tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31348710331730782372024-03-05T02:31:44.920-05:00Sing Your HeartLouisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327179373573408156noreply@blogger.comBlogger217125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134871033173078237.post-72610091377461016572018-05-25T11:05:00.001-04:002018-05-25T11:07:01.854-04:0025 May 2018<iframe allow="autoplay; encrypted-media" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/snDrZfHvpeQ?start=9" width="560"></iframe><br />
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This song could be about the end of a marriage. I think that's how the artist meant it. But it could also be a song about how God holds us in his ever-loving arms. Oh Lord, this has been a bad dream, for certain. Also certain: I'm here in His arms.Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327179373573408156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134871033173078237.post-79263686381796065522018-05-18T07:26:00.004-04:002018-05-25T11:05:59.693-04:0018 May 2018<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Under the Whitehurst Freeway in the rain</div>
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It smells</div>
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(Oddly)</div>
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Of grilled meat, and </div>
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(Fittingly)</div>
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Of the inside of taxi cabs </div>
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Before there was Uber.</div>
Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327179373573408156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134871033173078237.post-7547692168067472302018-05-17T12:05:00.001-04:002018-05-25T11:06:18.618-04:0017 May 2018<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Today<br />
There are no words<br />
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For anybody but me.</div>
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I managed to sprain my finger yesterday</div>
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Without even noticing</div>
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This morning it is stiff and hard to bend</div>
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As I wipe up tiny clear thorns of glass </div>
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The remains of the Mason jar my son dropped in the kitchen</div>
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While he was trying to help.</div>
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The jar shattered and flew</div>
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Already gritty floors suddenly studded with glassy shards</div>
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Hiding, barely catching the light</div>
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Waiting to hobble us after breakfast.</div>
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And the boy is big now, almost half my weight</div>
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Too tall and broad to pick up</div>
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And spin around in my arms</div>
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Too big, maybe, for me to make everything </div>
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Alright.</div>
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<br />Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327179373573408156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134871033173078237.post-67489848184408429902015-09-12T21:27:00.001-04:002015-09-12T21:27:52.077-04:0012 September 2015<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I want to remember this moment. Baby boy, standing naked, belly-up to the bathtub, watching the water intently as his bath is drawn. Content, finally, at the end of a trying day.<br />
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Did all my babies have that little underbite when there were only six teeth? I know they all had the round, overhanging belly, taut after a dinner eaten with clutching fists. And that cornsilk hair that will grow long and awkward before I can bring myself to cut it.<br />
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The baby chirps, a happy tree frog, and I remember his brother, chirping with joy after eating dirt in our little suburban yard four years ago. And then his bigger brother yells up the stairs, "Mama!" with his little-boy voice. They have been gathering chestnuts (or chinquapins, Henry isn't sure) in the gloaming and will need a bigger bowl to display them on the nature table. The nuts are shiny brown and just the right size and smoothness to tuck into a pocket to turn and hold and stroke with the pad of your thumb when you are unsure during the first week of first grade.<br />
