cheers two thousand ten

The clouds and drizzle last night prevented me seeing the blue moon.  The overcast today prevents me from seeing a blue sky.  Neither take away from the excitement of a new year--a fresh, clear beginning.  Our planet, with her axis tipped oh so slightly to one side as if to say "huh, so this is what it's all about", has carried us safely through another year's journey around the sun.

Last year was a labyrinth of boxes, both physical and metaphorical.  Some of them continue to linger in alleyways, in shadows, in corners, stirring chaos and turbulence.  I am not one to put down resolutions.  They are so finite, constricting,...and, well, yes, boxing.  I believe Ali Edwards is onto something, choosing one little word for the year.  One word that is really not a little word at all, but is charged with intent.  One word that is, in its simplicity, irrefutable and authentic.

The boxes must go, my life simplified, streamlined.  The one word that comes to me over and over is:  clear.  It's such a multi-faceted word; it's a verb, an adjective, and an adverb.  Yes, this one little five letter word is perfect for my boxes.  CLEAR it is!

the damage report

A wee skiff of snow came.  Then the upper 20's cold snap for three nights.  Quite cold for us!  Now it's raining.  The meyer lemons that had set are fine (Diane, you will be happy to know!).  Many of the late fall buds (only a quarter to half inch in size) that had just started to grow into fruit are black with frost damage.  It won't be the thick crops we've had in the past but enough for friends and family to enjoy, none the less.  The bower vine, which provides us with such striking pink-throated white flowers and fabulous seed pods each year, took quite a hit.  I'll wait until spring before I trim the branches, because nature sometimes has a way of popping back from adverse conditions.  Everything else faired quite well.  Some plants, that in other parts of the country would have been dormant a couple months ago but were still blooming here, have now rested for the season.  They'll require some trimming back in preparation for spring.

When the rain stops, leaves will be raked and stems will be cut back.  The plants are taking their winter intermission.  The only thing that will be multiplying and developing will be the compost.

a strong potential

Last week was the sudden thunder, quickly followed by hail.  Little balls of ice that came down quick, hard, and fast.

Tonight there's a hard frost advisory, which in itself warrants a "heads up"--we don't get hard frosts, except on rare occasions.  But attached to this sting of a real frost is a "strong potential" that we will get SNOW!  Snow?!  Don't misunderstand:  I was raised in the stuff, walked to school in the stuff, spent hours playing in the stuff.  But I have gotten "soft" living here in the meek and mild California valley the past fifteen years or so.  I don't even own a windshield scraper.  There's no need.  What little frost that may be on the windshield a few mornings a year can easily be taken care of by the defroster in the time frame my grandpa would say was "two shakes of a lamb's tail".

I've gleened the last of the jalapeno peppers off my plants, which up to now have continued to bloom and produce since spring.  They're hardy plants but they won't survive the potential 27 degree (F) temperatures predicted.  Winter crops which have just started to come up are covered in straw.  Citrus trees are being covered, "house" plants that normally live outside on my patio year-round are being covered, bird feeders are filled.  I'm ready.  Bring it on.

the wool is coming out

That cool snap of fall is definitely here!  Now, I know it's not the same as for friends and family farther north or higher altitudes, but for us in the California valley moderate-climate zones 8 and 9, it's chilly in the evening and early morning (no, really, it is).  I won't discuss the (ahem) near 80 degree (F) weather we have during the day, or mention (only briefly) to you about the lemon trees that have decided to bloom again leaving a sweet scent in the air.  The shadows are longer, the minutes of daylight are dwindling, and the deciduous tree colors are now into the yellows, oranges, reds, and browns.  Those are the perfect signs of seasonal change for savory soup, hot bread, and a favorite mug filled with a tasty warm liquid.

Wool yarn, which was untouchable in the summer heat, has been happily finding its way into my knitting basket and bag.  Six items are checked off the holiday gift list.  Of course that list seems to have a life of its own and appears to be adding items in the middle of the night...my, oh my!  It's a bit concerning when I notice the date on the calendar.  I am, however, determined to stick with my two-fold plan of a handmade and parred down holiday this year.

thank you, september

What a lively month, a month teeming with color pencils, ink, watercolors, canned jams and fruits, last garden harvests, knitting, simplifying, organizing, and celebrating.

