Everyday Life for Four Seasons

Today when I dropped 'A' off at preschool, the teacher showed us the new chicks that hatched. The eggs have been in the incubator for a few weeks and it's very exciting to see the little babies here safe and sound. I'm told that one year all of the chicks died shortly after hatching and I can imagine how traumatic that might have been for the children.

Anyway, these chicks are alive and well. I was reminded today of my childhood visits to see my grandparents in the spring. My grandfather always kept chickens - a number of chickens, and not just any chickens for any old reason, either. Grandpa Fred was a world-renowned poultry geneticist and if you walked through the pens in his backyard, you could see some of his work in progress. He would spend hours in the backyard just sitting and observing bird behavior. He raised Bantams, which produced little off-white eggs. It's incredible that those big birds can come out of a tiny little egg.


At preschool today, there was one box set up with a heat lamp for the chicks that were fluffy and walking around, and the others who were newly hatched and still wet were still in the incubator. I went over to the incubator to take a peek and found there were four eggs that hadn't hatched yet - well, almost four - one was starting to hatch at that very moment! Even after all of my years visiting Grandpa Fred, and seeing the incubators, and holding the new babies, I had never watched one hatch. I went immediately to tell Miss Katy, who said it could take a long time or a little amount of time for the bird to come out... you never know. So I went back and watched and waited, and sure enough, a few minutes later, a new baby chick pushed out of the shell. It was so exciting! There is nothing as magical as watching new life come into the world.


After all of the chicken excitement died down, it was time to take a class trip to the fire station. You might think that this would be a fun and exciting trip for children, and it probably is, as long as those children aren't mine. 'H' was freaked out and needed to be held the whole time, and 'A' did fine until the firemen started to lift the kids into the ladder truck so they could take a look around, and then she freaked out. She wanted to go, but wanted me to lift her in and go in with her. Oh, the crying, the tears! Needless to say, she missed her chance to see the inside of the truck. The tears drained us all.


It's so hard to know how to parent sometimes. At their ages - 2 and 4 years old - I am finding that patience and understanding are the two most important things I rely on now. Both 'A' and 'H' are on their own journeys and they each want me right by their side. Jeff and I talk a lot about specific situations: how did my reaction go over? Is there anything I would do differently in the future? What do these girls each need?

We both recently read a book called "Unconditional Parenting" by Alfie Kohn. It gave us a lot to think about. In fact, when I'm in the middle of a fire station meltdown, I do take a moment to think, "What would Alfie tell me to do?" The point of the book is to explore ways to raise our children so that they are comfortable with themselves and comfortable making responsible decisions, and not use punishment or rewards to teach them how to do it. It's about learning to love our children, and let them know we love them, unconditionally. He says that emotional and mental punishments like time-outs are just as bad as physical punishments, and that rewards like sticker charts and special TV time or presents are just as bad, if not worse than punishment. Punishment is punishment, and reward is reward, and as parents we use both to get our children to do something we want them to do. If they do it, they know we are pleased, and if they don't, they know we aren't, and either result is conveying the message that our relationship with them is conditional and based on good behavior in order to gain our approval.

Okay, got that. But what about the firestation? If I were there alone with the girls, of course I would have hopped in the truck with 'A' and all would have been right with the world. But she was in line with the other kids - 14 total - and in that situation, the truck wasn't for parents or grown ups, it was only for the kids. She is going to eventually learn that sometimes you have to go with the flow if you want to be a part of the action.

Jeff came home last night after almost a week away for work. It's really nice to have him home again! This weekend I wore myself out with yard work, and it was the best Mother's Day present ever. Yesterday at the farmer's market I bought a few six-packs of lettuce plants and made some nice containers for the deck.


'A' took this one of me.


At our UU church service today we were reminded that the original Mother's Day was an idea conceived by Julia Ward Howe in 1870. Julia Ward Howe not only wrote The Battle Hymn of the Republic, co-authored an abolishionist newspaper with her husband, and fought for peace and women's rights, she also proposed that mothers take a day of leave from their children and the home to come together and talk about how to stop making war and spread peace.

You can read more about her declaration here: http://www.chiff.com/a/mothers-day-origins.htm


One of the ideas that keeps popping up again and again, with which I wholeheartedly agree, is that the change that [I think] needs to be made in the world - forging peace, protecting the environment, raising free-thinking children - must come from women, specifically mothers. I'm not taking men out of the equation, or saying that women are the "kindler, gentler sex," but I do believe that mothers have more of a stake in the future of our children and our planet.