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Oh, but this has been a long day, and a long week. But such a short almost-seven years, and four-almost-five-years, and almost-ten-months. (So they all say.)<br />
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Our "morning words", our memory work, right now is Christina Rossetti's "Who Has Seen the Wind?". We are in that full, fleeting stage of a family's life where all our spirits whirl around this house together, both noiseless-ly and with a lot of noise, and we rustle each other's leaves, and I try to water their roots, and I only take a deep breath at the end of the day when it is fully dark and I can hear the dog running in his sleep. I want to remember what this feels like, to be right in the middle, watching the leaves blow in the suddenly cool, autumn breeze.<br />
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Who has seen the wind?<br />
Neither I nor you:<br />
But when the leaves hang trembling,<br />
The wind is passing through.<br />
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Who has seen the wind?<br />
Neither you nor I:<br />
But when the trees bow down their heads,<br />
The wind is passing by.<br />
<br />Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327179373573408156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134871033173078237.post-21847997818184982842014-01-09T13:41:00.000-05:002014-01-09T13:41:34.622-05:009 January 2014<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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G, over breakfast: Mama? Maybe you can be the girl I'm going to marry. Then it could be you and me forever and ever. All. Alone.<br />
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H: Hey! Mama's already married! You can't change the people you're married to.<br />
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L: That's right, Mama is married to Papa, but you may find someone special to marry when you get older. And you can stay with us as long as you want. We have lots of good years left before you grow up. And I'll always love you.<br />
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G: And we can play games!<br />
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Our favorite family game right now is <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Spin-Master-Games-6014346-HedBanz/dp/B003AIM52A/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1389292547&sr=8-1&keywords=hedbanz" target="_blank">HedBanz</a>. So nice for pre-readers. And hilarious:</div>
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L: Now, G, don't tell Henry what's on his headband. He's trying to guess.</div>
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G: Okay.</div>
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(Two minutes later. The excitement builds.)</div>
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H: Am I a food?</div>
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B&L: Yes</div>
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H: Am I an apple? A pear? A banana?</div>
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B&L: No, no, no.</div>
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G: YOU'RE A CHEESE! A CHEESE! A CHEESE! (Huge, triumphant smile and maniacal laughter. Repeat, on almost every turn.)</div>
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Same idea, but way more wonderful fun than a drunken college game of Indian.</div>
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Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327179373573408156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134871033173078237.post-89938706704447189072013-03-01T16:35:00.000-05:002013-03-01T16:37:22.070-05:001 March 2013<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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New "foft" pants for G. <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/1999/12/12/us/e-zimmermann-is-dead-at-89-revolutionized-art-of-knitting.html" target="_blank">Elizabeth Zimmerman</a> February baby pants made entirely from scraps. There is something supremely satisfying about using scraps. Also satisfying when the boy loves something that I made so very much. He told everyone we met yesterday, "Mama made these!" <a href="http://www.ravelry.com/projects/weezetr/baby-leggings-february-2" target="_blank">Ravelry notes</a>.Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327179373573408156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134871033173078237.post-45208558584468581992013-02-28T16:43:00.001-05:002013-02-28T16:43:54.814-05:0015 February 2013<br />
