bare foot notes

feeding calves at 10 degrees

2012-01-19T06:53:00.006-07:00

Sometimes I'm amazed
at the directions my life
has taken. It is good

to know I can still
surprise myself;
to feel that sudden gratitude

for a version of my life
I hadn't planned on.
To feel so at peace

watching steam rise
from shaggy warm bodies
as the sky fills with wings;

a thousand ducks
moving from the river
to the fields for the night,

weaving their paths
like lace
above my head.

New

2012-01-04T21:09:00.002-07:00

Happy New Year from our living room

This year's winter
has been indecisive;
a bit of snow one day then
laundry hanging out
on the line in full sun
the next.

I keep waiting
for a real arrival.

An antelope herd races my car...

The last few weeks
we've slowed our pace,
shifted priorities.
I love a clean slate.

A rare winter rainbow outside of Fairmont Hot Springs

Resolutions...I haven't made one
in years. But there is something
about a new year;
the way it frames vague intentions
and sharpens
my focus.

New snow, ghost town cabin

And while I haven't declared
this the year of any one
particular undertaking,
my thoughts &
intentions swirl me toward
Time. With a capital T.

Time to catch my breath,
and forget about
what is supposed to come
next.
Time for my family, my friends,
for trying something new.
Time for myself.

Amaryllis; before & after

Time to enjoy now,
because things change
so
quickly.

barefoot december

2011-12-20T17:50:00.001-07:00

Glimpses of the last few days...it's almost Christmas!

barefoot in december...

I completely understand the urge to worship the sun this time of year...each sunrise seems to outdo the day before. I love that the darkest time or year is offset with such fabulous light.

Then this strange midday winter sun...I feel snow coming...

Loving all this red & green in the mailbox...

and hearing from friends & family spread across the country...

Mama, I'm a chicken whisperer...

11 new inhabitants settling into our pasture,

Breakfast beneath the Christmas tree,

Don't even try to find red ric rac in southwest montana...for I have used it all!

No snow for proper snow angels...so grass angels instead.

That's all for now.

Merry Christmas All!

morning notes

2011-12-16T22:08:00.004-07:00

After so many crisp
brilliant mornings
we woke to fog;
coldsmoke you could taste,
could hold in your mouth
like a breath of winter.

The sun rose
over the Ruby Mountains,
swept the valley;
leaving an intricate
frosting of ice
on everything.

Inside, we started
the day slowly;
fireplace, coffee, blocktowers.

Good morning...

* * *

P.S. Guess who has a dance recital Saturday?

making

2011-12-09T20:34:00.002-07:00

The moon is a day away from full,
the edges crystal clear as the temperature
drops below the 20s.

We've spent the last few days busily
making...making...making...
lists, gifts, more lists...

Amelia's gift for Aven - a stuffed horse we drew then sewed - and wrapping paper/artwork with a wildflower (because Aven is a kind of wildflower, mama)

Aven's gift for 'May' is still a work in progress...

Making new friends...this is Sylvia.
Amelia has been asking for a cat
for about a year now. This lady
just started hanging around.
Smart cat.

Making time to rest after a long walk to the mailbox...

Making time to celebrate winter's approach...

and these days of gorgeous sun
we keep waking up to.

More gifts for friends,
using what we have around;

Making...

our small light in the darkness.

gratitude & contrast

2011-12-08T20:40:00.002-07:00

This morning the sun
poured in the windows
like something
you could drink.

It glossed the white
walls of my mudroom,
lit up the lacy frost
edging each window.

Some things are so much
better when you draw back
and see them in context;

my day has been full
of this.

That moment
when you notice
some small
miraculous thing.

Like salad greens in December
(after surviving -8 the other night.)
still garnished with a little frost.

Or the 20 (20!) eggs I gathered this afternoon
from the alphabet hens (one for each letter),

or finding cookie cutters
scattered with seed catalogs
across my kitchen table.

There is so much gratitude
in every breath.

december notes

2011-12-05T20:30:00.004-07:00

Here in the northern hemisphere,
we have 17 days more
until the earth begins her gentle tilt
back toward the sun.
I am counting them.

I am feeling the longer darkness
in my bones, in my dreams,
in the way my thoughts
brush slowly against each other;
like bodies moving underwater.

Today was cold and brilliant;
a dazzling bluegold day, I felt my face
tip to the sun like a flower
drinking rays. I felt my hands
tingle and go stiff as I threw hay
to the horse & llamas, shook a can
of wheat under the olive tree
for the chickens to find.

Sparrows & finches spray
from the feeder to the bushes
as I walk by, their collective sound
in flight is like a sigh;
dry grass rushing
in a sudden breeze.

This is what I mean.
I appreciate this slowing,
this return to the elemental
at the end of the year; light, warmth,
food; I feel things
with a deliberate intensity
whether it is sunlight on my face,
bread dough beneath my hands,
wool around my neck.

What would I do with myself
without seasons?

a week of november; postcards

2011-11-11T20:45:00.006-07:00

untitled

2011-10-20T21:30:00.004-06:00

New snow on the mountains
and the hills just
call and call
for you to climb them.

Out here I am so aware
of the scale of things;
the throbbing orange life
of lichen on rock,
the mountains in every direction,
the sweep and rise
to sky.

That we can just
take an hour
before evening
and be here.

Makes my heart
happy.

farm notes

2011-10-09T22:01:00.003-06:00

It was 27 degrees here when we woke up this morning. Then it cooled right down to 25 degrees before it started to warm up. Even the hoop house can't rally over digits like that. The basil is no more. The eggplants look sorry. Tomatoes and peppers are touch and go at this point. Cucumbers will be remembered fondly. (Sigh).

The blow is softened, though, by those that like it cold; radishes are looking good, spinach is kicking, chard and kale look (and taste) better than ever. It's salad season. Again.

And in other farm news, we pulled up a few onions,

And these ladies...

have begun to lay.

We continue to cut, blanche, can, freeze....oh, and eat. Already opened the first jar of this year's salsa.

Fall skies and orange pumpkins...

more than enough

2011-10-06T09:00:00.005-06:00

The other day we went to the woods
with a plan.

We needed six or seven
small lodgepole pines
to build a tipi for the girls.

Of course we found more than enough.

And a fire ring
beside a stream.

Now...to build a tipi
or two.

p.s. A friend told me that she had been unable to write comments on my posts - and I LOVE getting comments. So I may have(hopefully) fixed this. If you are so inclinded to comment, please do; it's nice to know you're out there!

three things

2011-10-05T15:17:00.006-06:00

The sky's a bruised gray;
rain and wind has kept us in
all afternoon.

She finished off the last watermelon,
softball sized and pale pink inside
planted too late in the season.

I've kept the woodstove burning low
and when her hair
was dry we tried a braid.
Her first.

weekend, again

2011-09-27T21:01:00.003-06:00

This time of year, I feel so nostalgic for everything. I miss the bleached gold fields of wheat stubble as they are plowed under, and the radiant blue bowl of sky we've had every day for weeks, even as I wake to it for (at least) one more day. Every cell in my body knows these seasonal rhythms. These long days of early fall are savored because they are fleeting.

Saturday was Dillon's final Farmers Market of the season, and I miss it already. It sounds crazy, but these early Saturday mornings, two folding tables, thrift-store-baskets full of vegetables I'd grown...and these simple things allow me to feel like I'm living out a fantasy I've had for years. It has been such a good thing for me. Maybe it's not so crazy at all.

On Sunday, while Mike stalked the elusive Elk, the girls and I set out on an adventure. Elk Horn Hot Springs is only 50 miles from our front door, but we had never taken the time to visit. So we threw our suits, towels, and some snacks in the car and we were off (actually, it is never really that simple, but that is the lovely thing about memmory...)

The Grasshopper Valley is breathtakingly stunning. The mountains are unbelievably close and craggy and comforting all at the same time. The community is quirky and small...walking through Ma Barnes Country Store felt a little like stepping into an eposide of Northern Exposure. I love it. For a second I was ready to relocate...

Traffic jam in Polaris, MT

The hot springs was wonderful, with golden aspen leaves rattling overhead and a mellow Sunday feeling over the whole place. The sky clouded up, then cleared. The girls took turns jumping from the slick blue-painted steps. I had good conversations with complete strangers and Amelia quickly implanted herself into a group of kids.

Just beyond the hot springs we found a great stream and hung out for a while, dipping toes, befriending caterpillars, soaking in the day.

This caterpillar is now living in a clear plastic spinach tub (with holes poked in the top, of course). He has met Amelia's entire preschool class, and explored my mudroom for a bit before being found and returned to his moss-lined spinach tub. His name is Arthur.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"The day is like wide water, without sound
Stilled for the passing of her dreaming feet..."

Wallace Steves, Sunday Morning

why, hello there fall

2011-09-25T22:05:00.003-06:00

We've had some great weekends lately; mini-road trips, an equinox potluck with friends, farmers market, hotsprings, soaking up the incredibly blue September sky, and feeling our manic summer rhythm slow down just a little.

Last weekend we ventured to the Bitterroot to see friends (and new babies!) then up to my mom's cabin for our last night at the lake until next spring.

We walked by this 'cabin' and I loved the quilt hanging over the railing - so very 'fall-in-the-mountains.'

I loved this picture of Amelia looking at these yellow leaves, because it expresses the way I've always felt toward the beginning of fall - a little tentative, not quite willing to let go of my (slight) mourning for summer, but still a bit impressed. Why, hello there fall...

Then back home again, and it seems everything around me is reaching, stretching, growing for that last bit of warmth;

On our way into town the other morning, Garrison Keillor read a poem by Louise Erdrich on the radio that really resonated for me. I keep coming back to one particular line:

The Glass and the Bowl

The father pours the milk from his glass
into the cup of the child,
and as the child drinks
the whiteness, opening
her throat to the good taste
eagerly, the father is filled.
He closes the refrigerator
on its light, he walks out
under the bowl of frozen darkness
and nothing seems withheld from him.
Overhead, the burst ropes of stars,
the buckets of craters,
the chaos of heaven, absence
of refuge in the design.
Yet down here, his daughter
in her quilts, under patterns
of diamonds and novas,
full of rich milk,
sleeping.

I love the line; "nothing seems withheld from him."

I'm living through days that feel that way.
I am keeping my eyes open, drinking in these last gold days.

Nothing seems withheld.

deep breath

2011-09-20T21:04:00.004-06:00

After a day of feeling like I am, quite possibly, not cut out for this mama-gig...

I put the girls to bed upstairs, and take a minute alone.
To think about the things I noticed today
that I am so grateful for.

* the sound of a dried leaf blowing along the sidewalk as I walked downtown
* Aven patting my shoulder and telling me I love you, too because she is so used to being told first
*Amelia going to bed with big plans to make coffee for me in the morning (we set up the coffee maker, she just has to turn it on when she comes down in the morning)
*The bowl on my kitchen table overflowing with red tomatoes, and having our first salad of fall greens with dinner tonight
*finding time to do something just for myself - even if it is just sitting on the porch watching the sky get dark

*That tomorrow I will get to try again.

tiny dancer

2011-09-14T14:38:00.004-06:00

We're back to semi-scheduled days.
Mornings of breakfastbrushhairteethgetdressedbackpacksnacksshoeshurryoutthedoor

(yes really)

Oh, and time for reading on the couch a little before locating shoes...

Aven had her first dance class today.
I think sometimes her big sister overshadows her, and I was thinking she may be a little hesitant trying something new all by herself.

