Luckybeans

Sometimes

Sometimes, you know, I struggle with headaches. Migraine-type affairs, with headrushes and blurred vision. But usually I can manage them with plenty of rest and fluids and ibuprofen. Anyway, today was one of those days. So I went back to bed for a bit. And then I tried to mow the back lawn, but the mower broke halfway through. I came in and took some more ibuprofen and put together a power poitn presentation on a linguistics paper from last term which I am meant to present next week.

And then I had had enough.

So.

I went to the hill with my camera and my water bottle, and I decided to walk very slowly and breathe very deeply and just watch and listen.

There was only one other car when I arrived, a very enthusiastic birder. He went one way, so I went the other.

I stopped often. I walked as quietly as I could. 

Butterflies settled to sip from the gravel around my feet.

Bumblebees tumbled in and out of the tiny trumpets sweet with nectar.

Flowers the size of ladybird heads blossomed into tiny pink stars.

The lupine was blooming.

The meadowfoam smelled sweet, blown up across warm grass between old oaks.

Everything was humming, buzzing, twittering, calling, all loud and alive. Crickets, grasshoppers, bees, flies, dragonflies, meadowlarks, robins, sparrows-- more birds than I could hope to identify. As I walked into the maple forest, I heard a nest of woodpecker babies incessently calling. It took me a long time to figure out what the noise was.

At first I thought it was an alarm call or someone telling me just what they thought of me. But eventually, I traced the sound to hole far up in a wild cherry tree, where a mama came and went every five minutes or so.

I always find it amazing how much there is to find when I slow down and take the time just to settle in and be in a place.

Suspended caterpillars floating through the air.

Illumined leaves.

Oak galls laced in spider's silk.

And little birds peeping out here

and there

and everywhere

and scolding (had he followed me from home just to scold me so?)

and warbling such sweet songs I thought there could be nothing better.

I even saw this fine fellow sitting and watching me on his mossy trunk. It was not a matter of being fast enough to get a picture after all.

It was funny, you know, walking along. There are certain bends and twists that remind me so of Michiru. My heart leaps. I found myslef weighing the pros and cons of walking in the African bush and an Oregon trail. It is true that I do not keep an eye out for hyenas, snakes or baboon troupes here. I do however, keep a sharp eye on all of that poison oak and stinging nettle. And at the end of the day, I can honestly say I have never suffered at the hands (or what-have-you) af the African wildlife, but I currently have a bottle of calydryl on my bedside table due to an unfortunate run-in with poison oak (I've no idea when, where or how) last weekend. 

The pretty flowers make up for it, of course, but I do not dare to stray from the path here.

Having this fellow waiting to bid me adieu by the car never hurts, either.

I must also confess to a strange occurance. As I was leaving, half a dozen cars arrived. Each person emerged carrying a large camera (some with tripods) and asked me if I had seen the Western Tanagers. Had I managed a photo? I must have been a bit slow in responding, baffled as I was. Eventually I recalled that yes, I had seen them, and yes I had gotten a photo as well (it's the second bird, if you're interested).

It did make me unspeakably grateful to have arrived that much earlier and to have seen so very much more besides.

My headache never did beat a full retreat, but somehow it hasn't mattered all that much.

 

 

What We Did

Which, as you no doubt know by now, could be the title of any one of the posts here. 

Friday saw us eating watermelon on the back porch, Ana in her new "Star Wars characters crossing Abbey Road" tshirt, bought with her own pocket money.

I also stayed up late finishing a novel that I read purely for pleasure. It felt terribly decadent.

Saturday morning saw the usual rounds: chores (Asher filled the kitchen with Bon Ami to a depth of 1cm. I am still wiping it off of every surface), children's classes, farmer's market, and me to the bakery for a coffee, rice pudding and lab report. The rice pudding was delictible; the lab report not nearly so palatable.

Asher spent part of the afternoon playing with his friend, and then I rounded up all of the children and convinced them that we must Get Out as it was the last rain-free day in the foreseeable forecast. 

Before we even left the parking area, Bella had us busy gathering wild chamomile.

Am I the only one who finds old cemetaries peaceful and soothing? Surely not. We like to pause quietly here for a few minutes, admiring the old stones and fences, wondering who has come to rest here.

As we headed into the forested bit, the birds were positively raucous! I did wish I could have recorded the constant singing surrounding us. The cow parsley was in full strength, towering over us. I also found licorice-root fern to add to our chamomile for tea.