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On a hike at the <a href="http://www.hras.org/wtobird/marshlands.html" target="_blank">Rye Marshlands Conservancy</a>, with the <a href="http://www.jaycenter.org/Home.html" target="_blank">Jay House</a> in the background. (Probably need to choose a less wide-open lens on these bright snowy days, but I kind of like the feel and colors anyway!)<br />
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Looking out over <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Long_Island_Sound" target="_blank">Long Island Sound</a>.</div>
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Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327179373573408156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134871033173078237.post-20532441341749407982013-01-17T16:11:00.000-05:002013-01-17T16:11:25.149-05:0017 January 2013<br />
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Saturday was a mud pie kind of day. I'm so thankful that my kids love to play outside. This series of photos reminds me of that Amish proverb: "Put the swing where the children want it. The grass will grow back." At the rate these boys are growing, that grass will grow back all too soon. Feeling happy these days. Settling in to winter days.Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327179373573408156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134871033173078237.post-68920573164718641122012-12-16T22:27:00.001-05:002012-12-18T15:41:25.820-05:0015 December<br />
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=3134871033173078237" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=3134871033173078237" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=3134871033173078237" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=3134871033173078237" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=3134871033173078237" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=3134871033173078237" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>Yesterday was a big deal if you are a Sumner kid. First, both boys got haircuts. This was George's first-ever cut.<br />
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Before: <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_xIFfJ5VaLeBGVK4x8pmKQzkXuFBWfks8DJO9ZNCpWfyZeOTiQBMc8-DUgCWA8JRKtUbaYUYp3qxU8QfS9zy9MNKZ4XbGqpOYwWxYWAFKr5W8ZIaiABAo_2Xx9_TNTPtQyLUmWB93_w/s1600/photo-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_xIFfJ5VaLeBGVK4x8pmKQzkXuFBWfks8DJO9ZNCpWfyZeOTiQBMc8-DUgCWA8JRKtUbaYUYp3qxU8QfS9zy9MNKZ4XbGqpOYwWxYWAFKr5W8ZIaiABAo_2Xx9_TNTPtQyLUmWB93_w/s320/photo-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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After: <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIhFMzOSs7vKGjoaY-Vme93EMxWZS-09SK8x5jRo8HzEaaEEp2Fsj9zcxbv9hC6N6ioxpQ1gttGSOlpd-nCLS5_bbUE1MpetgpkdbzzMvQ8Tb1kRxpXitqc05a9vj-3VbWip2wfV3XKQ/s1600/photo-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIhFMzOSs7vKGjoaY-Vme93EMxWZS-09SK8x5jRo8HzEaaEEp2Fsj9zcxbv9hC6N6ioxpQ1gttGSOlpd-nCLS5_bbUE1MpetgpkdbzzMvQ8Tb1kRxpXitqc05a9vj-3VbWip2wfV3XKQ/s320/photo-3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Then, we rode the train into the city to see both Papa's office and Santa, at Macy's Herald Square.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The train photos are so precious.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRcAdSs0QqngO9dBQi74xL8pAxfcu68RrIhyphenhyphen_LxD68dhgDQXCguEJGVd_8QY_PUGPzfBd3Ui1c-bP7QIswFo0maZMV8RAMLGkB3KM1IVhTVW7iCrn4EZzOyAgDqQVvQOGuF7q-8mZPMQ/s1600/photo-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRcAdSs0QqngO9dBQi74xL8pAxfcu68RrIhyphenhyphen_LxD68dhgDQXCguEJGVd_8QY_PUGPzfBd3Ui1c-bP7QIswFo0maZMV8RAMLGkB3KM1IVhTVW7iCrn4EZzOyAgDqQVvQOGuF7q-8mZPMQ/s320/photo-5.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOfU4Yxx3uPlJdeU1apfiYMe6Kzrg1-bWMEk20rKTASjf3WNjKx6EW0DEWL52A00dXnGaPr9Ih29OrCFNp9bsr7OC8be29zLz7q6cWnyab7V0wro6qGZnSFHTGzHEcqLWxG_vzl0YbfA/s1600/photo-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOfU4Yxx3uPlJdeU1apfiYMe6Kzrg1-bWMEk20rKTASjf3WNjKx6EW0DEWL52A00dXnGaPr9Ih29OrCFNp9bsr7OC8be29zLz7q6cWnyab7V0wro6qGZnSFHTGzHEcqLWxG_vzl0YbfA/s320/photo-4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">They were so excited about that train. And the train after that one, and even the final train, on the way home (although one of them fell asleep, lounging across my lap, while the baby chirruped and giggled all the way back to our stop). They also loved Papa's office. They stood on the air return in the glass corner of his floor and exclaimed over the Christmas lights below, completely unfazed by the height.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And Santa, well let's just say that they were less happy about Santa. H was a deer in the headlights until the end of our two minutes with the big guy, when he told what he wanted and what G wanted. G had already been whisked off of Santa's lap and into my arms. Too traumatic. Here it is:</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And this is officially the most mommy-bloggy post I've ever written. Can't help myself sometimes.</span></span></div>