Um, no. She tapped her little heart out.
And how did it happen
that there appears to be very little trace of 'baby' left in that girl?

morning notes

2011-09-13T13:47:00.003-06:00

I woke up early this morning to a quiet house. The air felt still and heavy.
Wind had come up overnight and brought smoke in from Idaho. Across the valley, I could barely make out the Ruby Mountains.

sunrise through the windbreak

Mike had gone to the mountains and the girls slept quietly upstairs. I took a minute to straighten up the kitchen and found this self portrait on the table;

and this note on the counter from Mike;

fyi guys; a tissue box makes a very romantic notecard when your significant other has a headcold.
Well played, Mike.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

2011-09-11T13:45:00.004-06:00

This morning I woke
to my daughter crawling into bed
with me, to new sunlight
warming the walls.

I woke slowly, made coffee, set
a bowl of bread dough
in the window to rise.

As the day warmed I hung
clean laundry on the line
to absorb the day, the air

finally clear of smoke after a week
of wildfire. I watched my children

build castles in the sandbox, study
the moving shadows of leaves
across their arms and legs.

This day.
I move slowly
through it.

Ten years ago the world
was falling apart.

I hadn't known for hours afterward;
without a television, the radio
left off that morning. I'd gone
for a run in Greenough Park,
ignored a phone call from my mom
asking if I was okay.

I walked to class in a strange quiet.
I still didn't know.

On campus, people were huddled
around TVs, watching the same
loop of footage. The buildings fell
and fell. I stood and watched, too.
What else could I have done?

In class, my poetry professor
wept. We tried to share
what we knew,
which was little.

It was a golden day; late
summer honeylight
like it is today.

Today I am sitting on my porch ,
watching my children,
trying to decide which parts
of this to carry
with me.

What I will do is this;
I will pack seven quarts of tomatoes
into jars for the winter, I will freeze
these peppers and squash.

I will teach my children peace
and kindness. I will take the time
to reflect, to heal. I will bake
the dough rising in the window.

I will remember.
I will write this poem.

settle

2011-09-09T13:45:00.010-06:00

I was not raised by settlers. Both of my parents have lived a lot of different places; even just in the last few years. So have my brother and sister. From tropical islands, to the desert, to mountain-ringed college towns; my people are spread out. And they tend to keep moving. Luckily for me, they have always chosen places I love to visit.

I've never lived anywhere for more than 6 years at a time, and while that doesn't seem particularly nomatic, I still think of myself as someone who can pack up, pick up, and put down - planting a new life in a new town with a new perspective. My circuit has been small - minus a three month stint in the Caribean - each town I've lived in is within a few hundred miles of the next one.

From my driveway in Beaverhead County, I look up at the west side of the Tobacco Root Mountains, but as a kid growing up in Bozeman I knew the outline of their eastern side.

While these moves have made me more adaptable and self-reliant, creating a new 'home' can be difficult. It is important to me to feel like I'm part of a community. Even traveling in foreign countries, I have an urge to belong, to really know a place, to know its people, its rhythms.

It is a basic thing, I think, to want to feel connected to the people around us. To feel invested in the place we live.

The other day my dad sent me and email with this piece of a poem;

"The true meaning of life is to plant trees under
whose shade you do not expect to sit-"
Nelson Henderson

So this all leads me to the original point of this post, which is to say that I'm beginning to feel very a home in my newest setting. I'm beginnning to feel like I have a tribe of friends to call for support, favors, sharing ideas or bits of our days. I feel like I'm finally doing something I've wanted to do for a long time, by growing and selling at the farmers market. I'm excited about things to come; both in new friendships, and new adventures in farming.

I'm looking forward to the changing schedule of our days, too, as Amelia goes back to preschool three mornings a week, and both girls begin dance classes. They are changing so quickly. The other evening we went to the playground and instead of Aven's usual requests to catch me, mama, or help me, mama, little sister wants to do it all by herself. And she did. Even the fast slide.

And we have baby swallows in the barn. It is sort of irrelevant to anything I've said, but it makes me really happy.

Happy weekending out there!

fall planting

2011-09-07T20:54:00.003-06:00

I'm trying some new things in the garden this fall. With the added protection of the hoop house, I'm planting things that like it cool with the hope of harvesting through the fall (and maybe even winter). I've been reading this book and am excited to see if I can actually make it happen here in southwest Montana.

The other day, Mike and I pulled out the spent corn plants and the rest of the peas. In their place, I planted carrots, spinach, lettuce, kale, and beets. I've never done so much planting in September, and I love the thought of walking into the hoop in February to dig a few carrots for dinner.

A newly seeded bed

Meanwhile the tomatoes are rolling in. So far the productivity award goes to the 'Silvery Fir Tree' plants for early red lovelies and loaded vines. If you have a short season, and you've never tried them - I recommend.

The second cutting of hay is down in our pasture. With a forcast of hot dry days ahead of us, the whole valley seems to be filling with the smell of freshly cut hay. Summer doesn't feel quite over yet...

turning

2011-09-04T21:11:00.003-06:00

I've been feeling this urge lately to celebrate the 'turning.' As summer begins to slip into fall, I seem to focus more and more on the details. The daily celebrations of this very minute. From eating raw tomatoes standing barefoot in the garden, to pointing and catching my breath as Canadian geese fly low over our house in perfect formation.

This time of year we are balanced so precariously on the edge of a new season, and that means colors intensify, life slows down a bit (even when we're still racing from the garden, to the river, to the girls' first day of dance class). There is time to reflect.

And lately, reflection has looked a lot like celebration.

The Beaverhead County Fair is a big deal. Labor Day weekend in Dillon is a big deal. I absolutely love the fair. I love the glossy animals, the talk of harvest, the pies, the quilts, the little boys in giant straw cowboy hats. There is something so fundamental about it all. There is pride in the making, raising, growing of something useful.

And then there is the cotton candy.

We did it up right, bought bracelets for unlimited rides, and stayed until it got dark and all the lights came on.
Until next year...

The weekend was full. I sold veggies at our local farmers market, the girls and I floated the Madison with an old friend and her kids, we lined up on the median of Helena Street in Dillon with friends to watch the Labor Day Parade and catch candy in our hats. Clear cold skies alternately brought our first frost, and radiated an intense fall-blue.

Apparently, the chickens like cold, left-over spaghetti...

Our wheat has been combined and is on its way to becoming many many many loaves of bread. Mike is thinking winter wheat, which means this field may not be just stubble for long.

I took the girls on possibly the most ill-planned of hikes in my experience as a mama.

When we got to the trailhead, I realized Amelia had no shoes, only water-sock type things that are at least one size too small. Aven had poured apple juice all over her pants. As in saturated. So her pants remained spread out on the hood of my car (trying to dry) while we began our 'hike.' Of course Aven immediately fell and scraped her knee. Then did it again. And again.

What I love, though, is that later that evening, when I looked at the pictures I took, it looked like we'd had a pretty good time.

We stopped to explore a hand-hewn log cabin.

And, really, that is why I keep coming back to this space, this blog. Because when I look back on my day it is full of the most incredible string of moments. I don't see the mountains of laundry, or the diaper changes, or the times I fall short and lose my patience. I see us having a pretty damn good time.

And we do. Really. Every day.

Here's to embracing the turning; as we move through it, and as we look back on it.

to-do list for September 1st

2011-09-01T20:00:00.003-06:00

1. Go for a bike ride (with new birthday bike)

2. Turn roadside chokecherries into jelly.

3. Head out into the (slightly cool) sunshine after naps (with blanket and sock-monster).

4. Read under the trees with our newest family member, Ruby.

5. Trim, blanche, cool, and freeze about one million green beans.

A good start to the new month and the new season.

five things (on a friday)

2011-07-29T06:00:00.001-06:00

So I've been in a bit of a funk lately. This kind of thing usually catches me in February when funkiness (not the good kind) is abundant. Feeling a little down and just generally 'off' is not usual for me, especially during a fabulous full-on gorgeous Montana summer.

So I'm trying to take a little time amid the chaos of everyday to appreciate and enjoy the things that make me happy.

Scarborough Fair herbs; parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme

The fabulous and fearless 'Sisters A' perform in my living room

Garlic is harvested, braided, and hanging to cure in the barn

Aven's wispy, wild hair just after she wakes from a nap

Clean laundry hanging on the line, and blue skies.

Happy Friday, out there!

the blackfoot

2011-07-27T06:18:00.000-06:00

If you asked me to name my favorite song, favorite book, even favorite ice cream flavor, I would have to take a minute and think about it. And the answer may be different depending on the time of day, my frame of mind, whether or not I had time for three full cups of coffee that morning. But if you ask me which is my favorite river, I don't even have to think about it.

Last week on our way between Seeley Lake and Missoula, we stopped at a fishing access and spent some time at one of my favorite spots in Montana. I've been stopping at this spot for as long as I can remember. There is just something so soulfeeding about the golden beaches, the rocky cliffs, the green water. I feel so at home here.

And they are such water lovers. When Aven sees any body of water out the window of the car, she begins to lobby; "Dip toes, Mama, dip toes there!"

I can usually be persuaded.

"I wish I had a river so long,
it would teach my feet to fly..." Joni Mitchell, River

the picture I didn't take

2011-07-26T17:07:00.002-06:00

I am walking down Wilson Avenue in Bozeman, beneath a ceiling of thick green maple leaves. The air is still and hot. It is the end of July. Across the street a crowd slowly emerges from a funeral home, blinking into the bright day, comforting one another in the quiet circle they form on the sidewalk. Just ahead of me, walks my dad carrying Aven in one arm. She has just fallen and hurt herself. She needs to be comforted, too. Amelia walks beside me, her hand in mine, watching the funeral-goes gather across the street. This is a picture; a memory I see as a still-frame, though it is nothing more than a memory. There is a lesson here, I'm still working through. Something about staying present, about living the day we have in front of us. It is also about the way I feel watching my dad carefully carry my daughter through this moment of the day. And in this moment, I am so intensely grateful.

today's harvest

2011-07-21T08:00:00.003-06:00

And now it is 10 pm. So naturally, I'm trimming, blanching, and freezing peas.

smells like summertime

2011-07-20T12:40:00.004-06:00

I have this memory that makes me smile.

Eight years ago, on a long sunny evening in the middle of July, I drove my beat-up Subaru wagon across the Higgins Street Bridge in Missoula, with all the windows down, every seat in the car taken by someone I loved like family, my good friend Walsh, hanging out the window like an excited lab, proclaiming; "It smells like summertime!" at the top of his lungs.

Then we went to the Top Hat and had just enough beer to decide to float the river. Right that minute. We inflated my raft just as it became dark, and set out for a night float down the Clark Fork River. This was not an atypical evening when I was 22.

So this morning as I snipped basil that was threatening to flower, I remembered Walsh's words.

Like breathing in the smell of cottonwoods and sunshine over the Higgins Street Bridge, fresh basil smells like summertime.

I dug out my mom's wonderous pesto recipe. Can you tell it's been used before?

I love how simple pesto is. You just smash everything together.

I froze most of it to enjoy when it definitely does not smell like summertime (February, ugh), but I smeared a little on a tortilla with tomatoes (not mine...yet) and cottage chesse. Mmmmmm.

growing food

2011-07-07T22:23:00.004-06:00

Thank you sun, water, and seeds. Oh, and that grant from the NRCS...thankful for that,too!

oh june, we love you so

2011-07-01T14:30:00.004-06:00

Since this is a bit overdue; a (nearly) wordless tribute to (one of) my favorite month(s). Got that?