Right now, I'm:
::  sensing a shift from summer to autumn (finally)
::  listening to Prairie Home Companion and Pandora
::  savoring fresh apple butter on hot crunchy french bread
::  celebrating my birth day this last day of September (or as my brother-in-law says:  another ring around the trunk, another barnacle on the hull, another candle on the cake, another layer of moss on the rock)
::  sipping hot Moroccan mint green tea
::  playing Gin on the weekends
::  welcoming chance and life
::  falling (once again) deep into the brilliant writings of Margaret Atwood
::  simplifying our home

So I ask, where are you at as this month comes to a close?

something's a-brewing

There's a chill in the air and a gloomy overcast in the sky.  Now, this feels like autumn!  Yes!  Bread dough is rising, spinach and potatoes are being chopped, and the tea pot is whistling.  Today we celebrate that snap in the air with hot french bread and steaming soup.

five halves

Everything around here seems to be split into two halves.  Nothing is quite done, but too far to just stop.

::  autumn equinox is upon us once again--half sunlight, half darkness.
::  my work space at home is spread out in the hallway and living room while I catalog, organize, shred, and shelve.  Must...get...it...done.

 
::  I had bushels of peaches and apples (a few pears were thrown in for kicks).  Peaches are done.  Apples are not.

::  Handmade goods for the upcoming holidays are coming along.  I must confess that they are not halfway completed; however, they are all planned out and budgeted.
::  Yard clean-up/trim-up done.  The garden is looking neglected and, well, used.  It's slated for clean-up for autumn/winter planting this weekend.

don't forget about "me"

"When I grow up, I want to remember that I always wanted to be about a thousand different things and one lifetime didn't seem nearly enough. When I grow up, I hope it's at the very end when it doesn't matter anymore anyway."

**story people**

School is well underway for the year.  I get great joy in teaching children, in sharing my excitement for learning, writing, reading, and the amazing world of numbers.  When I can work beyond the dry mandated curriculum, when I can have the learning take place by seeing, doing, experimenting, exploring...that's when I see those "ah ha" moments in their eyes and an animation in their discussions.  And my heart flies knowing that the big idea, the concept, will stick with them because it has become a part of their exploration using all their senses.  Sadly those times are few and far.  Teaching to the test, for the test, is the norm.  A teacher's job may depend on the test scores being high (which means successful in the government's eyes).

~It is almost a miracle that modern teaching methods have not yet entirely strangled the holy curiousity of inquiry; for what this delicate little plant needs more than anything, besides stimulation, is freedom~ Albert Einstein

We, as a planet, need creative, revolutionary thinkers-tinkerers.  We need students who can, yes, be able to answer the questions put to them, but who also know those answers not because they have memorized the words, the phrase, the formula, but know those answers because the questions have been explored, felt, pondered, experimented, connected.

We need students who will grow up, keeping some of that inner child with them, that sense of wonder.  Take a moment to watch this creative wee animation, which captures my heart.

I know I have that child in me and she pops out quite regularly (sometimes my fabulous husband thinks she's out a lot).  I'm the adult you will find playing in the puddle, noticing the mushrooms sprouting, daydreaming while watching clouds.  I'm the teacher who thinks about that puddle, those mushrooms and clouds, and wonders how to use these to teach and explore about physics, biology, mathematics, writing, and reading.

I'm the teacher who regularly takes the classroom outside.  We take our reading, discussing, experimenting, calculating outside with sunshine, fresh air, and movement.

I'm the teacher who has opted out of taking on a classroom full time.  I'm not sure where these thoughts I've shared here will lead me in my zest for teaching, learning, and exploration.  I do know that this is the right move for me.  I'm excited, a bit nervous, and completely pumped about my options and opened avenues!  Yes!  Welcome September and creativity and zest!

a history in sand

This video is quite moving and so much more than simply saying "amazing".


From Youtube: "Kseniya Simonova is a Ukrainian artist who just won Ukraine's version of 'America's Got Talent.' She uses a giant light box, dramatic music, imagination and 'sand painting' skills to interpret Germany's invasion and occupation of Ukraine during WWII."

color explosions

The "arts" component of education has been stripped away over the years, replaced with what feels like "drill and kill" and "teaching to/for the test". Quite sad. It creates teachers and students who are starving for color, movement, and life.

As the school year gears up each September, Sacramento has a sidewalk art festival, called "Chalk It Up!" to raise money for children's art education. In their words:

"Chalk-It-Up! to Sacramento is a non-profit organization created to benefit children's art education programs. Chalk-It-Up! raises money through several annual events including its annual Festival.