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Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327179373573408156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134871033173078237.post-39400369244977855582012-11-15T09:30:00.000-05:002012-11-15T09:30:08.336-05:00Our Sandy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYDItzfltaKrfc4KKGg35ASHxLZ5d9ARXaELfWFTmIDHlQqb8PWkBjAlQNdKq_mjhCNzRtxggM9i8yZIwNrZOoe-avMiLtuVWrv0nDRVoI7d6pBl5QEuO1KqGUuqAfElaVJ3V-AahgeA/s1600/IMG_2224.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYDItzfltaKrfc4KKGg35ASHxLZ5d9ARXaELfWFTmIDHlQqb8PWkBjAlQNdKq_mjhCNzRtxggM9i8yZIwNrZOoe-avMiLtuVWrv0nDRVoI7d6pBl5QEuO1KqGUuqAfElaVJ3V-AahgeA/s400/IMG_2224.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCLDdf3ox8yNKs_G0R92W4538Cxr7WVeIg3v-5VxS6BtQfcTfQ_dzk1cGR1HDwCTthsuNIW5BG_iuBGQmbbZyak-CeBG_DD9Y5hLp3fQ3L8EhrOIboj0QjcpmynuLGXbXlXaY3Sh4LPg/s1600/IMG_2229.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCLDdf3ox8yNKs_G0R92W4538Cxr7WVeIg3v-5VxS6BtQfcTfQ_dzk1cGR1HDwCTthsuNIW5BG_iuBGQmbbZyak-CeBG_DD9Y5hLp3fQ3L8EhrOIboj0QjcpmynuLGXbXlXaY3Sh4LPg/s400/IMG_2229.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
As the storm was gearing up, we saw <a href="http://identify.whatbird.com/obj/30/_/Great_Egret.aspx" target="_blank">white egrets</a> walking across our lawn, hunched into their bodies against the wind. The light was definitely hurricane light, gold but dark. There was a bit of anxiousness on my part-- I hate it when I know something is going to happen, but not when it will happen. In the end, the winds were fierce, but we didn't get that much rain, and the whole thing had passed by the time we woke up Tuesday morning.<br />
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We were only without power for six and a half days. I spent much of the time looking for light: firewood, batteries, flashlights and candles, and (strangely) my iPad. My husband spent much of his time keeping us warm, setting fires and tending them. It's no surprise that all of my photos from that week are of different fires. <br />
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I loved sitting with my children and watching the flames, and I even mostly loved having them camp out on their mattresses in our room. Everything felt very slow and comfortable until my husband had to go away on business and it got cold, both on the same day. And then the kids and I skipped town, headed south to Virginia. Of course, four hours into the five hour drive the neighbors called to say that the power had been restored. Sigh. I know we had it easy, compared to those who were severely affected in the city and in New Jersey. I am grateful, and I think of those folks often. But I will remember Sandy as a dark and quiet time with some warm points of light. <br />
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<br />Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327179373573408156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134871033173078237.post-67274631422633897492012-11-13T09:19:00.001-05:002012-11-13T09:19:52.979-05:00Little lamb, who made thee?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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After Sandy, they postponed Halloween. The rescheduled festivities were Sunday night, but it didn't seem like many families were participating. Just as well, as none of us needs the extra sugar. We took a nice Martinmas lantern walk with the children in costume instead. They were entranced by their lanterns, and the fact that they got to carry real candles! <a href="http://www.ravelry.com/projects/weezetr/childs-lamb-costume" target="_blank">Ravelry notes</a> on the lamb costume. (The Gaydee the flying dog costume deserves a post and explanation of its own!)Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327179373573408156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134871033173078237.post-23970636772374677432012-11-13T09:03:00.001-05:002012-11-13T09:03:03.479-05:00"Mowing"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Working hard at the farm.Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327179373573408156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134871033173078237.post-31411436269362796522012-11-13T08:56:00.003-05:002012-11-13T08:57:06.711-05:00New hat<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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He's so proud of it. 'Want hat! Want hat!" He can put it on himself. It is well and truly fall and he is almost two. <a href="http://www.ravelry.com/projects/weezetr/rainbow-marley" target="_blank">Ravelry notes</a>.Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327179373573408156noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134871033173078237.post-1112852589284464582012-10-24T19:28:00.000-04:002012-10-24T19:28:01.262-04:00Knitting catch-up: Antler and Moss cardigan<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Sooo, I have many many knitting projects that were never documented here. Starting with this Antler and Moss cardigan I made almost a year ago. I got to test-knit, and was so excited to do so. (Look how teeny H looks!) I really loved this pattern-- the knitting was so relaxing and yet it came out beautifully. It was a joy to make. I used a <a href="http://www.cestarisheep.com/" target="_blank">Virginia yarn</a>, and knit it extra-densely so that he was able to wear it a little like a jacket. <br />
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Two issues in post-production, as it were: 1) Those pewter buttons were just too inviting to little teeth, and H ended up chewing all but two of them off; and 2) Now that I look at it in comparison to some others' projects, I think I somehow made the "antlers" upside-down. Ah, well, lovely knit. I only wish I had made the sleeves and body longer so he could still wear it this year. <a href="http://www.ravelry.com/projects/weezetr/antler-and-moss-cardigan" target="_blank">Ravelry notes.</a><br />
<br />Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327179373573408156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134871033173078237.post-64757270643769712062012-10-23T19:34:00.002-04:002012-10-23T19:34:15.353-04:00Goodbye house<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We loved our little brick house in Arlington. When we left for the last time, I wanted to mark the occasion a little. I made a banner, and we all told our favorite things about the house. Then, before sitting down for a special "Goodbye house" dinner, we all sat in the grass in the front yard and made sketches of the house. Papa and G worked on the same piece. H's drawing is below. From the stone walk and the smoke coming out of the chimney, to the actual semi-correctness of the rendering, I think it's wonderful. </div>
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H is really on a huge drawing kick. He fills pages and pages each night during our after-dinner music and art time, and there are still intricate stories to go along with each picture. I hope I can keep him interested as the years fly by.</div>
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We will miss our sweet little first home, the place we brought our babies home, but I will always have the memory of watching my family sit on the lawn, drawing together.</div>
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<br />Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327179373573408156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134871033173078237.post-10096057509333198422012-10-23T19:18:00.000-04:002012-10-23T19:18:28.123-04:00Jump!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327179373573408156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134871033173078237.post-74520750317937358062012-10-17T10:32:00.000-04:002012-10-17T10:32:03.218-04:00Bamboo forest<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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So now it's fall. I've skipped over summer here. That's because this spring my husband took a new job and we spent the summer moving from Virginia to New York. Things are different here, but there are so very many really good things going on. I'm trying to embrace it.<br />