When I was a Women's Studies student in college in the early 90's, I probably would have been laughed out of the classroom if I ever said something like that. Things were different then. The women of my mother's generation worked hard to fight for their right to be treated as equals of men. They protected those goals, those ideals, with vigor. My professors were largely from that generation, and the few who were younger and dared to think outside of that box still had a lot to protect - they worked hard for their degrees in a largely male field and they were proud that they had secured the teaching jobs they did. The theme was more about equality then, and the message of empowerment was just beginning to emerge.


I do believe that women are the answer. As a mother, I make the bulk of decisions that impact my household and my family. The food that I put on the table every day, the activities I choose for my children, our weekend family activities, the consumer goods that we use at home, the charitable contributions we make... most are decided by me. Jeff does make some of the decisions and he certainly weighs in on most of them, but for the most part, it's my call. I have a tremendous amount of influence over both my family's current habits and my children's future ones. And for that reason, I believe that change can only truly begin with mothers.


We did a lot of outdoor clean-up and we got the deck ready for summer living today. I'm so excited to expand our living space outdoors for the next few months!


Enjoy your night. I'll leave you with this bread recipe, which we are now addicted to. It makes a bulgur oatmeal loaf. Delicious. You won't regret making it.


~ Oatmeal-Bulgur Bread ~
Recipe taken from "The Bread Bible" by Beth Hensperger.

Ingredients for the "Sponge":
1 Tbs (or 1 package/7g) Active dry yeast
2 Tbs Light brown sugar
2/3 Cup Bulgur, fine or medium grind
2 1/4 Cups Tepid water (105-115°F)
2 Cups Unbleached all-purpose flour or bread flour

Ingredients for the "Dough":
1 1/4 Cups Regular rolled oats
1/4 Cup Wheat bran
1/4 Cup Light brown sugar
3 Tbsp oil
1 Tbs salt
3 to 3 1/2 Cups Unbleached all-purpose flour or bread flour

Method for the "Sponge":
1. In a large bowl pour in the water.
2. Sprinkle the yeast, 2 Tbs of brown sugar, and bulgur wheat over the surface and let stand for 5 minutes.
3. Add 2 cups of flour and beat hard until well moistened and creamy, about 2 minutes.
4. Cover with plastic wrap and let stand at room temperature until foamy, about 1 hour.

Method for the "Dough" and the "Baking":
5. To the bowl with the sponge, add the oats, bran, brown sugar, oil and salt.
6. Beat hard for about 1 minute.
7. Add flour 1/2 a cup at a time, until the dough pulls away from the sides of the bowl and switch to a wooden spoon when needed.
8. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured work surface and knead until smooth and elastic, about 4 minutes, dusting with flour as needed to prevent sticking.
9. Place the dough in a greased deep container or large bowl and turn once to coat, then cover with plastic wrap.
10. Let rise at room temperature until doubled in size, about 1 1/2 to 2 hours.
11. Gently deflate the dough. Turn the dough out onto a floured work surface. Grease or parchment-line a baking sheet or grease three 8x4-inch loaf pans.
12. Divide the dough into 3 equal portions or into 20-24 little portions and shape into loaves or rolls.
13. Cover loosely with a towel and let rise until doubled, about 45 min.
14. Twenty minutes before baking, preheat the oven to 375° F, then, with the help of a serrated knife, slash the 3 big loaves no more than 1/4 inch deep.
15. Bake for about 35 to 40 minutes.

I feel like I lived a thousand lives today, and I feel like a new person. We spent the morning tying up a million of my loose ends. I've been cleaning and organizing like a mad woman these last few days, and today we went to the thrift shop to drop off a donation, to the shelter to drop off another pair of children's pajamas that 'A' got for her birthday, to the store to return some stuff, to another store to buy some stuff... I don't know about you, but my life runs in very distinct cycles, and sometimes I have it all "together" and sometimes I don't. I'm cycling back into having it together after a very long time of not. This morning I tied up a few important loose ends.


This afternoon was spent very differently! I put 'H' down for a nap and then 'A' and I went to the backyard and piled up pillows on the lawn and we both rested and took quick naps. Well, I napped, and I have no idea what she was doing while I was napping. It was really nice to nap outdoors, feeling the light breeze pass by, listening to the birds, and feeling the bugs crawl around me. Wonderful! I can't think of a nicer way to spend the afternoon. It completely relaxed me after my go-go-go morning.