Amelia was so excited about her birthday balloons, she tried to bring them along when she went to the bathroom.

what are we doing today?

2011-05-25T06:41:00.004-06:00

After a slow start, it feels like warmer weather is finally here. The trees and bushes all look like impressionist paintings, fuzzy with the soft blur of new growth. New spring green can feel a bit blinding after such a long winter; and I feel hungry for it, I want to drink in the green fields by the mouthful. This is my favorite time of year.

While I'm applying sunscrean like a maniac, searching for hats and shoes to get us all out into the sunlight, the girls seem to take the new season in stride. In their present-centered way, they awake each morning, whether it is raining out or brilliant blue. They contentedly drink milk, wrap themselves in their blankets, crawl onto my lap and ask; what are we doing today?

Our days have felt full. Every day I think about balance; the things that need to be done, to be crossed off the list, and the things that need to be done; the bookreading, the ring-around-the-rosie, the careful examinations and conversations about lilac buds emerging, about broken robin eggs found on the ground, or the passing of our old dog. Explaining the world to an (almost) four year old is no easy task. But I find myself questioning along with her, the whys and hows of it all. And remembering how lucky we are to have this day, and the one before it, after it. How quickly life changes. I think a lot about how to celebrate today.

We had 10 lovely years with Seeley. This was his last trip to the river; his favorite place.

The girls seem to be growing before my eyes. Aven wants to talk all the time, pointing and nodding madly to get her point across. It's been so easy for me to look at her as the baby, but that is starting to change. By the end of summer she will be two.

Then there is this girl, who told me the other day, Mom, I love you so much; you're in my heart and my heart is regarding you. Then she tipped herself out of her chair and fell to the ground with a crash. Popping back up she told me Falling off a chair is not as bad as falling in a cattle-guard. She has first-hand experience with both.

We went crazy the other day and decided to get some chicks. 26 chicks. We named them each after a letter in the alphabet. And I thought my children were growing quickly...

I am having so much fun gardening this year. Growing the hoop presents some new challenges, and new experiments. I put cucumber seeds in the ground last week and they were pushing their little heads up in a mere four days. On the other hand, I left the whole house closed up the other morning while we went into town and nearly cooked all my tomato and pepper starts with the heat. I just filled out my Farmers Market application and I am zeroing in on the perfect name for my 'farm!'

I still find it mindblowing that a handful of tiny seeds can grow more than enough veggies to feed my family for a year. Or several years, in the case of the great dill pickle surplus of 2009...

My farmers; the little tractor doubles as a jungle gym.

Loving the longer days as we tilt toward the sun. And the long evening shadows that go with it.

Here's to celebrating the everyday, which dandelions are perfect for. It's hard not of love a 'weed' that looks like a small golden sun.

spring recap; easter, hoop, recital

2011-05-20T18:55:00.005-06:00

This post is much overdue...and I'm not going to make excuses. Because it has finally started to warm up and green up around here, and I have one large hoop house, 68 tomato plants, 26 week-old chicks, two wild girls, mountains of laundry, ten fingernails blackened with soil and compost, and a wicked spring head-cold.

So I'm going to just charge ahead, and play a little catch up.

Easter:

The beginning of the egg hunt; ready, set...

Mountain bunny

Amelia's Easter dress was hand-made by me. She looks like a very small bridesmaid in it...a small bridesmaid who climbs through the tiny door in the chicken coop, and picks every dandelion in sight.

Next came the raising of the hoop:

Our pal, David, came to help, along with his trailer of tools. Hooray for David!

Serious business, this.

This trellis has beans and peas popping up all around it now!

I will post some more recent pictures soon....really...!

And Amelia's spring dance recital:

It does look like there's something interesting going on back there, can't really blame her...

And this dancing queen made it onto the front page of the paper...I have a feeling it won't be the last time.

thunder, sunshine, hail, spring

2011-04-21T11:42:00.006-06:00

I heard actual thunder today. It was all quiet and still, and then *Crash* Amelia and I actually jumped and Seeley ran for the bathroom rug - clearly, the only dog-safe place to ride out a thunderstorm. Then the iceball/hail deluge began...

Just another erratic spring day in Montana, I guess!

We're getting ready for Easter fun this weekend. We dyed eggs with things we had on hand; onion skins, beets, blueberries, coffee. Coffee is pretty unimpressive when you have brown eggs to start with, but the girls loved it. Aven only smashed and gnawed on about five of the eggs, so we still have quite an assortment for the bunny to hide.

We also celebrated Earth Day by beautifying our town a bit. The highlight for Amelia was rolling down hills and showing everyone the little rodent skull she found.

Amelia kept saying; "We're gonna clean up this town," like a cop in an old gangster movie.

I've been trying to write down some of the things Amelia says. She is so funny and often, so perceptive. And a little bit insane.

When I told her that Aven and I would be staying to help out with her preschool Easter party, she turned to her sister and said: "You won't have to miss me today, little old Aven!"

The other day we were driving into town, listening to the radio and Beethoven's 5th was on NPR. Amelia asked if it was Jack Johnson, and I said No, this is Beethoven, and I told her a little about him, how he lived a long time ago and wrote beautiful music even though he lost the ability to hear. She wanted to know if he was still alive and I told her wasn't.

Then she said,
"Mom, sometimes the owls eats mouses and the mouses are gone and they never come back, right?"
"Yes, that's right"
"Well, that's just like Beethoven."

I looked back at her in the rear-view mirror...three years old and already understands death as the great equalizer.

Then she picked up her purple bear (Alisha)
"I'm gonna curl Alisha's hair now."

Okay big girl.

small victories

2011-04-17T21:46:00.007-06:00

This weekend felt full.
In a good way.

I think being a mother has made my much better at rolling with it, when things do not go according to plan. As in; I had planned to clean the house and make dinner while the girls napped, but since they didn't nap, we'll just eat popcorn and wade through piles of puzzle pieces and stuffed animals. See how that works? My life is full of oh well, we'll do it this way, instead. You focus on the small victories of the day, and let the rest go.

Which, I think is a good thing. The ability to roll with it was necessary this weekend. Our original plan for Saturday was to begin construction on our new hoop house (insert me, jumping up and down, waving my arms in the air, shouting yahooooo!). Mike's brother brought it over Saturday morning from Hamilton, where we'd had it delivered. As we began sorting through (lots!) of parts and pieces, it became clear they had failed to send us any assembly instructions....and the company we ordered it from was (of course) closed for the weekend. Sigh. And so (after a beer or two) we rolled with it, and moved on down the to-do list.

Hoop house, interrupted.

While Mike and Matt moved irrigation pipe (thanks again, Matt - my arms, especially, thank you) I finished a baby gift for a good friend of mine whose little boy was born on Friday.

Welcome Gavin! I also had a chance to transplant tomato, pepper, and eggplant seedlings into bigger pots. However, (and here's where my fellow growers-of-things should pay attention) I mixed my potting soil with a bit of aged llama manure to give it a little nutrient boost, which would be fine if all these plants weren't living right next to my kitchen. So my mudroom now has a bit of an odor...hmmm yes. I will not be experimenting with llama poop in ANYTHING that will end up inside my house again. I promise.

Look at them grow, though. They don't mind the smell.

Two of our neighbor's horses have had foals in the last week. They won't get too close, but they are all legs and cuter than heck.

Amelia will be four in June. Lately I have been getting these glimpses of the girl, the woman she'll become.

Sometimes I can see that sassy 15-year-old in there, just waiting.

She checks the chicken coop about five times a day for eggs, and when she finds one you never know if it will make it into the house in one piece. I think she's getting more careful, though.

She tells me these eggs are presents from our chickens.

Saturday night we had dinner with an old friend of mine from high school. Until recently, we hadn't seen each other for about 10 years, and it is so wild to watch our kids play together. Spending time with an old friend is one those things that makes me feel really aware of the fluidity of time. It's like standing in the ocean, with waves pushing and pulling against your legs in all directions. It's that simultaneous sensation of having your feet strongly rooted in one place, while around you is contant swirling, changing motion. It still surprises me to realize that I am still me, the same person I was at 15, or at 25. I am still standing in the same place.

So it was great to see her and to watch our kids become friends. It makes me happy in so many ways.

Montana's spring weather makes me crazy every year. The sun comes out and we slather on sunscreen, then it begins to snow and we run for the house in our flip-flops. Yesterday I took the girls to the pool, and watched puffy white flakes drift by outside the windows, and tried to concentrate on the warm water and new bathing suits, instead of the snow piling up outside. My garlic is liking it though.

Aven talks nonstop and amazes me every day with her awareness and humor.

Fiesty little monkey + raisins = LOVE

Both girls loved having some time with Uncle Matt, and I enjoyed a break from being primary book-reader and 'What can you say when a monkey acts this way?'

So like most things, attitude is everything. The weekend came to close with me feeling like I'd made some progress. And there is always tomorrow.

bloom

2011-04-12T21:23:00.009-06:00

In the last few days, it has finally started to feel like spring; bare arms in the sunshine, grass between toes, flowers blooming...actually I didn't grow these...I have about a million rabbits that live all around my house and in our windbreak. These lovelies wouldn't survive for a minute out there. So thank you to my local grocery store, who had tulips bundles for $3.99 today. They won't last long, but I am going to enjoy the heck out of them for the next few days...while trying to keep Aven from eating them or knocking them off the kitchen table. Along with enjoying the warmer temps and longer days, I am REALLY enjoying the fact that it is now usually warm enough that Aven can eat in only a diaper which cuts way down on laundry. I can't remember now why I gave her a spoon and a stalk of celery...but I'm sure I had my reasons. We had a little jam session before leaving for town this morning. Amelia is dressed for preschool...she completed the look with sequined flip-flops...over the socks. Sister has style. A post-art-making manicure. So while I'm not able to grow tulips, my peppers and tomatoes are starting to stretch out in our mudroom-turned-greenhouse: I have yet to figure out why this makes me so ridiculously giddyhappy to see, but it does. It is absolutely magical that I can take something the size of pencil tip and from it grow crazy amounts of food. In other growing news, the girls and I picked these easter baskets up at the thrift store a week ago, lined them with tin foil and planted some of the leftover wheat seed from our germination test and viola...we are ready for that bunny! And none of that nasty flossy plastic grass...so yay! Our days are starting to tip towards more time spent outside than in, which is soo soo soo needed after this long winter. We're making progress on some projects, too. I started turning over ground for some new flowerbeds and found that the chickens are great gardeners. They pretty much chased me out of the way while they scratched for worms and bugs, and they did a fabulous job breaking up clumps of dirt and grass. Good chickens! They follow us all over the yard. I'm going to miss my free-range ladies once we build a run for them...but I won't miss all the chicken poop EVERYWHERE. And I'm checking out plans for a chicken tractor. I think it would be great out in our pasture when the weather is warmish. What...you don't know what a chicken tractor is? Google chicken tractor right now. They are sheer brilliance on wheels. Love them. Don't mess with Princess Layer! The other fabulous thing about the arrival of spring and lots of outdoor time...is that it is usually followed by naptime. Luckily, my kids usually just drop whenever and wherever they need to. Note that Aven has NOT dropped her bag of chips...poor girl doesn't get chips very often and she is not letting them go! ***** Insert huge sigh******* There, now you've read the genuine 'barefoot notes!'