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Over the weekend we went to a fall festival at the <a href="http://friendsofreadwildlifesanctuary.org/" target="_blank">wildlife sanctuary</a>. There was a storyteller telling spooky stories in the "bamboo forest". My kids could have stayed in there all day, shaking the stalks and climbing around, and I was happy because the light was really cool. More soon.Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327179373573408156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134871033173078237.post-28597577833458713592012-05-08T08:00:00.000-04:002012-05-08T08:00:11.598-04:00This year's strawberries<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We did our annual <a href="http://www.wegmeyerfarms.com/" target="_blank">strawberry picking</a> on Friday. (<a href="http://singyourheart.blogspot.com/2011/06/strawberries.html" target="_blank">Last year</a>, <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/singyourheart/5809860894/in/set-72157626785550949" target="_blank">two years ago</a>) It rained, and the actual picking only took about half an hour, before the thunder. The kids were great sports.<br />
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Since bringing the berries home, we've made strawberry kefir pancakes (which became strawberry shortcake for dessert after dinner), strawberries and whipped cream (probably my kids' favorite-ever dessert), and have of course eaten many many berries out of hand. I've decided not to do jam this year. My kids prefer honey over jam in most situations, so I still have strawberry jam left over from last year.<br />
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I've been reading Tamar Adler's book <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/An-Everlasting-Meal-Cooking-Economy/dp/143918187X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1336312981&sr=8-1" target="_blank">An Everlasting Meal </a> </i>over the past couple of weeks, and it has been inspiring. I am a good cook, but in the past I have learned recipes, for soups and sauces, for example, and then extrapolated on them, instead of cooking individual ingredients well and then combining them into good meals. This book has inspired me to use whatever herbs I have in the crisper with whichever vegetables are also there-- to cook what's in season and to use all of it: rinds and skins, shells and bones. <br />
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And somehow her book has let me admit that while I like to think of myself as the sort of person who makes strawberry jam each year, I'm not really the kind of person whose family <i>eats</i> a whole batch of strawberry jam in a year. So we're using them as they come to us, and freezing the rest for the now-daily smoothie ritual. Can't wait for the blackberries and raspberries to come in.Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327179373573408156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134871033173078237.post-52813597330216814832012-05-07T08:00:00.000-04:002012-05-07T08:00:09.742-04:00Signs of spring<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>"Spring, Spring, Spring!" sang the frog. "Spring!" said the groundhog. It was spring.</i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">*from </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Home for a Bunny</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> by Margaret Wise Brown*</span></span></i></div>
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Some of my favorite signs of spring around our home. I always forget how beautiful and delicious these spring artichokes are. I could eat them for a week.</div>
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<br /></div>Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327179373573408156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134871033173078237.post-78363572041646507142012-05-05T08:00:00.000-04:002012-05-05T08:00:09.553-04:00Wild Wednesday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(Aside: I so remember this oldest sibling feeling, of wanting your little brother to behave in the family pictures!)</span><br />
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The buttercups are out in full force. Rain was threatening to fall, and I drove the car down into the cow field so we could get to our beloved creek and tadpoles quickly. H wanted to lead the way, walking ahead of me and G on the cow paths. The grass is growing tall past "cow creek", and all the little thick green grasses are filling in on the banks of the creek. The tadpoles are everywhere, crowding the shallows, not just in still puddles, but in the transitional edges of the creek itself. H and G spent a long time talking to the tadpoles, who are still very small and black, trying to touch them as they wiggled away (to G's giggling pleasure), and bringing them "special rocks". G reminded us to say bye bye when it was time to leave.<br />
