Busha Full Of Grace

Child's Play

Children love everything. they just love to be active and explore new things. Today at Ruby Morning, after we chopped vegetables and made the soup, we spent hours and hours outside. It was such a warm, pleasant, pre-spring day. No shoes in the sandbox and seriously focused, happy children.

We also got out the hammer and nails and did some strongarm pounding. What I love is that children are as happy as can be just pounding nails for the pure act of pounding. No final product necessary. I've dedicated a large stump for just this.

Later in the afternoon after naptime, we decided to bake some shortbread cookies. We even grated the whole nutmeg for the 1/2 teaspoon we needed for the recipe, and used fresh cream, straight from the cow to us in a mason jar. I didn't have any cookie presses, so we improvised with the bottom of one of our snack cups.

And what did we do next? We enjoyed cookies and rice milk out at the picnic table!

You Look Wonderful Tonight

I stopped at the market on the way home from school. As I was putting the groceries in my car I saw this sky:

Beautiful. And then, as if that wasn't enough, when I was walking in my front door this was the sight from my front porch. You really must click on it to make it bigger and experience every hue..the lavender, vermillion and shades of pink:

What a wonderful ending to a wonderful day.

What Do We Call Her?

Karina asked, "So if she doesn't have a name what do you call her?"

We call her Precious, and Petunia, and Sassyfras, and Little Girl, and Love Bug, and Little Love, and Cutie Pie, and Sweet Thing, and Pocahontas and...and...and...

What I can tell you for sure is she is one of us. The little maiden of our clan. Initiated. Belonging to. Welcomed. Blessed.

Cafe Les Jumelles and the Glistening Greeness

I'm home from my restful weekend. As it turned out, the house was several miles from the beach in the redwood forest. It was so cold and rainly that we pretty much stayed close to our home away from home. Driving in on Thursday night we we're both really hungry. As we wound our way through the redwood highway, all we saw was one little restaurant that looked like a little old pizza parlor from the outside, and was empty on the inside. Not one customer, just a waiter with a long braid, a cook in the back in whole chef's regalia, and two young girls, around 12. While I asked for directions, Diane asked to see the menu. It looked like it had some interesting possibilities and we were both so hungry, we decided to stay. Well, good thing! It was delicious. De, lish, US. The chicken picata and steak medalions were mouth watering. Served with a buttery/garlicy mixture of red chard, beets and brocolli and two different styles of potatoes. I do believe we found a pearl in: Café Les Jumelles, a little chef-owned restaurant. 0391 Highway 116, Monte Rio;
T: 707-865-9500 I will go back there again. Not only was the food great, they were so very friendly.

The house was also more than lovely, amidst redwoods dripping with raindrops.

There was a hot tub bubbling out on the deck in the cold rain. Outside the front door, the Daphne was in bloom. Of course I pinched a few sprigs for inside. I love love love love love Daphne.

There were 3 woodstoves in this house and and a well built wood pile. The ambiance, the warmth, the good food and wine, all supported a lot of good visiting, laughter, reading, nature, and priceless, timeless hours.

There's much to be said for traveling light. When I go away I really think about what I want to bring. I think it has something to do with maintaining a household since I was 17. It is so calming and grounding for me to travel with only what I need, unpacking and organizing my little space of all my most desired personal things of the moment. I know where everything is and it is simple to keep it tidy.

On the other hand, that is why I have so many duplicate knitting needles. When I limit myself to one road project, I better be darn sure that it is ready to go. Because, like this weekend, when you realize your needles are just too small to achieve the drape of the fabric you want with a particular yarn, it's the purchase of more needles that you know you already have at home, or, no knitting. Since I couldn't find a nearby knitting store, I was stuck with the latter.

As I sign off to go knit, I am full up with the beauty of nature, good friends and family. It was just what I needed. And with this photo I ask, is the ivy clinging to the giant redwood, or, is the redwood offering its support to the ivy?

Someone's Been Sleeping in My Bed....

and here she is! All cozied down on Busha's bed.

Here is a little wool wrapping blanket I knitted for her. I used the same yarn that I used on the boy's hats, only in bulky weight for this blanket. I followed the pattern exactly, and the blanket is so small that Shannon thought it was a joke. This little thing took forever! Now Shannon says it's a perfect size for so many uses.

I had the boys earlier in the afternoon yesterday, for a few hours while their mamas went shopping. When the boys are here, the front door is thrown wide open and they are out and about in the "forest" of my yard. In winter, the roses are pruned and that's about it. The rest grows green and lush, wild and unkempt, knee-deep for the boys in some places. It is a nature wonderland for little boys who can feel the whole world in one little backyard. A rich little ecosystem to explore. Bugs galore. The worm box is thriving. They love to peek into that slimy, glistening rich world. They long to pull out a worm or two, but in the end, we decide to leave them be.

Yesterday I taught them about the delicacy called "sour grass". I told them it has been around for ages (yes, even when I was little). They loved harvesting and crunching on this garden snack.

The lemon tree was SO full they picked a huge shopping bag full of organic Meyer lemons. They were "The Farmers" visiting their "aunt's farm" (a notion from a book we read together). They tugged and pulled until they fell to the ground and the tree started to lean. So then we learned the fun of twisting the lemon until it popped off.

They were so proud of themselves. The look between them here is priceless, as they deliver their sack of lemons to my door. I wish I could share with you the conversation I overheard as they carried this huge ton of lemons down the side yard from back to front of the house. The way they worked together, AND loved and hated each other a zillion times in that short walk.