home making

2011-04-06T07:34:00.012-06:00

It's been a year now, since we spent our first night in this old farm house. Since we walked the empty rooms, opened doors to empty closets, smiled at each other while sun poured through the windows. It was my 29th birthday. Even empty, this place felt like a home. A few nights ago we walked down the driveway before the sun set. The hills and fields fold into each other and spread in a way that now feels familiar. But the light here is always changing, always shifting our view into something new. The other morning I saw a bald eagle, a pheasant, and a great horned owl out our windows before I even left the house. The birds are coming back. Robins sing from the trees and bushes even as it becomes night, and the assortment of sparrows, finches, and doves continue to raid our bird feeder. I just read Terry Tempest Williams's book Refuge, which my dad left for me after his visit, and it has made me pay more attention to the birds around me. The last few mornings the girls and I sat by our big living room window watching the birdfeeder and looking up the birds we saw in the bird book. Mama, that's a cowbird, Amelia says very seriously with every new bird we see. Our Missoula trip was great. Missoula still feels like home to me in many ways, and I think I will always feel my breathing change to deep, contented breaths when I cross the Clark Fork River on the Higgins Street Bridge. There are not many places as fabulous as Missoula. It's so fun to be there with my girls. The Missoula Children's Museum, where all the cool kids go. A view of the Wilma, Higgins, and rain...all very Missoula We've also spent some time back in the Bitterroot lately. It's strange and a little sad to be back in our funky old house, seeing the trees we planted grow a little bigger in our absence. But it's nice to be able to go back, to still feel at home there. When we moved, we left our chickens behind since we didn't have a coop yet, and we had people to take care of them in the Bitterroot. They are a bunch of old lady chickens and I think they are pretty happy where they are. This is Mildred. She's the boss. Some garlic I missed last summer. Life continues, even when you're not there to watch it. There is something so incredibly raw and beautiful about rhubarb pushing its way out of the ground. Spring continues to creep a little closer. We had our first outdoor meal last week; so what if there's a little bit of snowdrift left... First spring laundry on the line... and evenings that stretch longer with bright, sideways sunlight. The woodpile is nearly gone...and our basement wood storage room is packed full for next year. Really, how many varieties of tomato are enough? The first tiny eggs from our chickens had to be saved and used for decoration... This was my reward for getting out of bed early the other morning; This is Mike, doing what he does in the springtime...but never before on his own land! The boy is excited! Morning coffee with sunrise and frost... Have I mentioned that the light here is incredible? Um...yes?

roadtrip

2011-04-01T07:58:00.005-06:00

Actually, all-girl roadtrip, complete with spring-break music mix, glamorous destinations, sippy cups... We're off to the big(ish) city for art shows, children's museaum, and carousel rides...wild times for sure!

should we talk about the weather*

2011-03-25T06:14:00.009-06:00

It is snowing outside. Big white flakes that seem to tumble haphazardly in every direction before touching the ground. And as much as I am craving sun, there is something exciting about this kind of snow. This may be one of the last snows of the season, one of the last days to justify a slow inside-day. A pot of water steams on top of the woodstove, we work our way through a new stack of library books, the snow scatters and sticks on patches of newly greening grass. It is still spring. Sun and mud and t-shirts are not that far away. Every part of me can feel it, even with this white sky and fresh snow.

She is such a clown - and ugh my kitchen walls are still a mess...ugh.

love love love this - the madness begins...

you wouldn't know you were on my blog if there weren't a picture of the girls reading...right?

gorgeous, volatile spring skies

tea party + sesame street on youtube...while I attempt;

homemade ricotta! - so good and easy-

barefoot baby toes

Mike took this picture after tucking the chickens in for the night. Amelia named one 'Princess Layer' which must be the best chicken name in the history of the world.

Sunny day, ice cream, playground...damn, I'm a good mom!

But for today, we're moving slowly, waiting for the sun
while the world outside quiets under white.

*obscure R.E.M. reference...my dad will get it :)

think green

2011-03-20T20:54:00.005-06:00

Last Thursday we decided to take the girls to one of the biggest St. Patrick's Day Celebrations in the country (or so I hear...) in lovely Butte, MT.

We lined up for the parade on the hillside in the old part of town and let the sun warm us while we waited.

Mike isn't Irish but he can fake it...the girls and I are purebread mutts, and there's some Irish in there somewhere. Either way, we rarely miss an excuse for a parade....and green beer before noon.

The First Dog of Montana even made an appearance.

Apparently the scottish have no qualms about faking Irish on St. Patrick's Day, either, and I am so glad. There's nothing like a band of men in kilts, I tell ya.

My little Irish-fairy-rockstar nearly made in into the Butte paper, but she got shy at the last minute. I'm sure she'll have other chances...

end of winter

2011-03-18T20:38:00.003-06:00

I just walked across my dark yard to close the door of our chicken coop. The moon is a day away from full. The air smells watery, warmer than it's been for months, that sweet smell of the world stirring back to life. I feel perched on the edge, ready to slip into a new season.

The last few weeks have been good. Steady and paced in such a good way. I've been trying to let go of some of my expectations for myself. I begin each day with this list in my head that sounds something like this; start herbs, fold laundry, swim laps... then quickily spirals into a totally unrealistic frenzy of all I would like to get done; sew curtains, finish stripping kitchen wallpaper, read this giant stack of library books to the girsl with funny voices for all characters, go for a run, write a poem, play ponies with Amelia, write a blog post, plan my garden, do some yoga, draw with Aven, make yogurt from scratch, make bread, organize an art walk for the town I live in, make laundry soap...SERIOUSLY, there are times this all runs through my head in about 30 seconds. And I've realized that while I draw a ton of inspiration and solidarity from the other mama-blogs I like to read, I can get a little too inspired...like the homemade laundry soap for example...

Sometimes I need to just stop and remember that the most important thing is to just sit on the floor and laugh my head off with Amelia over her 'Animal Actions' song from dance class, or to kiss Aven's sweet blond head over and over while she sits on my lap turning the pages of a book. There will be another morning and another list; another day full of potential. But until then there is a warm afternoon of befriending our new chickens, a dinner I made while dj-ing a kitchen dance party, and tucking my girls into their beds upstairs, Amelia wrapping her arms around my neck to tell me goodnight my sweet little mama.

It can be tough to balance; full, but not too full. I feel so grateful for this time with them, for all the choices we have when we ask the question; what will we do today?
This time of year we run every direction with the possibility...

greening...oh yes...!

King Henry, our new rooster with some of his ladies.

Real Montana girls strip down once the thermometer hits 30 degrees.

Blue skies...and our beautiful russian olive tree.

Morning sun and shadows.

Our fields are plowed and ready to grow wheat. Is it normal to get this excited over thawing ground?

My dad came to visit for a weekend and we took him up on the Hogback to soak up some sun and get a sense of the vastness of this place.

Super grampa can hold Aven's hand while she navigates around cactus, carry her rock collection and still balance a glass of IPA...

Aven attempts her first puddle-stomp.

New neon green life...a wheat seed germination test that lives on top of my dryer.

Aven sporting a hair clip...a very tiny hair clip is a VERY big deal around here.

With these warming days, our house is suddenly vacated. The sun pours through the windows and we run for mud boots and fleeces, leaving things looking like this;

A few days ago I saw my first robin of the season. Now our yard and trees are full of their round red bellies. I am so ready! Welcome Spring!

monday, 6pm

2011-02-28T17:52:00.006-07:00

I'm making chicken fajitas for dinner when I notice Amelia is throwing herself against the door in our living room, desperately rattling the knob, swinging herself back and forth against the frame, trying to get outside.

Bird, what are you doing?

I'm trying to get outside! I need to say hello to the sky!

So I let her out, or course. It is getting dark and it's 29 degrees. She has bare feet, of course.

She stands on the porch yelling at the sky.

Hello sky, good morning, good night!

Hello geese, fly away to South America!

Goodbye sky, goodbye leaves.

Aven, never one to be left out, stands beside her yelling Dadoo, Dadoo, Dadoo!

* * *

In just over a month, I will turn 30. I keep thinking of the Talking Heads song; "You may ask yourself, well, how did I get here?"

There are times this question is more easily answered than others.

Standing on the porch with my daughters,

saying hello to the sky,

is one of the easier times.

winter picnic

2011-02-27T20:22:00.004-07:00

A few weekends ago, Mike and I had a case of what I like to call 'simultaneous-cabin-fever-February-freak-out.' I'm sure you've heard of it...The sun was shining after days of coldgray and we had a conversation that went something like this:

"Hey, what do you think about flying to Florida, tomorrow."
"That sounds great! Let's go!"

We didn't look at our calenders, we just sat in front of the computer and surfed destinations and airfares until we woke from our stupor and realized there was no way in hell we could get on a plane and head for the beach...tommorrow...with absolutely no planning.

So plan B was to get out of the house and absorb a little sunshine.

And cook moose-burgers over a fire, because that's what we do.

It was just warm enough to shed coats and hats. I lay down against the warm ground and imagined I could hear waves. The sunlight was dazzling, the sky was achingly blue.

Amelia is a bit of a peak bagger. 'Can we climb to the top of that, mom?" I hear every morning as we drive into town and she looks out her window longingly at the Pioneer Mountains. She and Mike took off to climb to the top of a hill, and ended up walking along the ridge.

A long way for three-year-old legs, I think.

my life in board books

2011-02-24T15:50:00.004-07:00

I'm recovering from one of those moments...

One of those moments when something ugly rises up in me and I can't cope. I yell at my kids, I question my entire life, I decide there is no way I am going to finish cooking dinner, and instead I'm going to strap my kids into their carseats and drive like hell...probably south since it is about .3 degrees here right now....south seems like a good idea...

Do you know what pushed me over the edge...? Amelia tripped Aven with her blanket after I'd asked her a million times to pick it up off the floor, and Aven opened the cupboard and took the bag of raisins out for the 10,000th time this afternoon....so I lost it over a blanket and raisins. Ugh.

There was a minor blizzard here this afternoon. The thing was hyped for days on the news and really didn't deliver the kind of 'storm of the century' that had been promised. Not that I'm complaining. We spent the morning in town, Amelia went to a few hours of preschool, Aven and I went the YMCA and the grocery store (you know, to stock up for the storm of the century!) then we were home all afternoon with woodstoves blazing, watched the sparrows empty a nearly full birdfeeder, and read piles of books.

Somewhere between Hippos Go Berserk and Goodnight Moon I realized I'd begun putting an awful lot of existential thought into that bowl of mush...When I stretched my brain during a semseter of Advanced Literary Theory and Critique, I'm pretty sure Busy Busy Chickens was not on the syllabus...and yet, there is something wise in these first books I read my children. Small lessons, small wordplay, new expressions and questions asked.

The girls are now tucked into their beds upstairs, asleep after a very loud volley of 'love you' up and down the stairs. A stranger would never guess that was what Aven was saying, but I have no doubt. It was.

I'm following a glass of wine with a cup of sleepytime tea brewed and brought to me by my honey; and I'm feeling a little more balanced. It is below zero now. I think I might bundled up and take a quiet walk down the driveway.

Goodnight stars, goodnight air....goodnight noises everywhere.

coop

2011-02-15T20:21:00.003-07:00

No, it's not an additon to our house...it is a gigantic chicken coop! Guess I better get some chicks! It's made of all (mostly) reclaimed/recycled materials and it is quite luxurious...if you happen to be a chicken. I'm thinking of painting some of the trim in a bright color...any suggestions?