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On the way back up the hill, H wanted to look for bones on the other side of the cows' stream. I had to pass him across the stream because it was running a little deep, over the tops of his boots. We found a couple of cow femurs with black and brown slugs hiding on the bottoms, close to the ground. (Every day since then he's been singing <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q8yLwuDi2mA&ob=av2n" target="_blank">this</a> song, but replacing the lyrics in the refrain with "sluugs and bones, slu-ugs and bones, slu-ugs have houses called bones". Hee.) I love Wednesdays.Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327179373573408156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134871033173078237.post-33494728205618053742012-05-04T21:15:00.000-04:002012-05-04T21:16:19.243-04:00Dining en plein air<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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For the second time this spring. <a href="http://oaklandgreen.com/beef/index.php" target="_blank">Hamburgers</a> and hot dogs on the grill. His special deer mug. And (always) the attempted escape when the sun goes down and it's time for bed.Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327179373573408156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134871033173078237.post-75349763337701310552012-04-28T10:26:00.000-04:002012-04-28T10:26:26.720-04:00Ottobre camp shirt<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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H has a new shirt. He wanted to model it with the "bonnet" he made for his preschool's spring hat parade. This is the "Little Fella" shirt from Ottobre issue 3/2009. It's my first fully-fashioned button-down. I did get lazy at the end and employ my snap press instead of the buttonhole foot, but he likes to rip it open Incredible Hulk-style, so that turned out to be a win. The fabric is tiny trees and car campers from the Beach Mod line by Birch Fabrics.<br />
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I had a little trouble with the collar, and had to guess my way through on that a little, but I think the little details, like the bias tape-covered collar seam, are ace. I also forgot to add seam allowances when I cut this out since I've also been busy lately sewing from big four patterns for myself. So it turned out to be slightly smaller than I'd hoped. All in, definitely a learning experience. He chooses it often, though, so that makes me happy.</div>
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I have cut out another button-down style for H, the "Henry" shirt from <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Sewing-Boys-Projects-Handmade-Wardrobe/dp/0470949554/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1335622822&sr=8-1">Sewing for Boys</a> (in some nice Kokka airplanes, no less). Maybe I'll get that one sewn together before the end of the summer.</div>Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327179373573408156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134871033173078237.post-42334235963480062202012-04-28T09:43:00.002-04:002012-04-28T09:43:51.667-04:00Today<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyryOfv9ZotjyVc6xFU_5WCegPv7tTVnrFhO0gTY8HPeoGmp5Oxdbc0AVmYCRcZaaJLuQg365YzRDQaAbWbO1QcYTQ0Z3RqR-g0Mi510HBEz8FVjoFAjf9qkNwgpCMQzi_vCUdSZ1MRA/s1600/IMG_0392.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyryOfv9ZotjyVc6xFU_5WCegPv7tTVnrFhO0gTY8HPeoGmp5Oxdbc0AVmYCRcZaaJLuQg365YzRDQaAbWbO1QcYTQ0Z3RqR-g0Mi510HBEz8FVjoFAjf9qkNwgpCMQzi_vCUdSZ1MRA/s320/IMG_0392.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
Today, I am thankful for lilies of the valley.Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327179373573408156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134871033173078237.post-12141824347667891062012-03-24T10:14:00.002-04:002012-03-24T10:48:45.587-04:00Friday<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBJx9V8euLfhC8qXuriw-CNLJG8wlN5WWmlVz53KPbJcnahQnLeeFmOO2IGSaeuSYt5T1iBL0dn4joA9TW7rV8g9EkHs79hb7T8DXM37bhcKfBSXWG1hpQKrqtJEG77U1oarQPS1YEBw/s1600/IMG_9957.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBJx9V8euLfhC8qXuriw-CNLJG8wlN5WWmlVz53KPbJcnahQnLeeFmOO2IGSaeuSYt5T1iBL0dn4joA9TW7rV8g9EkHs79hb7T8DXM37bhcKfBSXWG1hpQKrqtJEG77U1oarQPS1YEBw/s400/IMG_9957.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5723471769821145362" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSf0xKTM44sVLv8tI3NO59OgHGs9hCnJqeZB0vDVHApvx0sSTBWBzch7iHhQUXa_4w6YAiq3WIa5K3IfItQAftgcNYdE6eQtATIYRFkjxN6gCBQT0mgXH1Bg9XxjnAEOTQDrBh7rgRig/s1600/IMG_9962.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSf0xKTM44sVLv8tI3NO59OgHGs9hCnJqeZB0vDVHApvx0sSTBWBzch7iHhQUXa_4w6YAiq3WIa5K3IfItQAftgcNYdE6eQtATIYRFkjxN6gCBQT0mgXH1Bg9XxjnAEOTQDrBh7rgRig/s400/IMG_9962.