There are a few lovely February things I spotted in my yard. Post rain color. The rosemary is flowering. The camelias as well.

They found the little toad and fairy garden that lives in the tiny shaded garden bed under my porch full of creatures too. They could hear the frog croaking...the elusive frog.

And back inside? Hot chicken soup with Kleuskis (Polish dumplings), just like my Busha used to make.

Today as I awoke it was dark again in my little neighborhood, a little more rain is falling. Yep, once again it's dark and wet and cold outside.

But my week of work is pretty well done. All I need to do is tidy up around here (one more time), take a warm bath, pack my bag, and wait for my cousin to arrive. She and I are headed out to a beach house for 4 days, where there is a fireplace and probably no phone reception. See you on Sunday!

The Things We Come To Know

Yesterday evening, when I was headed to our friends house for dessert, I had this realization. It was when I passed this certain house and its lights shone through the raised shades. In a brief glimpse I could see the old man and woman sitting at the dining table. These folks have no idea who I am, or that I have known them for years. Glimpses of their life fills me with familiarity which lends itself to security. I have been cognizant of these folks for at least 10 years. Every morning as I pass their house early on the way to school, the old guy is sitting at the dining table reading his paper. For some reason my olfactory memory always conjures up toasted bread and coffee. Every Christmas, they have decorations that are natural and understated. They live on a busy thoroughfare, but their life always disproves the rushing world on the outside. The world trying to get from here to there. Children with backpacks waiting for busses. The busy coffee shop across the street. The graffiti marking the nearby fence. This home boasts soft-lit warmth, time for introspection, tidy, half-mast blinds across the seven floor to ceiling picture windows, and a well-kept front yard behind a littered curb.

It's funny how these things punctuate our lives and give us direction. Things that pass through our consciousness so quickly and leave their mark on our entire day. The rain I hear in those moments between alarm clock and slippers, pinging through the rainpipe from the roof to the lawn that lets me know how to dress that day, rainy day activities I need to pull out of my bag of tricks for the children, and that Harry the Weiner Dog is probably going to do his business on the front porch when I let him out because he hates to get wet. A mental note to make time to clean it up before I leave. I knew all of that, all unspoken, within the *plink* of a few raindrops.

Or with parents in the school world. How one brief glance at their shoulder tells me the story of the morning. The remnants of tears and nose clinging to the fabric of their suit jacket or sweater lets me know so clearly, so unspoken, that their child needs some extra love today. Somewhere, for some reason, there was sadness in the morning. Sometimes they tell me. Sometimes I just know.

The coffee house. I can tell by a quick glance in the parking lot if I have time to stop that day or not. Tones of voice. Flashing looks. After the first month of school I can tell by the feel of a child's hand in mine who they are. Their laughs. Their cries from another room. I can feel in my bones when it's going to rain. I can smell autumn in the air. I can hear when my car needs oil.

This human thing is so amazing. I am so grateful for all these ways I am able to come to know.

Turnin' Round My Backside

I remember a single scene from an old cartoon when I was a kid, I can't remember if it was Looney Toons or Popeye or exactly where...but there was this wooden and rope contraption with a big old worn out boot on it, and it kicked characters in the butt. Today I sure need just such a contraption. I don't know if it's cause were back to rain and the heater is on, or if I'm overwhelmed with so much I don't know where to begin, but I need some motivation. So little is getting done so slowly. The computer and the knitting needles keep calling out my name. I keep turning my back on them. OK, except now. Friends are calling with invitations. Some in exasperation because I have been so busy. Seems like ya just can't keep all of the people happy all of the time. Sad thing is, I would love to do and see it all. I miss them too.

I did hire a new assistant today to provide 2 more eyes and 2 more hands. I'm still interviewing teachers. I have a couple of great possibilities. I haven't mentioned here on the blog that my other teacher isn't with me anymore. Her family was really needing her. But she did leave quite abruptly; I would have preferred a more gradual process. Oh well. Such is life, and all will be well in the end.

I'm cooking chicken soup and Camille and I are having dessert with some friends tonight. That will be enjoyable. In the meantime, back to the business at hand. The Zen activity of folding laundry.

My New Thang

So, this is new to me. After my really bad flu last month, several people recommended this potion to me. It tastes pretty awful, but I really do believe it's going to strengthen my lungs. My lungs are my weak link, beginning with asthma as a child. They got better as I got older, but I've had two serious attacks in the past 4 months. Outta the blue. They say that asthma is a mother response. Go figure. :)

Anyway, I'm counting on this:

Oh yeah, and this:

Now I'm off to make Camille and I some pesto pasta with asparagus tips. It's our night to watch Across The Universe together. I haven't seen it yet. I'm looking forward to my date with my daughter.

Brown Eyed Girl Loves Auntie Camille

Goodbye Daniel

Camille returns full of the Latin culture, a family who welcomed them with open arms and gratitude, and a beautiful sending of Daniel's ashes, his mortal remains, to the wind. These photos are taken where they stayed, on the family beach compound where Daniel grew up in Araya.

Here is the altar where a Catholic mass was said when they gathered. Daniel's father is a very devout catholic; his faith carrying him through his sadness. He told the girls that when he first heard that Daniel was so sick in the hospital he prayed for two things: mercy and more time. And that both prayers were answered...he got to see him one more time while he was still conscious...and there was mercy within the speed of Daniel's death, saving him from lingering pain.

Giving his ashes to the wind.

At the end of the memorial service, Camille tells me of these clouds in the sky shaped like a hand. They all felt it was Daniel waving goodbye.

Here the friends make a loving heart with their hands back to Daniel.