Today 'A's class had a Mother's Day celebration and invited all of the mothers (and grandmothers) to come and sit and listen to songs and eat snacks. Some of the nursing home residents came to join us too. I sat in the seat that was chosen for me by 'A' and listened to her sing a few songs with her classmates. She put together a plate of food for me and brought it over with a cup of juice, and then went and got her own plate and cup. After, she told me that it made her feel very grown up to get my food for me. Well, good! She can do that anytime and feel as grown up as she pleases...

All the kids gave their mothers a flower at the party and that is mine, above.


This is my leggy sage, which I should have cut back but did not because I wanted to see what would happen to it. The leaves are already tough and it's only May. I guess this is what happens to it.

Speaking of mothers, my mother showed the photo of the bird eggs in the nest to one of the naturalists at the Audubon sanctuary and right away she said it was a house finch. Mom told me that the eggs will hatch soon and 2 weeks after, the birds will all fall from the nest and spend a week hopping around on the ground as they learn to fly. "Oh my! The driveway is under the nest! Should I put pillows under it?" No, she said, but one thing to do is keep my cats indoors during the time that the baby birds are on the ground. Hmmm... a week of letting Grace suffer indoors, mewing constantly and wanting to go out, or a week of picking up the baby bird carcasses she brings me... it's not a hard decision.


Here is a post from the New York Times about the topic of our mothers and Mother's Day. There are some very good questions on this list and I have already forwarded it to my mother and sisters to give them a chance to review it before we sit down and ask her for the answers.

Questions We Should All Ask Mom

By Lisa Belkin
There are so many questions I wish I had asked my father before he died. In this month’s Real Simple magazine, Judith Newman, a mother of twin boys in Manhattan, covers many of them, in a list of 10 things she suggests we all ask our mothers this Sunday. On her list:

• What’s the one thing you would have done differently as a mom?


• Why did you choose to be with my father?


• In what ways do you think I’m like you?


• Which one of us kids did you like the best?


• Is there anything you have always wanted to tell me but never have?


• Do you think it’s easier or harder to be a mother now than when you were raising our family?


• Is there anything you regret not having asked your parents?


• What’s the best thing I can do for you right now?


• Is there anything that you wish had been different between us — or that you would still like to change?


• When did you realize you were no longer a child?

Newman compiled her list by polling friends and mothers of friends, and many of the questions came all tangled up with the answers. (The Real Simple website does not have the full story, but it is reprinted online at CNN.com)

What would one friend’s mother have done differently? “I should have let them fail,” Newman quotes her as saying. “When my daughter forgot to do her homework, I shouldn’t have done it for her. When the other one got caught shoplifting, I should have let her spend a night in jail.”

What did those who’d lost their parents wished they had asked? “Did you ever think about leaving my dad for someone else?” and “Did you ever want to just throw in the towel?” and “What music do you want played at your funeral?” Newman writes: “People regretted what they hadn’t asked — never what they had.”

And when did Newman’s Mom realize she was no longer a child?: “I knew it when my own mother died, That’s the last time there would be anyone in the world who always put me before herself,” she told her daughter. It startled Newman, because she knows that will one day be her answer, too.

What would you want to ask your mother? What would you want your children to ask you? What do you think the answers might be?

Oh my, I feel better. The dishes are done, the papers on my desk are organized, and things are good. I get really out of sorts when I don't make time to keep my space organized, and lately I haven't been keeping up with it all. I've got to get my groove back.


I went out today to check on my flower beds and was pleasantly surprised to find that a little fertility magic has been happening in my yard. I went to the spot where the catnip plants were located last year and found only one plant coming up. Where did they go? Well, then I looked over at the columbine and found one of the catnip plants coming up right next to it! It moved! Funky.


That's not all. I grow oregano all the way across the yard and am now finding it coming up next to the lamb's ear. Now that is funky. I'm not going to pull it because it makes a nice ground cover and I'm wondering what it'll look like over there.


We didn't get in the car at all today and you know how much I love days like this. By the end of the day I feel so relaxed and snuggled into my space. I feel at home.


Part of our afternoon was spent chasing these birds around the yard. What are they? Brown-headed cowbirds? I've never seen them before. The male was running after the female and he would squawk for a bit and then spread his wings and jump up and down in front of her. She seemed annoyed by it all.