Amelia practiced being fabulous while the coop was unloaded.

It was something to watch...I was thankful that I was a mere observer...

The coop has two separate living quarters so starting new chicks will be easier, or I'm thinking about pioneer-woman-ing up and getting some meat birds.

Stay tuned for more exciting farm developments!
(oh yes, there will be more!)

portraits: the waiting month

2011-02-13T20:25:00.005-07:00

February and I have some issues. I don't believe it is innately a bad month...really it is a victim of it's placement among the other months, its particular gray-icy tedium that makes it the most challenging time of the year for me. February, it's not you...it's me. For me, you are the waiting month, when all I want to do is get on with it already...

We've been finding new ways to pass the time;

bathtub fingerpainting, birthday cake baking when it is no one's birthday,

peeling all the felt 'fur' off of a toy horse only to find a perfect hole in his forehead...just waiting for a toothpick to transform him into a lovely (and slightly dangerous) unicorn. Actually, there's only one of us doing that...

After gray days I feel like I have to follow the sunlight around, celebrate each little sliver.

When it's too cold to be outside, we wish for warmer days.

Aven will not stay off of the table. That's all there is to it.

Some days I dress them alike and pull them around by one leg...uh huh...

Some days I lose all originality and let them watch a cartoon in bed.

Then there are days when spring is so very close...

So to recap...we're waiting...

and perhaps getting a little impatient...

afternoon; out of the house

2011-01-31T21:29:00.005-07:00

When it is January and cold and gray and blah...it's hard to talk the girls (and myself) into getting outside. But the other day we had skies like this....so it didn't take much pursuasion...

Amid the evidence of warmer seasons,

are signs that the world is waiting, (probably more patiently than I am), for spring to show up.

Meanwhile, Aven practices downward dog in the snow and Amelia calls watch me, watch me as she 'ice-dances.'

This girl is 17 months old today. She still likes to be carried around a lot, and I am willing. I know we're getting closer and closer to the time when I won't be able to haul her around on my hip all day. She says mama, dada, book, milk, ouch, uh-oh, mitten, please, moo, neigh, up, foot, baby, hat, yep, no, gentle, and ding-dong.

our new pens...now we just have to decide what to put in them...my vote is lambs...or lamb, depending on how crazy I get with my garden.

Beside feeling a little more sane by the time we trudge back to the house, there is the benefit of some quiet floor playtime afterward...

and naps... :)

untitled

2011-01-24T08:12:00.007-07:00

I had a lot of positive things in mind while I was uploading these pictures last night...but 24 hours later, I've had a bit of a day, and I'm finding it a little hard to rally. My wonderful old dog who I've known almost ten years got some bad news at the vet today...nothing is definite, but it's made me really look at the fact that this friend won't be around forever. So it has been a rough day... from the moment in the produce section of the grocery store this morning when the vet called...to when I lay on the floor of my kitchen after dinner and seriously considered just letting the girls run wild until they dropped over from exhaustion...(the process of getting them ready and into bed just seemed like more than I could handle). Sigh...It's been a day.

The poor boy is home again with a ridiculous cone around his neck and a complex medication schedule. But he's here - and really all we have is today, right now, anyway. And right now, he's curled up on his freshly washed bed listening to the sounds of his family. So here we are.

I think we may be wearing out our library card...January is the time for every-other-day trips to the library...we have been reading...and reading...

and reading...

and ummmmmmm yes, reading!

Also a little cooking; Amelia likes to help...

I made these really really good Aussie Bites from Sarah's recipe at Bee House Hives - try them they are healthy and yum - and quite portable to boot.

Cabin fever kicked into high gear when I started to attack the walls of my kitchen. Mike is really good at stripping wallpaper. Great even. It's one of his little-known talents...
The crazy thing is, I had a color in mind to paint the walls...and it turns out it is not far off from the original color of the walls (beneath 5+ layers of wallpaper and paint).

hmmmmmmm...progress?

The girls are in a constant cycle of fighting, crying, making up, playing like the best of friends, fighting...and repeat...1,000 times a day...

This is their pirate ship...they are on the high seas...the wooden spoons are (clearly) oars.

Happy One-More-Week-Of-January to all of you out there!

weekend - bundle up

2011-01-09T20:52:00.007-07:00

We had a few days of thaw last week; just enough of a shift to make it impossible to keep from looking ahead...from beginning to consider spring as a (far off) possibility. Mike and I surfed hoop-house and greenhouse websites, made lists of what we want to prioritize over the next year, or two. The mountains of snow shrunk back softly into themselves, leaving spots of naked, gray pre-spring twist of dried grass and mud. Walking around our yard, I could feel the weak heat of sun through my coat.

Then it got really cold again.

But now we've had a taste of prolonged outside-time, and we are not going to wimp out! Just add more layers and keep moving.

We have these amazing snow drifts all around the outside of our windbreak. The wind carves mountains, ledges, and slick snow-slides; which are best taken advantage of without a princess dress hanging out over your snowpants (too much traction...?) Or you can always ride down on your sister...

On Sunday we drove up to the spring for water. It was cold; 10 degrees and just a little wind. The ice crystals all around the spring were so beautiful, but none of my close-ups turned out well.

I did get this lovely close-up, though:

It was perfect snowflake weather.

Seeley blends in well this time of year.

We braved the cold for a few runs with the sled.

It's not supposed to warm up again anytime soon. But we got a taste. And some nice rides.

post holiday (indoor) landscapes

2011-01-05T10:33:00.008-07:00

After the making and planning,

after dancing for the solstice,

the giving and getting,

(note the mama-made pj bottoms, following my family's tradition of new pjs on Christmas Eve)

we are at that point where you look around, take a deep breath, and change direction.

Now we settle in for the rest of winter. This time of year feels like a blank slate. I'm making lists and fantasizing about 'inside' projects, things that will never happen if they don't happen in the next few months...I'm thinking quilt for our bed, and sesame colored walls for my kitchen, possibly a container of winter greens growing happily in my sunny mudroom...but there is also something so wonderful about the way the world slows this time of year. I walked down our driveway this morning to find we were completely drifted in. No way were we going anywhere until that puppy was plowed. Huh...I thought...guess we'll stay here today...and we went back in the house and Amelia and I read books and Aven and I stacked things. I love that my day's to-do list could be scrapped and we could just enjoy not having a list.

You see, I'm trying to be optimistic. I've never liked the January/February lull...but (as with so many things, lately) I feel like as I've gotten older, I'm able to roll with it and to see the beauty and the wonderful heart-stretching goodness in all these ordinary moments of my life...even in the long weeks of winter ahead.

Landscapes:

mud room window...very very cold out there

my desk, after the holiday rush of making, making, making

this herd of tiny horses now lives under my kitchen table

a little morning art session,

followed by drying session above the tub.

one idea for upcycling wrapping paper; paper mache bowl - can also be worn as a helmet, depending...

Aven has learned where I keep the peanut butter, and she visits it regularly.

christmas eve

2010-12-31T08:55:00.003-07:00

the best party of my holiday was driving up the canyon in the afternoon, building a fire on the snow and watching the light change as it became evening.

there is something about having less of something that makes it more beautiful...I think this is true of sunlight in the winter.

the chef, and his Christmas Eve menu...on the way back home, he jumped out of the truck, grabbed my old metal-runnered sled and flew down the road for about half a mile- I could barely keep up with him in the truck.

aven e. - 15 months old

2010-12-17T20:32:00.003-07:00

A lot of these picture are blurry and out of focus...but they capture so much of her. I really couldn't narrow it down any further...

love love love love love this girl

five minute poem/s

2010-12-13T07:52:00.004-07:00

#5
The trees are bare again, after days
of warmer skies, tracks soften and
refreeze into rigid records of our

days spent slow-stepping along narrow
trails through the windbreak. Sign of
rabbit, pheasant, a scattered bouquet

of feathers from some small bird.
We gather. A pinecone, a fan
of juniper needles, bird nest

blown down from its crook;
the delicate dried mud
cracks open leaving no trace

of the place that
once held those brittle
bodies before they learned flight.

#7
Like some trick, the sharpness
of white sunlight on our sheets
as they move just a little

on the line, brings me
suddenly back
to my mother’s phone call
from the island this morning –
of her voice telling me the reefs

are suddenly dying; bleached pale
as bone. The sheets lap
like lazy currents, and I think

of your body suspended above
that water, of the lengths
of unbreathable
blue between us.

Aven fell asleep on the way back from the mailbox the other day...and I remembered her fallling asleep in the sled last year when she was still such a tiny baby, bundled like crazy, lying on her back as I pulled her over the snow...

#6
As much as the ragged silhouette
of the tobacco root mountains, or
the bleached fields with their easy sway

of wheat stubble, the wind is an element
of our view. Breath stealing pull
and twist of air, the land itself;

from lichen covered stone-face,
to the sudden, unexpected fold
of sheltered draw, sighs

around your bare face, pinks
your hands, makes you grateful to catch
a lungful
of such wide wild air.

* * *

We're preparing for Christmas, which I am actually ridiculously excited for...

As you can see, we're practicing peace...

except when it come to your little sister who want to play with your toy...

dress rehersal

2010-12-12T14:57:00.003-07:00

five minute poem/s

2010-12-09T06:59:00.007-07:00

I'm starting a new project here on the ole blog.

Once upon a time in my life I wrote poetry...quite a bit of it...even an entire thesis-sized quantity of it. And lately (oh, the last six years) I have not written much at all. Poetry can be an easy thing to put on your back burner when there are other urgent needs in front of you (Mama, I am extremely starving right NOW!)

So I've been giving some thought to simplifying, reprioritizing, all those lovely shake-it-up words, and I've given myself a poetry challenge. And nothing makes a challenge harder to give up on than sharing it with other people, right?

My challenge is the five minute poem. My usual answer to have you been writing lately is that I just don't have time. But I can usually find five minutes. So the deal is that I time myself for 5 minutes only, writing like mad...or not...depending on how it all comes. And I have to make time for this EVERY DAY...for a year...that's the plan...

And I plan to share them here...for your reading enjoyment :)

And I will throw some photographs in, too, because I can't stop taking them.

As of today, I am four days in.

So here are the first four...more to come...

Five Minute poem #4
12.8.10

Hours after you’ve gone to sleep,
I still feel the delicate bones

beneath your shirt. Your exact
weight and length across

my arm as you give in
to sleep are things I know

from watching birds in flight, or
considering a whistle made

of the lightest bone, a sweet
sound comes from the middle.

This morning, a friend held her new daughter
for the first time. I cannot tell

what I feel for her, for every
woman who learns that weight,

that heartbreaking lightness
of a child. Goodnight,
little sparrow.

Five Minute Poem #3
12.7.10

This morning as I left for town,
wheels pushing through heavy
new snow; the sky opened,

licked clean its icy blue, opened
wide for a low and serious sun.
And who am I to rush

those eight miles, rush the morning
as the sun crisps golden the edge
of every cold and shimmering thing for miles.

I do not know what to make of myself
in the face of such a morning.

I do know that I stopped the car
and breathed it in, and felt, a bit
at home here on this planet.