The stream was rushing and cold and clear. I was astonished to find we were the only ones there. The children paddled and waded and splooshed rocks. I only had to issue one reminder for them to be kind to one another, and they were off and so very busy and contented.

We stopped for snack and found mint to add to our tea as well.

 

The walk back through the forest was just as lovely as the way in. Chipmunks kept darting back and forth across the path, but I am never fast enough to catch them in a photo. I spied thimbleberry bushes in full flower that we will have to visit again, a farm building peeking through, dappled light through maple canopy and a boy flitting between mossy tree trunks.

We had to stop on the way home to pick some rose petals (Ana's insistance).

There is much more to share, but I will do that when I have a bit more time again. I am grateful we had such a lovely afternoon yesterday-- it is pouring rain now.

Some of you may have noticed that I am now on Instagram. I tend to use it out on weekends, and am keeping it private for now. I do post my favourites here, though!

 

Important Things

Somewhat random, albeit. 

The girls have a new AP Environmental Science book. They are thrilled. They came home and spent two hours doing exercises from it the first day. Would that i had their enthusiasm for my text books.

We discovered Netflix has Tintin cartoons on instant play, which grants a much-needed reprieve from Sgt Frog.

The barn is down next door, but the garden trellises are up.

And perhaps most importantly of all, Asher had his spring music performance at school. He was the wolf in Peter and the Wolf!

He got to play the much-coveted mini-bongos which are both everyone's favourite and had the trickiest rhythms to follow. He did an excellent job. He has always had a deep sense of rhythm, and I think his years of listening to African drums (sometimes all. night. long. ahem) served him well. I was very proud, and so was he. It was great fun watching him play, as he was so intensely focused. He did not look at me or smile once, intently watching the teacher for cues or his drums. With his spiky hair, he looked a bit intimidating, really (that is especially funny in light of what we did on our way home-- hold on a minute).

First, we inspected the stream that runs past the school. They do a lot of habitat restoration work here in conjunction with OSU, and consistantly find salmon fry in it. This year they tested the cleanliness and found it extremely clean-- safe to drink even! This is exciting as we are in an agricultural area with many potential non-point pollution sources). 

Then we stopped to investigate a spring near the road. Such sweet water! We want to come back with bottles to collect some.

And to take photos of the beautiful wild irises.

And to run in this field of meadow foam, in the golden haze of light heavy with the hum of bees. The flowers smell light and fragrant, and oh! it is magical. He does not appear quite so intimidating in this context, does he? Incredibly silly, yes, the both of them.

Also, the poppies are blooming.

And the Japanese maple has leafed out, forming the perfect cavern to tuck yourself into with a book and not mention just where you have gone (especially when it is creeping close to bedtime, you are at an exciting bit, and it is still both warm and light out).

 

 

Happy Day

I really must stop waking up at 5:30 on the few mornings when I can sleep in. I would blame the sunshine, but I love it so, I cannot bear to balme it for anything.

Asher popped up not too long afterwards and very sweetly asked if he could make me toast. 

We spent today visiting my mum and dad. We do not generally celebrate Mother's day, but this year was a bit different. My mother is often difficult to get presents for (well, that may not be true-- I am generally very bad at finding gifts for people!), but this year I found the perfect thing: a set of Jane Austen Penguin Classics. So of course we had to celebrate.

We paddled in fountains and found newts.

Climbed the old tree.

Wandered through flowers.

Tried to remember all fifty states,

Found my old "Poppet and Dear One" book I made ten years ago.

Had a picnic.

Read inside and outside (until he finished "The Sorcerer's Stone").

Remembered books that made us cry.

Wandered home again...

... and stopped to admire the slowly sinking, golden glowing sun, before we made our way to our beds, and are now doing our best to get to sleep in a warm, not so very dark, night.

 

 

The Rest of the Week in High and Low Lights

Wednesday afternoon, poor Ana had a panic attack at school. She has never had one before, and it was not dealt with very well. The staff with her were lovely, but they took her word that she was ok, and put her on the bus home. She wasn't ok, and when I finally managed to get to her, she was in a lot of distress. But I know how to handle stress. Tea! Well yes, breathing properly, but tea does seem to fix most things. We were also pleased to find spectacular post from daddy (maps and stories and letters) and a beautiful Ridvan gift. The panic attack was alarming, but seemed to be in response to physical stress and pain,and we now know how to deal with it and what to expect next time. Still, I kept her home with me Thursday to make sure.