Jeff hooked up our new rain barrel the other day and we actually collected several inches last night - exciting! If we got that much from a little rain shower, imagine how much we'll collect from the summer storms. I'm told that once you set up one rain barrel, you will get addicted and want to get one for each down spout. If that's the case, I'm going to need to get the instructions to make my own. They're not cheap.


Here is my "I love my daughter" moment. Today 'A' was busy with her markers and a pile of "post office" stuff I keep for her (mostly the business reply envelopes that come in my junk mail). Look at what she did! She came to me with this one and showed how she copied the letters in "Business". I'm so proud of her. She wants to learn what the letters mean so badly. And do you see the stamp?

First, I have got to unload my baggage: I'm exhausted and my sink is piled high with dishes that I don't feel like doing, my desk is piled high with papers that I don't feel like sorting through, and my bookshelf is piled high with books I want to read but don't feel like opening tonight.

Okay, now on to the good stuff, the thing I feel like doing - recounting our morning trip to the Brookside Museum to see the sheep shearing demonstration!


The Brookside Museum here in Ballston Spa has so many well-organized programs and today we went with the MOMS Club to see their sheep shearing demonstration. I was very impressed with how well it was geared for students of many ages. We were able to see what happens when the sheep are sheared and learn about why it is done. Look at that photo above - yes, that's my 'A' standing in front of the man with the sheep and the shears. No, don't fall over with disbelief, pick yourself up and sit back down. I couldn't believe it either. Her desire to learn won out over her fear of everything. She stood there and watched intently.


Somewhere under that pile of wool is a sheep that's in the process of getting sheared. The shearing that was done today was an interpretation of what would have been done here in the mid-19th century. To make the experience authentic, the shearers used actual shears to clip part of the sheep and then used electric shears for the rest of the sheep, to show the children how it's done today.


Here is the shorn sheep with its two handlers, who by the way told tales with glee, and although none of them seemed too tall, I'm willing to bet that they have a few stretched truths hiding up their sleeves. They interacted well with the visitors and kids.

'A' took this one of the sheep in the pen who were waiting for their turn:


After the sheep are shorn, it's time to wash the wool. The shearing and the washing would have been done in late spring. The children would wash the wool and pick it clean (lots of grass accumulates in the wool and needs to be painstakingly picked out). Then it would all be set aside while the summer gardens were tended and the animals were taken care of, and when autumn turned into winter, the bales of wool would be brought out again and carded and spun and finally woven into cloth.


The woman at the washing station was in period costume. Her dress was made from wool that still had the lanolin in it, making it softer and heavier than today's wool, which is stripped of lanolin. Apparently the cosmetic industry finds lanolin to be too precious to leave on the wool, and they pay top dollar to have it removed and packed up for their use.

The girls got to hold some wool and check it out.


You know, the older I get and the more I learn about how we learn, the more strongly I embrace the idea of "unschooling." In a nutshell, unschooling is letting children explore the world and learn without a predefined curriculum. It allows children to follow their interests.

Take today at the museum. I brought them to the demonstation and introduced them to the idea of sheep shearing. They're too young to really follow the unschooling way, but if they were older, and if they liked the demonstation then as much as they did today, I can see how it could easily lead to learning about the culture and history of textiles, of husbandry, of 19th century social history; if they were old enough (and interested), I would throw in a copy of Little Women, Uncle Tom's Cabin and Huckleberry Finn, introduce them to Abraham Lincoln and the Civil War, and talk about the highs and lows of the reconstruction period. There are so many neat things to learn.

But for now, they're 2 and 4 years old and it's enough to just see that this is all out there, that it exists, and that we can look forward to coming back in the future.


So, they held the wool, and felt the wool...


And washed the wool, a few times...


And then finally put the wool up on the drying rack to dry.


Look at it, fluffy and white, and loaded with little pieces of grass. That grass is what the children would sit and pick out. I guess their good eyes and little fingers are just right for the job.


Now use your imagination and pretend it's cold and you're inside for the winter (I know, if you're up here in the north it wasn't that long ago, so you don't have to stretch your mind that far to remember). It's time to spin the wool to make it usable. Young women would learn to spin by holding the wool with one hand and spinning it with the other. When they got really good at that, it would be time to learn to use the spinning wheel. Most the of technique when using the wheel is still in the hands, so it's important to learn it right with the hands to begin with.

No, it's not possible to prick your finger on a wool spinning wheel, I asked. That only happens on a wheel that spins flax into linen.