Five Minute Poem #2
12.6.10

The dance studio floor is
wet with footprints, snow
dampened boots tipped over

and left beneath the chairs for waiting parents;
a row of girls reach for each
other’s hands, watching the opposite

of each move in the mirrors.
I’ve been walking
the slick downtown streets

in fresh snow; thick white sky
shouldered low on the mountains,
sidewalks, roads all the same-

then the sudden warmth of wood floors,
the echoed tinny music, and my blond
girl, hurrying to me, saying mama, mama

Five Minute Poem #1
12.5.10

Coming home after dark, after
dinner, the air shimmers with our headlights,
a perfect 8 degrees. On either side

of the empty dirt road, drifts as graceful
as any other movement, as any ocean wave
making its languid way toward shore,

and we sip the last of the vodka
made weak with melted ice
from a wide mouthed mason jar

and drive quietly, our bodies
shifting even before we come
to the wide dips and sways

of the frozen road. It is too dark,
to see, but we know
the hills rise and fall

a little at a time
in all directions
around us.

portraits of fall

2010-11-19T08:09:00.003-07:00

outside:

inside:

back again

2010-11-12T08:29:00.003-07:00

It feels like a long time since I've posted anything. And to be honest, I've given a lot of thought to taking a break from the blog. I'm still undecided- not sure why, but I've been unable to rally much enthusiasm for taking the time to create a post...so I'm still on the fence. It seems like whenever I try to focus on getting a post together, the girls start torturing each other, or giving each other showers with the dog water, or decide that they are starving RIGHT THIS MINUTE...and I think...what am I doing...?

Do I really have time for this- in the chaos of our lives...is this really worth taking the time for? I'm sure I'm not the only one who thinks about this from time to time...the inherent value of our blogs, our lives recorded and shared...

I would love to hear anyone's thoughts, viewpoints on why we do this...why we continue to.

So....

A quick recap of our trip to Florida:

I LOVE the ocean...and the beach. Someday I will live by the ocean, I think. Standing beside so much water, so much life moving, churning, pulled by the moon- it is such a deep soul-recharge for me. I can take a deep breath, and really mean it.

My mom loves the ocean like no one else I know. I can't wait until my kids are old enough to go diving with their water-worshipping grandma.

making friends with hermit crabs

Aven and her 94-year-old great grandfather, who has some of the best stories I've ever heard.

Doesn't she looked thrilled to be at the 'Happiest Place on Earth?'

On our way back home, we spent 9.5 hours in the Salt Lake City Airport, courtesy of Delta. It was a bit hellish, but has made me feel like if I can handle that, I can travel anywhere with these kids. Horribly misberable old lady in the seat in front of us during a 5+ hour flight?...we've got that covered...insanely long layover?...bring it on!

bound for the beach

2010-10-21T19:07:00.003-06:00

no, we're not there yet...Amelia is just practicing...

I leave for Florida with the girls tomorrow to visit my grandfather -

I'm looking forward to all but the flight - wish us luck!

something i love

2010-10-17T20:57:00.006-06:00

is that in the fall, if you look out of the corner of your eye - it can look a lot like spring...
that same sparce, pale yellowgreen of leaves just at the tips of branches.

For me it reinforces that 'beginning-is-the-end-is-the-beginning' kind of feeling
that seasonal shifts stir up. A peace
that can be found in repetition, in the certainty of a new season,
and in the knowledge that the only thing you can be sure of

is change.
There's a lot of comfort in that, I think.

So, with faith in this revolution of cycles,
I am planting.

Or prepping, anyway...a bed for garlic.
We've covered most of the garden-to-be with weed-mat
to supress the weeds and grass beneath it.
But we left this little square
to prep and plant this fall.

Another sign of fall...the return of cattle:

Many of the large ranches around here own land in the Big Hole Valley too, and their cattle spend summers grazing at those higher altitudes, while in our neighborhood much of the land is farmed or hayed. With cooler weather and the end of the growing season, cattle are trucked back here to winter in the comparitavely warmer fields of the Beaverhead Valley.

The fields we've walked past and driven by all summer; always in some stage of the growing, cutting, drying, baling process...are suddenly full of wide-eyed cattle.

dough & dress

2010-10-15T16:11:00.008-06:00

Last week, the temperature actually began to remind me that it is fall.

We've had such a beautiful season so far- days that feel more like summer than June did -
flip-flops & tank-top type weather...which we've been drinking in because if anything is certain, it is that tomorrow it may all change.

So it's still gorgeous, only a little cooler in the mornings, when we start up the kitchen wood stove and take our time getting dressed and out into the day. Lots of coffee, NPR, and...dough...

very serious business, this purple playdough

Purple dough, pink with silver sparkles, tortilla dough, bread dough, some zucchini muffins...there is a perpetual crusty/gooey bowl and wooden spoon soaking in my sink. We are loving the recipe for Epic Play Dough from Dig This Chick - if you've never tried it - DO IT!

And my old garden in the Bitterroot, which we planted before moving, because we're crazy like that...is raining down late season goodness on us; carrots, beets, potatoes, winter squash...

these lovelies (veggies, not my toes) almost make up for the fact that I was near tomato-less this year...(big sigh)

In other domestic news, I sewed an entire article of clothing...from a pattern...that I pretty much followed! First time! My grandmother, Eileen, taught my sister and I how to sew when we'd visit our grandparents in the blazing hot desert in the middle of summer. She would take us to her very cool, air-conditioned guest house/sewing studio for the day and we'd sew dolls and t-shirts, and more dolls. She was also a gardener. I think about her when I sew or garden - although she is gone now, I feel such a connection to her through these small shared things.

My other grandmother, Betty, taught me many things, but I don't remember ever sewing with her. Somehow, though, I ended up with her sewing cupboard full of thread, pins, and tons of buttons. The buttons are great to sift through because my grandmother had fabulous clothes, and you can see it all reflected in these jars of buttons.

So, with the sewing knowledge from one grandmother, and the thread and buttons from another, I made Aven a dress.

Her favorite thing to do is fill this bucket with horse treats then wander out to Jack's pen, pointing and saying 'Jack!' 'Jack!' the whole way.

She is also mastering the dress-up trunk and the stairs to her bedroom...

And just like that, Shorty McShoo is outa here...!

flight

2010-10-11T20:54:00.004-06:00

I saw my brother a few days ago. He's moving to Hawaii in December. He had spent a few days at our mom's house on the lake, a place that holds a lot of history for our family.

He told me I just kept thinking how, it could be years before I see the lake again.

I agreed, that it must feel strange to know you're leaving, but to not have left yet...and to leave Montana, the place he's lived all his life, the mountains he is named after. This is no small thing, I think.

Well, you've never left, either he said...and it's true.

If I could sit down with myself, my ten-years-ago-self...19, and certain the adventures were just beginning, I would not have believed that in only ten years I would have two daughters...that I would be a mom, that I would still be living in Montana.

But there is absolutely nowhere else I'd rather be.

Especially on a warm day in October...

"Oh, I'll never leave Montana, brother." - Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through It

going on a moose hunt

2010-10-07T08:28:00.006-06:00

Last weekend, our little family packed up an unbelievable amount of gear and piled in the big black truck; in search of a relaxing weekend away, spectacular night skies, and (hopefully) a moose to fill Mike's once-in-a-lifetime moose tag and our brand new, empty freezer.

We rented a cabin on the ranch that Mike had permission to hunt. It is an old hand-hewn log cabin; very remote, completely off the grid, no running water (unless you count the spring), and no power unless you crank the generator, which we did each evening...so perhaps not quite as rugged as I made it sound at first, but it definitely gave me a new-found respect for pioneer mamas, or any mamas who go through their day without water or power.

It was so quiet. Quiet in a way we don't often experience.
No phone, cars passing by, not even the hum of a refrigerator.
We heard cows calling to their calves, coyotes each morning
before the sun rose, wind.

The sound of the world, without us making all our noise.

You feel a little closer to the elemental out there.
To the basics of your life. Cold mornings and woodsmoke,
that give way to brilliant, eye-throbbing blue skies.

You begin your day with the arrival of light pouring down the hills
and through your windows, pooling around the kitchen table
where you gather over coffee, oranges, and crayons.

You fill your day with simple, good things.

Amelia taught Aven how to watercolor without eating too much paint...non-toxic, right?

And how to build a log cabin...

Lots of sipping from the spring just beyond the front door...

Self-portrait with sleeping baby in backpack

Then there was the hunt.

The scouting, planning,
the straining your eyes for a black form among the willows.

The needle-in-a-haystack search. Mike leaving before it is light on the horse. In this kind of vast wildness, there is a new appreciation for the days spent doing nothing but searching, looking, waiting.

And sometimes you get lucky.

I will say that this was a new experience for me. Mike has brought home elk, deer and antelope, but it has always been brought home. I have such a new appreciation for the entire process, from the hunt to the packing out...in near 90 degree weather...with two small children in tow. Amelia was fascinated. I will admit that I was a little aprehensive about how she would react. But we had good talks about where our food comes from, that the moose lived a good life, that we will think about him, and appreciate him for many many meals to come. She wanted to know if I could put the entire moose in the oven.

We said thank you, moose,
thank you, moose
and we packed our mountain of stuff,
and our moose,
and headed home.

tree huggers

2010-10-03T20:56:00.002-06:00

a little cinnamon and a little soil

2010-09-24T14:10:00.004-06:00

One of those mornings,
where the list of errands to run before naptime
grows and grows
before we even leave the house…

The bathroom is swamped
after my shower; little hands keep pulling back the curtain
to toss bath toys into the tub for me. Two plastic fish
and a pink balloon float past my ankles…

I’m loading the car,
grocery bags, jugs for water,
diaper bag, lists…
when Amelia pushes a chair
up to the kitchen sink and begins to play
in the soap bubbles of our soaking
oatmeal pot…

Walking past, I hear her talking through
her recipe for a ‘soap-pie;’
a little cinnamon, and a little soil,
put it all together…

I love that combination.
I had to stop and play a little
in the sink, too.

At the end of the day,
what is it
that you remember stopping for,

making the time for.

lately

2010-09-20T17:45:00.003-06:00

I love having an early morning to myself. It doesn't happen very often...Aven is still averaging 3x a night wake-and-nurse sessions, and Mike and my father-in-law, Marty, have been leaving the house early most mornings to haul grain. It is harvest time and hunting time in our part of the world, and that leads to early activity in our house just about every day of the week.

This morning I woke at 5:30, rocked Aven and put her back to bed, then tiptoed downstairs to a quiet, dark house. The sky was clear and starry and cold, so after standing on the porch breathing and waking up a bit, it was back inside to make a fire in our kitchen woodstove and some strong coffee.

ahh, a quiet house...

We've had a beautiufl end-of-summer. Days that still feel long, afternoon sun that still heats you through.

There is still time for new explorations; which can be as simple as pulling over on the side of the road while crossing the big hole valley. Because sometimes you just have to get out of car and stretch a little...or ride your motorcycle a bit...

biker babe

We've had good visits with some Bitterroot buddies,

and tried out new looks in our old tub.

Amelia started dance classes last week- which she loves.

And we've spent lots of time just enjoying our place on these last warm days.

daddy's closet = best hideout ever

We did a little painting to memorialize our first summer here.

Amelia proudly represents the family biz

Hope you're enjoying these last days of summer.

to the river

2010-09-16T21:21:00.003-06:00

There are times when the only reasonable thing to do is strap my children into their carseats and drive away from our house. Away from dishes and laundry and dinner-that-should-be-made...usually we head for water...

The other evening was one such evening...