Friday afternoon and all day Saturday were heavy-duty gardening days. Things are growing so swiftly: the lily of the valley and tiny star flowers are blooming in the woodland bed, the artichokes are appearing, the kale and winter carrots and beets all had to be pulled out.

Early Saturday morning, the garden club had their yearly sale. For $24, I bought 3 ferns, 3 solomon's seal, 3 columbine, 2 red currants, a violet and a snowball bush. Thank heavens Mum came down shortly! We got it all planted (except for the snowball bush), the vegetable beds uncovered (except for the one corner reserved for the tadpoles), new carrots and beets sown, two sinks full of kale to deal with, two hanging baskets up, the catmint in, and the thyme redistributed between the freshly weeded flagstones. The children helped a lot, too. Especially Asher! Although he kept disappearing to lie down on the warm gravel between the beds.

We got to eat some of the fruits (vegetables) of our labour, too, which is always good.

Saturday evening we went to a friend's concert of Leonard Bernstein music (he is part of the master chorus). It was great fun, with wonderful music! The children were completely engrossed, and Asher got to inspect the kettle drums during intermission. Ana had to come home and pratice her guitar despite it being past bedtime.

Today we spent a slower morning folding laundry and playing tiddly-winks. Tacos for lunch. Then Mum had to head home to visit Dad and the children and I went to Philomath for Ruhi Book 5. We stopped on our way to pick up things for a picnic dinner afterwards, though. I love that my children are adventerous eaters: baguette, sheep's milk cheese, watercress, tangerines, ginger beer, sweet potato crisps and almond pastries. Yes please.

We stopped by the wetlands on the way home. What a glorious place! 

The children dabbled and explored and discovered and ran back and forth to their hearts' content. The sun was warm and the birds were singing continuously. Especially the redwinged blackbirds.

We had our picnic supper closer to home. The park was an absolute sea of daisies. Bella showed Asher how to make a chain. She is a bit of a funny one, that Bella.

 

Updates From Here and There

The good news is that I did not get lost on this week's hike. It was a sedate affair over well-known hills with pauses to admire the chipmunks or trout lilies or mushrooms, and to listen to the meadowlarks.

Yesterday we attended the neighbouring county's historical farm festival that focused on plowing with teams of draught horses and mules. I did some observation for my anthropology class, and took many photos-- more on that later this week as I get it organised.

There were momentary pauses for dandelion blowing, a visit to grandparents, and the first visit for ice cream of the year.

This morning we are catching up with household chores before plunging into the inevitable busy-ness of this life that seems to be ours.

Wishing you all well, friends.

Not What I Anticipated

By the end of the week it is always good to do something a bit different, out of the ordinary, perhaps even (somewhat) adventurous. Today I convinced Simon we really ought to go for a hike as the sky was (mostly) blue and the weather (almost) warm. We set off to the nearby forest, where he has run before. We decided to take the same trail and I would simply follow along behind him and we would meet back at the car.

It was a lovely sort of day. The trillium was in bloom, and these sweet flowers almost were.

Lots of foresty bits. You know.

I kept walking briskly along, not wanting to keep him waiting for too long. He had told me I would reach the peak, and when I did I would definitely know it was the peak. And that is where it all went a bit wrong. You see, the reason I was meant to know that it was definitely the peak was because there was a big map posted there, not because it was particularly peak-ish. Except he forgot to mention about the map, so I was looking for a lofty vista. The other thing he forgot to mention was that he didn't actually follow the trail all the way, but switched onto the logging road at the big posted map. So I reached the map, located the trail number, and dutifully tramped onward.

It was still a lovely afternoon, you understand.

More flowers.

I passed this spot, thought "Oh, a warthog's been here," laughed at myself and carried on.

Spied a delicate mushroom.

I composed lyrical, insightful sorts of things in my head. And then I began to realise that I had been walking (briskly) for an awfully long time. And I recalled Simon saying something about the trail "turning into a road," and I had definitely not noticed this happening at all. Although I did recall that there had been a road way back at that big map. But that had definitely not been part of this clearly labelled trail. 

Then my clearly labelled trail became a different one and I was in the thick of logging territory, and I began to suspect that things were not quite as they should be. This three mile loop had gone on for much longer than that, and I had still not encountered anything familiar.