After the wool is spun into yarn and wound into skeins, the women would set up the loom and begin to weave. They could do all sorts of patterns with the loom. All of their clothes were made by hand like this. All of them. As much as I like to make things by hand, it makes me really appreciate the modern fabric and clothing manufacture process. I just can't see doing all of this at home.


One of the men who was shearing the sheep told us that not that long ago (less than 100 years ago - this is how you can tell I'm getting older, that I don't consider 100 years to be that long ago), children around here were sewn into their long wool underwear for the winter. When spring came, their mothers cut them out of it. If you had told me that a few years ago before I had experienced the cold winters up here, I would have thought you were crazy. But now I get it. I totally get it.


That's it for my photos and the dishes are still waiting for me, so I'm sending you happy good night wishes and peace for all of your hearts and minds.

Saturday. I love Saturdays so much, and today was another perfect 10 for me. We spent almost the entire day outside. We started out by celebrating the first weekend of the outdoor Saratoga Springs farmer's market with lots and lots of other happy people. It was so nice to walk around and see all of the produce and potted plants and honey and peanut butter and fruit wines and breads... and of course we stopped to listen to the banjo man play too.


I loaded up on some tried and true favorites - asian greens and onions at this time of year - and tried some new treats. When I finally came inside this evening to prepare dinner, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the field greens I had purchased made one of the prettiest salads I have ever seen in my life. The greens were all so unusual! I topped it off with some little yellow edible flowers from the market - brassica flowers - and it looked like a million bucks.


Something else I tried that's new to me: Wood Ramps. They're kind of a cross between green onions and garlic. I washed them up and followed the recipe that the farmer handed out with them and it was delicious.


Spaghetti with Ramps

1/2 lb ramps
1 teaspoon finely grated lemon zest
1/4 cup olive oil
1 lb spaghetti

1. Trim roots from ramps and slip off outer skin on bulbs, if loose. Blanch ramps in a 6-quart pot of boiling salted water, 5 to 10 seconds, lift out of boiling water and transfer to cutting board. Coarsely chop ramps and put in a blender with zest and oil.

2. Add spaghetti to boiling water and cook a few minutes, then ladle out 1/2 cup pasta water and add to blender. Purée ramps until smooth and season with salt. Continue to cook spaghetti until al dente, then ladle out about 1 cup additional pasta water before draining spaghetti in a colander. Return pasta to pot with ramp purée and toss over moderate heat for several minutes, thinning sauce with a little pasta water as needed to coat pasta.


Enough of food. We stopped by the lumber yard after our trip to the farmer's market and picked up supplies for our garden beds. Finally, after a few weeks of discussion, we decided to use cedar to build the beds. It was pricey but worth it. We want the garden to be organic, without any chemicals from treated lumber leaching into the soil over the years.


While I was digging out all of the grass, I must have unearthed a little toad. Jeff spotted it and what good eyes he has, because this little toad had the best camouflage ever. It blended right into the soil! Jeff scooped it up and brought it to the woods to safety. What a nice Friend of Nature he is.


Here are the beds - a work in progress.


Speaking of nature, last night instead of having my Healthy Child, Healthy Planet class, we met at the Saratoga Spa State Park to hear Richard Louv, author of "Last Child in the Woods" and catalyst for the grassroots "No Child Left Inside" campaign, speak at a Children and Nature Saratoga event. Children and Nature Saratoga is a new group - it's actually a collaborative project, and a network - dedicated to encouraging children and their families to spend more time outdoors. It's a group with an activist bent and it was refreshing to be back in that kind of company again after these few years out of that loop (4+ years, since 'A' was born, to be exact). I was struck by the fact that I was one of the youngest people there - many of the attendees had far more grey hair than I (I have about 5 of them). It makes me sad that I haven't seen a strong group of politically active adults under the age of 40 since I moved to upstate New York a few years ago. Maybe it's just the things I'm going to, and it's not reality. I hope so. What happened to all the people Jeff and I went to college with (he went to SUNY Binghamton, I went to UConn)? What about all of the Move On members who registered voters with us in 2004, or marched on the mall in Washington with us (separate rallies, before we knew each other) years ago? They must live here too, right?


On a separate note, we found a bird nest tucked behind the lamp outside our garage door. Sweet! When we first saw it, the mother bird wasn't in it, so I climbed up the ladder to peek and see if there were any eggs in it. Yes! I snapped a quick photo before the mother bird squawked and squawked at me. We're excited to watch them come to life.


The lemon balm burst from the ground while I blinked this week. Lovely... green and fragrant and lovely.


Have a great day.