Mike was planning to hunt until dark, the afternoon was hot, the girls and I were feeling restless...

My daughters are becoming (to my absolute joy) complete river-rats...

It is a week until the first official day of fall, which in Montana, means very cold water...

but apparently no one told them that summer was (nearly) over,

although there were signs everywhere.

Oh, and Amelia looked up at this beautiful ancient tree and said Mama, look at this cottonwood, and is it wrong that I am more proud of that, than when she tells me the sounds each letter makes, or counts to eleventy-six?

We spent a few hours by the river, then drove the road back home slowly...singing along to all the CDs that have been in my car all summer,

savoring the air that still smelled like summer, windows rolled down, mountains rising purple in the distance, everywhere we looked.

gratitude

2010-09-08T08:56:00.005-06:00

Lately, it has felt easy to forget the world. My average day's to-do list is full of actions that nurture my family and myself. I take the girls for walks, I make meals, I comfort and carry.

We don't have a television, so I usually stay in touch with the rest of the world by listening to the news on the radio. Often I feel I need to listen to the news with a hard heart...otherwise I cannot bear to listen at all. I haven't been very good at that whole 'hard-heart' thing lately. Maybe it's because my life feels so peaceful, so contented right now, but lately it seems that whenever I tune into the 'news' I am left somewhat devestated.

From the unimaginable violence in the eastern Congo, to the unimaginable ignorance of book burners here in our own country, to stories that are simply tragic; parents mourning lost children, veterans mourning the loss of their pre-war selves. I feel almost guilty for these steady sweet days I've been living.

It can be easy to forget that all these things happen in my world. It is the world I have planted my children into, so full of incredible beauty, joy, violence, and misunderstanding all together.

Where am I going with this? I'm not sure. Except that the other morning as I drove and listened to these stories, I was overwhelmed by such gratitude. Despite the loss, the divisions, the horrible ways people hurt each other...I am blessed with such a beautiful life.

I know I'm getting closer to the person I want to be. Because I carry this enormous gratitude with me every day, everywhere I go.

Gratitude for the mountains painted with morning sun, the foothills tumbling to the valley floor, creased and golden like rumpled bedsheets.

For the silver spray of sparrows that fly like light over my head, their collective sound like water moving over stones.

For the knowledge that everything we really need is within our reach, our means;
clean water from the spring up the road, food we grow and harvest, from our garden or the wild.

I think of mothers all over the world, and I am overwhelmed by my luck -
that when I put my children to bed at night, I have the luxury of knowing they will be safe until morning. I'm not putting them to bed in a tent in a refuge camp, or telling them that I'm sorry, but there's just nothing left to eat or drink.

There are so many mothers just like me that do not have that daily certainty, such a basic thing,
to want to protect and keep your children safe, healthy.

So I guess this gratitude is laced with empathy and a mindfullness of how delicate our world is. How delicate our lives are, our relationships with each other. How we must take the time to stop and breathe, and be greatful for those moments and connections that sustain us.

at the fair

2010-09-07T11:33:00.005-06:00

Once a year, at the end of summer;

you can be kissed by a sheep,

witness unimaginable cuteness,

this looks like a stuffed animal, don't you think?

lounge with a prize pig,

cuddle with exotic creatures,

wander past lazy giants,

Aven went to the Ravalli County Fair last year on Friday. She had been born Monday. I'm not sure why I decided that was a good idea...but she was much more impressed this time around.

sympathize with a sweet donkey,

buy then use up all your tickets,

scream your head off next to a complete stranger,

find foods in all imaginable possible forms,

watch the sun go down,

and the lights come on.

Until next year...

one

2010-09-06T13:44:00.004-06:00

For Aven's birthday, we planted a willow in the front yard.

Clearly, we need more trees...

Grampa was on hand to help with the planting...

Princess dresses were worn, because really, what better reason is there for princess dresses...?

Then there was cake...

helping mix frosting,

and digging in...

And the prequel...angel food cake made by grandma with a view of the lake...

Sweet Birthday!

a little closer

2010-09-05T14:18:00.006-06:00

I've been taking my last few deep breaths of summer,

feeling fall approaching, every day a little closer.

We continue to expore our new valley; from running broad dirt roads, to picking our way along a barely-there antelope trail...

Me to Amelia: "I think there could be snakes living here, so let me know if you see a snake, okay?"
Amelia to Me: "Okay. Mama, let me know if you see a mouse, or a jaguar, or a polar bear, okay?"
Me to Amelia: "Okay."

I scavenged a giant cottonwood log from the barrel pit along the road and viola...a little bench for three - Mike did the actual construction, so I can't take all the credit...very fancy all around, I know...

Aven takes some of her first steps along the swather path in our back field.

Our garden this year is strange. Since we moved in June there was nowhere to plant the tomatoes and peppers I had started from seed in our kitchen window. Until we learned about straw bale gardening...which honestly doesn't seem like it should work...how dow you grow stuff without dirt? But I've actually been pretty impressed with it.... We top-dressed the bales with llama manure and this organic chicken manure fertilizer that Mike sells in his store, and the plants themselves look really healthy. Now if only I could do something about the number of growing days...Michelle Obama and I see a very large hoop house in my future...more on that (hopefully) to come!

they're supposed to be this color...

We've had a handful of red tomatoes this year (all from my 'Silvery Fir Tree' tomato plants - which produced red tomatoes last year before the middle of July - go find yourself some!) but nothing like years past. Looks like we'll be living off the remainder of last year's massive canning operation.

Next post I promise birthday pictures of this short person:

for me this is true

2010-08-25T17:53:00.003-06:00

I never test it out to see how cold.
I don't wait for the clouds to move, the sun to peek out
or the wind to change direction.

I take a deep breath and dive in.

I swim as far as I can never coming up for air until my lungs need filling.

When I do come up for air I feel restored.
Leaving the days worries to sift down
and settle within the tiny pebbles below
I make the swim back to shore. I am smiling.

For me this is true.
In the woods, we return to reason and faith.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

poem and concept blatently stolen from Sarah at Bee House Hives - I thank you for sharing this poem!

once around the sun

2010-08-23T07:40:00.005-06:00

Aven will be a year old in just a few days.

There is so much to celebrate.

She walks with purpose on her short legs, points and names everything she sees (usually 'this' or 'that'), laughs so hard with her sister, is still surprised by peek-a-boo. She moves through the world with such determination, curiosity, and grace.

This morning I heard her chirping and singing from her crib. I climbed the stairs to her room and looked around the corner to find her standing, holding the railing, smiling that surprised and contented smile, her pale hair sticking out in every direction as the sun poured in all around her.

Sweet Aven-pie. We are so grateful for this year. We are so lucky to have you in our family, to watch you discover the world, and remind us how lovely it all is.

on the road

2010-08-22T20:18:00.007-06:00

So, not be be all braggy, but the other week I drove appx. 950 miles... with my children...over four days... and we all survived!!!!

We ended up completing a very scenic loop from home to Missoula, to the Bitterroot, to home, to Missoula, to the Seeley-Swan Valley, to Butte, to home...whew.

burning off some pent-up energy at Grandma's,

No more car, mama!

pizza with a view of the Clark Fork River in Missoula,

tipis and gray skies along the Blackfoot River,

The upside of so much driving driving driving was that we had some much-needed time to hang out with Grampa Scott:

Followed by a fabulous time with Aunt Robin and John...which coincided with lots of teething pain and a flooded basement...in case you didn't know- Aunt Robin and John are major troopers!!

low tech teething relief...

We came home to a box full of new blocks,

cooler days and tea parties,

and princess dress-up on the porch...

ladies of the canyon

2010-08-14T21:16:00.008-06:00

There are a few parts of the year where it seems I can actually feel the passage of time. The middle of August always has a strange, suspended feel to it...the days no longer have the intense heat of summer, or the intense, energetic rush of festivals, camping, roadtrips; that manic but wonderul urgency of getting it all in because every one of our senses keeps reminding us that summer is fleeting! By the middle a August, I'm over all of that.

That sweet rush of summer comes to a halting stop and we take a deep breath. We slow down. We spend time in the giant, silver wonderfulness of our russian olive tree,

enjoy slow, sun-drenched mornings reading library book after library book with dad before he leaves for work,

We get better aqainted with Jack-the-horse, who, although a long-time family member, is new to being a backyard attraction,

Though of course, we just wouldn't be us, without moments like this:

So it's not exactly a peaceful zen garden around here - just nice and normal (for us).

My mom (who I cannot listent to a Joni Mitchell song without thinking of) always called my sister and I, 'Ladies of the Canyon,' as in," Alright, ladies of the canyon, time for bed"...and I've begun to call my own ladies the same, so goodnight from southwest Montana, the sisters 'A', and the ladies of the canyon.

"Pouring music down the canyon-
Coloring the sunshine hours
They are the ladies of the canyon."
-Joni Mitchell

playing & waking

2010-08-03T22:23:00.009-06:00

season, shift

2010-08-03T08:47:00.016-06:00

We are thick into summer life... and with the coming of August, the feel of summer seems to shift a bit. The sun feels a little bit weaker than it did in July, the air between you and the mountains is less crisp- with that late summer haze, the unfarmed hills bleach gold then fade to white...and you feel the beginning of an itch...for a new season.

In the meantime we're soaking up the final weeks of summer with visits to our favorite lakes and streams, roadtrips to the Bitterroot and Seeley-Swan Valleys, friends, family,water, sun. That race to drink up as much of the season while you can- in Montana, winter never feels very far away.

So it's full speed ahead until fall.

thank goodness for 'weeds' in the wheat field...

And now...a portrait of the artist...

Oh, and I'm getting rid of all our plastic toys; all this girl wants is a muffin pan full of rocks...

Hope you're enjoying the seaon,
and the shift.

"Let's take the time to walk together,
while we have the sun.
You never know when
tempermental weather's gonna come..."
-Mirah

p.s. I have a giant crush on my new camera! And I believe it to be too large to fall between the bars of a cattle-guard...so I have that going for me!

short rant

2010-07-19T09:02:00.002-06:00

It's not even 9 am and so far we've have one tear-filled time out after Amelia pushed Aven off her chair, one horrid diaper that warrented a full shower for Aven (and made me long for the ease of disposable diapers - though not enough to actually put one on her) , after which she promptly threw-up blueberry/banana smoothie all over her white towel...the dryer is on strike so said diaper and towel will need to hang on the line after being washed...

Time to strap the little beasties in the stroller and run like a mad woman....until I feel sane again!

a new river

2010-07-15T09:08:00.003-06:00

I have loved rivers everywhere I've ever lived; from Sourdough Creek that rambles through Bozeman, to lazy summer days floating the Blackfoot with friends and beers, to submerging my 8 days overdue! pregnant body in the Bitterroot River last August praying for those first contractions while trying to keep cool.

We've just met the Big Hole River....

but I think we'll get along, just fine...

why would my child rather eat rocks than food?...potting soil is a close second...

After leaving the river and admiring the cactus along the side of the road,

we made a quick stop at another fishing access...where I dropped my camera through the bars of a cattle guard that just happened to be filled with water...(sigh)

My camera's recovery is not looking very good at this point. So my blog may be a little short on photos for a while.

Hope to be back soon.

feeling independent

2010-07-07T13:26:00.006-06:00

This place is my 'home base.'

Regardless of remodels and new furniture, it will always remain The Cabin,

where the air smells like lakewater, and reflected light is busy glittering and dancing to watery rhythms on your ceiling when you wake in the morning.