I also thought that I might have heard some growly-noises in the bushes. I was still and quiet and listened very hard, but I did not hear them again. What I did hear was a loud, booming, exploding sort of noise that I hoped came from the lumber-jack-games-yard (no, I cannot explain that for you, sorry) near to where our car was parked. After walking ever more briskly forward for a very long time, I did indeed find myself near the lumber-jack-games-yard, but was baffled to rediscover that the trail Simon had indicated I ought to take had reappeared and was pointing most counter-intuitively back up a parallel logging road. So I followed it.

All the way back up the bloody hill (small mountain, really). Briskly. But when I reached the top I knew I was facing the wrong direction and that this trail of his was patently ridiculous. I smartly about-faced, briskly walked back to the bottom of the road where I had begun, ignored all signs, and followed my own innate sense of direction.

I arrived back at the car exhausted and (so I have been told) scowling. Oddly, I did not take any more pictures after the delicate mushroom.

I know it is good to get out a bit and certainly to break one's routine. However, I have decided to never ever ever again rely on word-of-mouth directions when embarking on hikes alone in the forest.

At any rate, I shall certainly sleep well tonight. Although I doubt I will be going anywhere terribly briskly on these wobbly legs tomorrow. Remind me to take an ibuprofen at bedtime, dear. Thank you.

 

 

100% chance

It has done nothing but rain, and with a new storm system overhead, there is nothing but rain promised for the next week (that 100% chance holds through Tuesday at least). I feel a bit like a broken record, complaining about the rain, but I think this is because I am quite shocked by just how deeply the lack of sun affects me. it isn't that I truly mind the grey on one level, but then when the sun does come out, I am surprised by how much energy and optimism I suddenly possess. I have become a tropical sort of person, I suppose-- a greenhouse flower. And now I must go and research full spectrum lights to see if that will help carry me through.

This week passed in a blur of raindrops punctuated by a day trip to the (very cold and windy) coast, and another day trip to the water park courtesy of my mum. Oh my goodness, was that an experience! Sliding down into total darkness with no idea what to expect-- I couldn't even scream. It was absolutely packed, and we vowed that if we ever return, it would be on a day when we cut class and everyone else remained at school. I did not take any photos.  

We went for a picnic (with lots of tea-- everyone had their own flask).

Played with plastic bubbles.

Set up a rather plain nature table (it just seemed right).

And then today, trudging home from paying my tuition and loading up with the next round of text books, I noticed that really, everything looks quite lovely spangled with these drops of rain. It cannot rain forever. Can it?

 

 

And All Around, Brightness

Bright frost on clear mornings when I can hear the birds singing as we drink tea before we head to the bus stop.

 

Bright sun in the forest, on tender leaves, on still-verdant ferns.

 

Bright river glinting through the copse (the water is so cold, she says!).

 

Bright moon in the evening while frogs call and we snuggle into bed and read comic books or Dickens or Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie society or poems (the comics were mine).

 

Bright spring that edges slowly in and eases winter's dreary days.

And where would I be without these moments of brightness? Someplace very dim indeed, lost beneath the weight of obligation and expectation, spiraling ever inward and forgetting to look up and out, to laugh and delight and savor.

When I am my most exhausted, ugliest self, all the world and my own children conspire towards beauty, in the light of dappled flowers, the fluid wash of river, and the construction of a pile of dirt.

How could we survive if this were not so? What greater grace exists? Surely, if we are given this, we are blessed. Surely, we can find a place of this same grace within our own reserves and greet the grey dawn of tomorrow with a brightly shining face.

 

 

 

 

Where It All Stands

It snowed. Just two days ago, we woke up to a wet, white, slushy world.

And then it melted, and left us with those first promises that things will soon change again.

This arrived in the mail. It leaves me both delighted and Most Puzzled (who sent it? do tell!).

Today was a beautiful, balmy, blue sky, dig your toes in deep moss day. We revelled in it, drank it in. The earth is tilting. Warmth wil come again. We can see it in the greening and the very first tender growing, smell it in the dirt, hear it in the calls of birds and frogs.

Today I also wrote six pages for my linguistics class, and another three for literary analysis. It is the last two weeks of term now, and there are mountains of work to be done. I am trying to face it with grace. I am trying. A full day "off" is a distant three weeks away, if I keep abreast of it all.

But this moment right now I have a custard to remove from the oven to cool for breakfast, Ana is playing her guitar with her brother and sister singing along, and the children are waiting for me to finish this entry so that they can please watch the next episode of "Life on a Victorian Farm." Right now is all anyone can really ask for, isn't it?