My little bird watcher

Truman is very interested in birds and wildlife right now. He is especially into "huntin' coons" (looking for raccoons) and learning the names of the different bird species that are in our yard (lately: thrushes, juncos, wrens, humming birds, chickadees, and sometimes a towee or two).

Welcome spring!

Full moon fire!

Beers. Friends. Bonfire.

Happy 36th Mr. Shutt!

Inspiring teachers

If you read the news and are paying attention, you know that there is a lot of bad news about public schools. In Washington, we like to balance the budget on the backs of schoolchildren and it is depressing.

I have to remind myself that our schools are not dismal places. That really amazing people are teaching kids, and that public schools can inspire young minds.

When I stop by Jason’s class – the kids are filled with life. They are always out of their seats. They use these amazing tools – clickers and probes and computers – to learn physical science.

I was glad when the Bainbridge Schools Foundation asked Jason if they could feature him (and three other teachers) in a short documentary about teaching in our community.

If you don’t have eight minutes to watch, he is at 1:55 and 4:08

   

The cutest things you do

Dear Truman,

You have started calling yourself "Dodie". You can't quite pronounce Truman, so Dodie has become the name you use. It melts my heart. Multiple times each day I hear you saying, "Daddy, mommy, doggy, dodie." You always have the biggest grin when I tell you, "Mama loves dodie."

You also love to play a game called "Big Baby". After tubby time, you always shout "BABY" as you climb out of the bath. I wrap you in a towel, you fake cry, and I carry you to daddy for snuggles. This weekend you wanted to spend some time in your beautiful cradle playing Big Baby. Your daddy thinks I might be creating a monster by encouraging this game, but I think it is just so sweet. You are not much of a snuggler or cuddler, so Big Baby is mama's chance to smother you, rock you, and feel your heartbeat next to mine.

Tonight you wanted us all to pretend we were baby lambs. And when I put you to bed you patted your chest and said, "Dodie, lamb".

You are world famous for your hugs. People always comment on how enthusiastically you will wrap your arms around their neck and give them a warm squeeze. You are also very loving to cats and dogs, always petting them so gently and trying to sneak in a little hug if they will allow it.

When I put you to bed at night we always say goodnight to all the animals in our yard. Goodnight owls. Goodnight thrushes. Goodnight worms. Goodnight voles. Goodnight salamanders. This little routine is our special way of getting ready for sleep and it always seems to make you happy and settled to think that your animal buddies are snuggling up in their nests at the same time as you.

Goodnight Dodie. You are a precious gift.

Missing the farm

We stopped by Seabold farm this week. The farm where we lived for 3.5 years.

 

It is a special place to me and I have been thinking about it a lot lately. We lived in a tiny apartment and spent most of our evenings and weekends outside, admiring the view while we repaired fences, weeded the garden, and collected eggs. We learned how to press cider. Make honey. Prune apple trees.

It is also the place where we lived when Truman was born.

When we moved to our current house—the house surrounded by giant cedar and fir trees—we were thankful for the respite from the farm. We were tired of all the additional work.

This year, as winter moves into spring, I am really missing the farm. I miss getting my hands dirty and making farm-to-table meals. I miss the sunshine. And I really miss the lambs. Their promise of spring. The taste of meat that you know was treated humanely and killed with great respect.

I heard the current caretaker of the farm is moving on and I admit that I spent several days scheming. We could rent out our house and move back! We could live in 500 feet again! Spending every Saturday in the garden and orchard is not a bad way to live! I could talk Jason into it!

 Ah. The grass is always greener. It is so easy to forget the gifts of the present moment. So once again, I am reminding myself of today’s gifts: Giant cedar trees. Dozens of Thrushes in the yard. An owl and a coyote. Salamanders mating in the pond. A mossy, muddy yard that requires very little attention. A gravel driveway, filled with potholes that we can’t or won’t repair, but that make perfect puddles for Truman. Saturdays that allow for relaxing and traveling.

And beautiful memories of our farming adventure. Stories to tell my grandchildren when I am old and gray. A chapter of a live well lived.

Making "guys" for Truman

This was a quick and easy craft project. Cheap too. I used my go-to acrylic paints that cost $1 each at the craft store and I sealed them with Modge Podge so the paint won't chip. This crew of superheroes is for Truman, but I am thinking that it would be fun to make some others for birthday gifts for our littlest buddies. I borrowed the idea from various craft blogs (just google "wooden peg dolls" for all sorts of ideas).

I gave them to Truman after breakfast and he immediately put them all to bed in his dollhouse. :)

Trip to Dungeness Spit

For several years, the Dungeness Spit on the Olympic Peninsula has been calling my name. A few weeks ago, we made the trip with our friends Susan and Jeff, and their little guy Quinn. On the drive up, I imagined us packing the boys on our backs and walking the full 5.5 mile jetty of sand and rock.

Har har. I can be so overly ambitious. We literally made it 50 feet when the boys decided they would rather sit down in the sand, climb on logs, and eat our picnic lunch. But the view was incredible—snowy mountains to the left, a skewer of land piercing the ocean to the right.

One day, when I am an old lady I will walk the full length of the spit. For now, it was the perfect family outing with some of our favorite buddies.

Did your mom used to go on strike?

When I was a kid, my mom would occasionally go on strike.

It always sent my dad into a fury. He would start throwing orders around. I can still hear him yelling:

   Make the beds!

   Do the the dishes!

   Take my tighty-whiteys off the dog!

   Put the bunny and hamsters back in their cages!

   Climb out of the dumbwaiter . . . . NOW!

Pretty soon, he would have the BBQ fired up and he would throw some frozen meat on the grill. My siblings and I would be quiet, cautious. Guilty.
 
Looking back, I love her for this. I love that 99 percent of the time she gave her entire heart and soul to her family. And I love that 1 percent of the time she reminded us what ungrateful sh*ts we were.

Good job, Mom. I love borrowing pages from your playbook. xoxo

Picnic in the living room

Sometimes dinner is best served in the living room.

On a blanket.

With no sides and no veggies.

Just easy, easy, easy.

Are those suspenders you're wearing?

Why, yes. Yes they are.

Phew. Friday. Thank you for arriving at our doorstep. We plan to spend most of the weekend looking for a used car - which means Jason will look for a used car and I will complain about the massive amount of anxiety I feel when shopping for a used car. We also plan to get outside and walk the Dungeness Spit (which is one of my 12 goals for this year, potentially the only one I will cross off the list, har har.) Happy weekend!