All money raised by Chalk-It-Up! funds grants, sponsorships and art programs for children throughout the Sacramento region."

It's a feast of the senses to walk around this small block of park each year--the intense, saturated colors of chalk, the live music on stage, the giggles of both children and adults, the amazing graphic art. I especially love the almost palpable creative energy that just seems to bubble up and transform these ordinary strips of sidewalk into something temporarily beautiful.

a banner end to august

A friend warned me about the current placement of Mercury but who knew it would involve a small fire (a smolder, really) in my dryer? Oh, and who, I would like to know, has their dryer professionally cleaned each year, as suggested by the manufacturer?! Well, the short version is that we now have a new dryer, and believe me, it will get cleaned out each year (by me).

The first thing I thought of, as the dryer and washer were being pulled out by my cool-headed engineer husband, was to clean behind those appliances and choose a fresh wall color. Painting makes me happy and who gets these kinds of opportunities to freshen up a room that is normally filled with heavy household machines? (It's also a fantastic way to rid the small room of that burnt-electrical-blackened-lint smell.)

I must confess, I find joy in walking the hardware store. The shiny ladders in so many different sizes, the isles of tools that I'm sure I could use for something, the neat stacks of fresh lumber with that lingering smell of pine, the many rainbows of paint chips. The final color choice: "Sage Sweater".  I believe a fine fitting name.

fresh-picked peaches and a multitude of berries leads to...

...spending an outstanding afternoon teaching a friend to make jam for her first time--she loves the "pop" of the lids as they seal almost as much as I do.

...mixing boysenberries, blackberries, marionberries, logan berries, blueberries, strawberries, and peaches for a flavor that is so extraordinary and intense.


...making fresh loaves of banana bread, topped with cream cheese to properly sample the still-warm berry jam (my man's new favorite snack).

...constructing a peach cobbler to share at knit night.

wordless wednesday :: nephews at oregon creek

rolling on vacation

Eighteen hundred air miles and six hours in not-made-for-comfort airplane seats took us to Chicago for a week.

Didn't take a camera (so sad, really). How did that happen? I needed, no...longed, pined, craved for, my camera.

There were fireflies, city rats, three-foot narrow spaces between lovely narrow two-and-three-story brick houses leading to secret gardens in the back, ornate iron gates, brownstone houses that would make your knees weak, sidewalk fairs, Chicago "dipped" beef sandwiches with cheese and hot peppers requiring half-a-dozen napkins per person, the Newberry Library book sale, fresh beet salad (beets gathered at a farmers market), spectacular afternoon thunder storms, sidewalk cafes with some seriously amazing foods, card playing into the wee hours of the night, rib-sticking German food (complete with live polka music and a dance floor), an evening at the Steppenwolf Theatre to see "Up", and an evening with family, friends, wine, with my husband's own recipe made-from-scratch beef wellington dinner.

A few facts to share:

:: second, third, and fourth story walk-ups have steep, narrow stairs that list ever so slightly to one side.

:: everyone I know in Chicago lives up these stairs.

:: neither wine nor beer improve the ability to trek these stairs.

:: people who live in Chicago are used to walking and traveling in distances measured in minutes and blocks (and in the case of using a cab, in dollars), not miles.

:: cities are noisy and have a cornucopia of smells (let me just say, not all good).

:: airports, buses and subways are the best for people-watching.

forestry camp

Hey ho ... a dear friend and I have returned from the Stanislaus National Forest with six days of forestry camp for teachers (Forestry Institute for Teachers: FIT). Early mornings, late evenings, games, presentations, soil digging, tree measuring, star gazing, sleeping bags, campfire songs with fiddle and guitar, s'mores (no sir, no camp would be able to hold their head high without that sugar-fest of chocolate, graham crackers, and roasted marshmallows), as well as field trips to private and federal logging sites, a cedar saw mill, and a co-generation electric plant (which cleanly burns the waste from the saw mill as well as the collected yard waste from homes nearby--now this is good green technology; what little waste the plant creates is used in dairies).

We came back with many books, knowledge (from all the various viewpoints left to right), and the best hands-on supplies to outfit a study unit on forestry.

I think we also came back weighing at least five extra pounds. It seemed to always be meal time, with the most delicious banquets. Between the meals there were never-ending freshly prepared snacks (rice crispy treats, warm cookies, popcorn, fruit).

Proof below that I am not the only goofy teacher who dresses up.