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5723471758554674834" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTpnw7x6D_QNQjJ0bI8LCrbM5UmLSmqndBWRI2UCOgn1ehuOz3GkoDShMB0W_3oQ3lUBXREh7IVMNQOWMRjBPCHED4bmPt5J2HX9fMsb5rpb5Rc6eYt4FiRJ9B5vu3FQ6UyHbPXbyX2w/s1600/IMG_9935.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTpnw7x6D_QNQjJ0bI8LCrbM5UmLSmqndBWRI2UCOgn1ehuOz3GkoDShMB0W_3oQ3lUBXREh7IVMNQOWMRjBPCHED4bmPt5J2HX9fMsb5rpb5Rc6eYt4FiRJ9B5vu3FQ6UyHbPXbyX2w/s400/IMG_9935.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5723471752439301010" /></a>Friday was farm day this week, as the boys were too sick to go on Wednesday. There were record-high 85 degree temperatures yesterday, so we had to stop on the way out for sunscreen. Next week there will be a knapsack for water in addition to the baby carrier, which did well in a pinch to hold sunscreen, cell phone and discarded sunglasses.<div><br /></div><div>We walked over the dam and up the hill and went down the path past the old dairy barn into the woods. Wildflowers were everywhere. Several different kinds of violets, including one that was the palest lavender with a hot pink stamen for each of the five melon-shaped petals. Also buttercups and dandelions (usually I write about buttercups in May!), but the jack-in-the-pulpit hasn't yet bloomed. (I think I also need to bring my camera in the knapsack, although I'm worried I won't be as in the moment if I do...)</div><div><br /></div><div>Down through the woods and over two little brooks and through to the banks of the Goose. That sweet baby grass is popping up all over, and when we emerged from the woods there were two mama cows and their calves nibbling near the path by the first pole vertical jump. G was delighted, clapping his hands (a relatively new trick) in the carrier and pointing with glee, "Caaa, caaah!" (H: "Yes, Georgie, cows! You're right Georgie!")</div><div><br /></div><div>We walked down the bank (H all by himself) and out on to the sandbar and H used his walking stick to be an elephant, splashing us with his trunk. He had asked to shed his pants on the walk up the hill so he was free and happy in his underwear and muck boots. G was a little more hesitant, but couldn't resist getting in on the act when H started throwing rocks into the creek. Ker-plunk! I turned around and looked back and both boys were sitting in the creek, March or not.</div><div><br /></div><div>It was hot walking back through the field to the house. You can see from the photos that G was not so happy about the heat, nor about being required to wear his hat. Picnic on the porch and then the added treat of meeting our new 8-day-old cousin William (-with-more-hair-than-George). Boys slept all the way home. Such a nice farm day.</div>Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327179373573408156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134871033173078237.post-69289692247015373222012-03-04T09:41:00.004-05:002012-03-04T09:48:09.101-05:00Sunday observations<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt52sfyblPxfSmtSuq_HG5UkxywirRx3nIbxdyzPvF1dP2f_ydf6nZYDq7bIMoSh5k7huaYuy4oo3k_IJYFce1dsYk_68GfsNZiOIy6JsuvdJZCRyQx3IRU4kePOOgrpBuopOxgHagFw/s1600/IMG_9554.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt52sfyblPxfSmtSuq_HG5UkxywirRx3nIbxdyzPvF1dP2f_ydf6nZYDq7bIMoSh5k7huaYuy4oo3k_IJYFce1dsYk_68GfsNZiOIy6JsuvdJZCRyQx3IRU4kePOOgrpBuopOxgHagFw/s400/IMG_9554.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716052325297066754" /></a>1. He's a very smiley baby ever since he learned to walk. Often I will look over my shoulder and catch his eye and he will lower his chin and smile a conspiratorial smile, like we have an inside joke that no one else will ever understand.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwPOvuTdKbBrOWB2IeKas0AjrkQ1m_EGTQj2ag2XBfk54psumv81rGB5NkvK9ztyKlTZDq-7O9Jt7o4ts5Qe0i81lkbuXHL9VWaWByHNdieYTJCywSPVrsgbHL2gNBAwbMjBA4nmAqHg/s1600/IMG_9573.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwPOvuTdKbBrOWB2IeKas0AjrkQ1m_EGTQj2ag2XBfk54psumv81rGB5NkvK9ztyKlTZDq-7O9Jt7o4ts5Qe0i81lkbuXHL9VWaWByHNdieYTJCywSPVrsgbHL2gNBAwbMjBA4nmAqHg/s400/IMG_9573.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716052319785391266" /></a>2. His drawings are always about a story he wants to tell, and not about the finished masterpiece (although some of them are also masterpieces, says his proud mama). Today it was a story about a little fish named Flash who lives in an underwater barn with water bugs and worms. There was lots of straw for all of the animals to eat. Oh, and it's always mixed media and collage, which I love.Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13327179373573408156noreply@blogger.com2