farms and orchards full of fruit and nut trees. We stopped at Bill’s Apples and Felice’s Dolls, where they have a spectacular flower garden. (They claim 3000 chrysanthemums!) It was a beautiful final stop, for some of us were getting moody. Perhaps that caramel apple sugar rush wore off?

Happy half birthday, my sweet son. I am so pleased we had this gorgeous Family Day all together.

Breaking the rules here to explain that my son was being contemplative in the cemetery, not mourning a loved one. He was having a quiet moment with his own thoughts.

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.