There is nothing like full-on summer at the lake; when the last of the snow recedes from the rugged mountains of the Bob Marshall Wilderness, trips to the Ice Cream Place are a daily occurence, and the water finally grows warm enough for more than just a quick dip.

It is so wonderful to watch my children discover this place.

To watch them breathe in air that tastes of glaciers, watch turtles lay eggs on the rocky shore, dip their toes and hands in the lake, and come away with a yellow bracelet of pine pollen.

There is the feeling of skimming across the top of the water in Grandma & Grampa's boat,

dinners on the deck,

baths in the sink,

cozy naps while changing altitudes,

and the tradition of the 4th of July Parade:

The morning of the 4th, I escaped for a few hours for my own celebration of independence; a hike in one of my favorite places...all...by...myself!!!!

The view from the top (in any direction) is incredible. To the east are the falls,

and to the west:

On the hike back down to my car I had to strip down and jump in the lake - ahhhh -
Go Independence Day!

the greatness of a kiddie pool

2010-07-07T08:14:00.005-06:00

We finally had some warm weather...it actually made it into the 70s...woot woot!

Our headquarters for sunny summer days:

We lose whole parts of the day out here...

And then break for lunch...

zen and the art of driving to grandma's

2010-07-06T20:55:00.004-06:00

It started out as a quiet morning of focused puzzle do-ing...

And letter 'H' drawing...

Not surprisingly, this peaceful self-occupation did not last through the packing process...So I packed for a typical Montana summer week at the lake; sun hats, snow hats, bathing suits, rain coats, fleece vests, life jackets...and lots of snacks...all while singing Baby Beluga and dancing like a mad-woman to keep their attention on me instead of on unpacking our bags while I'm not looking.

We hit the road by naptime - it's just shy of 200 miles from our front door to grandma's, so I guessed about three hours, which would make for a long nap, but I was feeling optimistic....

After driving 40 miles, we'd already stopped twice. Both girls decided they were starving the minute we hit the road, so I served up snacks like a good stewardess while piloting the car at about 75 mph...not for the faint of heart...

Then Amelia decided to share her string cheese with Aven, which is very sweet, except that I kept picturing Aven's giant front teeth neatly chomping off a perfect throat-plug sized piece of cheese, then quietly choking in the backseat while all I can see is the back of her rear-facing carseat. Stop number one - wipe slimy chewed-up cheese off of Aven while parked on the off-ramp and swap her a teething biscuit and her sippy cup of water.

15 miles later Aven is screaming her head off and Amelia has to "really really pee, mama." Stop number 2: a very windy rest stop with awesome rocks for Amelia to climb on while I change Aven out of soaking wet-clothes (apparently the sippy cup sprung a leak), and nurse the poor cold babe, and let Seeley run around and pee on bushes. Quick stop in the bathroom where the extremely heavy door nailed Amelia in the head, and we're off once again....

Look at my face - weary, weary mama!

But they both crashed and slept the rest of the way (whew)!

Then it became this beautiful, relaxing drive through places that contain all these old memories for me. This stretch of road was the first highway I ever drove on; when I was 14 with my learner's permit and my step-dad pulled over and told me to get behind the wheel.

I had all these wonderful full-circle feelings driving my own daughters toward the lake, remembering making this same trek as a child; the fullness of summer, the green fields and blue rivers that make me feel like this is home.

Then the first glimpse of the mountain lake that I first swam across 20 years ago, that I learned to sail and canoe on, sweet with the smell of pine pollen and cool, silty glacial sediment- even the air feels green with run-off, snowmelt, the essence of the history of the earth. I feel it all floating on my back in these waters that have held me as a child, that held me while I carried my daughters in my body.

Down the tunnel of red-dirt road and lodegepole pine...

and we are there.

running new roads & a pitchfork fondue

2010-06-28T15:24:00.013-06:00

I've found this wonderful place to run and walk...
From a distance, it doesn't look like much, or maybe a better way to say it, is that, it doesn't look like anything fancy; a rocky hill, rolling grass, wide open sky
When people ask me how I like living here, I usually just say that I've never taken so many pictures of the sky in my life...

I have two passengers, so real 'hiking' doesn't work these days, but a decent road and my wonderous-life-saving-double-stroller...yes... we can do that.

I usually don't see anyone, sometimes a lone pickup will drive by, usually with a dog or two in the back
I feel independent and strong out there- the hawks seem to fly along the road with me.

The business that Mike bought (which prompted our move to this part of the world) had a 'retirement / meet-the-new-guy' party the other weekend. The Dillon term for such a thing is a 'pitchfork-fondue'... intriguing, yes?
Amelia planted herself in a group of rowdy kids...and had a blast

we are feeling very welcomed...

bloom

2010-06-20T19:10:00.003-06:00

ahhhhhhhhhhh.......

explorations

2010-06-15T09:57:00.005-06:00

I've lived in Montana my whole life, but have spent very little time in this part of it - the light reminds me of Bozeman, where I lived for five years of grade school and one year of high school. Anyway, it has that same open, expansive valley light that makes everything look kind of lit-from-within and golden regardless of the time of day. So beautiful...

This new sense of vastness practically begs us to explore it...from the far off mountains in the distance,

to the brilliantly colored life that thrives on a smaller scale

or those monumental adventures that happen within the walls of our home, like turning three,

or getting the bathtub all to yourself,

From our little spot on the planet it feels like we could take off in just about any direction - so many possibilities...

"Tomorrow will open again, the sky wide,
as the mouth of a wild girl, friable
clouds you lose yourself to. You are lost
in miles of land without people, without
one fear of being found, in the dash
of rabbits, soar of antelope, swirl
merge and clatter of streams."
-Richard Hugo, 'Driving Montana'

walking to the mailbox

2010-06-09T15:00:00.003-06:00

We're finding our stride, I think.
Finding our new pace, a general rhythm to the days,

Most days the girls and I walk down our long driveway to the mailbox; I've never felt so inspired just getting the mail...

Then back to the house before it starts to rain.

good omen

2010-06-09T14:45:00.006-06:00

I'm a believer in making your own luck, taking responsibility for your own life, actions, outcomes. That said, a good omen should not be overlooked.

We began our move in the late afternoon under thick grey skies and rain. Halfway through our drive the clouds began to break,

and then this:

last post from the 'root

2010-05-27T18:55:00.007-06:00

Thunderstorms have ricocheted back and forth across the valley all day today. When I dropped Amelia at her preschool this morning, my windshield wipers were going full speed and the bird was putting her green frog boots to work in every puddle between the parking lot and school door. Seems like I was just posting pictures of her first day of school, and today was her last since we’ll be leaving for our new home in the morning. By 10:30 the sun was burning through the clouds so I hustled Aven into the stroller and ran my 40 minute run in 30 minutes because I had a loaf of bread in the oven that really didn’t need more than 30 minutes, and I had to grab a quick shower before I picked up the bird- so as not to offend any other mamas with my post-run-less-than-fabulous-self when saying our goodbyes. I felt pretty together- endorphins flowing from the run, pulling this beautiful loaf of bread out of the oven just in time,

(I didn't bake it in the toaster...just used the rack to cool)

showering off the sweat and getting dressed to find this freshly-awoken little thing just chilling in the stroller in the backyard-

definitely one of those 'I-can-rock-this-motherhood-thing' moments.

We had Amelia’s birthday this weekend- a few weeks early, but it was a good excuse to get everyone together before we leave. She has been talking for months about her birthday party and how she would have a chocolate cake, with white frosting, “andthenblowoutthecandles!”

Which is just about how it happened!

Aven is getting stronger and more agile every day. She climbs up on this chair all by her crazy self!

The other day we were running errands downtown and Ameila decided she needed to pick every single dandelion for the entire length of an alley. I tried to hurry her along at first, but eventually just gave in and ended up picking flowers with her. On the way home she handed flowers out to everyone who stopped to talk to her, which was just about everyone whe passed on the street. One lady even recited a poem she'd written about dandelions!

I can't believe she will soon be three...

home-making

2010-05-20T14:19:00.006-06:00

We have about a week before we officially set up residence in our new home. I feel like I keep forgetting that this change is so immanent, that our daily lives are going to soon look very different.

I’ve lived in this valley for almost five years, and in our funky little white house for four. We have always talked about how to change it, fix it up, improve it, make it a little less funky. But we never really have, although it has changed so much since I’ve lived here. This is the house we brought two new babies home to, planted way more gardens than any sane people would, crowded our friends into our tiny kitchen for dinner and drinks and stories. In the summers we listen to Joan Zen playing downtown through our open bedroom window, in the winter we haul load after load of firewood through the house to the woodstove to keep us warm, as we watch storms move across the mountains. Mike comes home for lunch most days, I walk the girls to the library for storytime, Amelia opens any door of the house and wanders the yard on her own, visiting the chickens, playing in the sandbox, climbing her willow.

This house is not fancy- it is generous to call it plain. It’s been a good home for the last four years.

So, once again, (because I am my mother's daughter (and my dad's, too, although he doesn't say it, he lives it), I say: ‘Life is an ocean, always in motion.’

Off we go!

at the river

2010-05-18T13:59:00.001-06:00

in the news

2010-05-14T08:22:00.001-06:00

Brief mention, but all press is good press, right?

http://ravallirepublic.com/news/local/article_94927330-5d6a-11df-ad0f-001cc4c002e0.html

rally

2010-05-07T13:19:00.010-06:00

Our valley had sun today so the girls and I spent all morning at the park with friends; swinging, sliding, riding bikes, trading bikes, fighting over bikes, eating each others' snacks, etc...It finally feels like spring! Hooray! Just in case you were wondering what absolute joy looks like:

It's been cold in this part of the world...very cold for May. It's been hard to keep two kids occupied inside when all we want to do run around barefoot in the grass...and, while an umbrella holds a lot of allure for a two-year-old, there are only so many times I feel like I can rally the enthusiasm for yet another freezing rain walk.

I can't blame it all on the weather-it is a combination of lack of sleep (I celebrated prematurely when Aven only woke up twice the other night- last night was 4x and Amelia was up once, too!), lack of organization, and an overwhelming 'to-do' list...which all combine to leave me attempting to balance: a) some inner peace, and b) some enthusiasm all while carrying Aven in one arm, while cooking dinner, and answering questions about dinosaurs, and hanging diaper covers out on the line, and getting the eggs from the chicken coop, and answering the phone, etc....! And with Mike working a lot (he left at 4:30 this morning and we won't see him until probably after 7....x6 days a week since the middle of March!), I'm feeling the single-parent pressure (how do they do it?)

So I've started to have these 'rally' moments. When I feel like I'm getting close to the abyss of frustration where I have no idea how to get it all done and still enjoy my life- I stop and I rally. We turn up the radio and have a kitchen dance party, or I ingest some more caffine, or I take some pictures, or I pile my girls on top of each other on the bed until we're all laughing...whatever it takes, to stop, collect myself, and keep going. With love for what I'm doing. That's really the key- I could just slog through another crazy day...but I don't want to. I want to love it.

The rally is essential...many, many times over the course of the day!

My garden is very scaled back this spring since we're moving and I'm not even sure what I'll do with the plants I've started since I have no prepared garden for them at our new place...hmmm...will have to think about that...Anyway, beautiful peppers, tomatoes, and eggplants are all kicking.

I don't know why I didn't think of it sooner...fun with a typewriter!

Post-bath naked time:

Bed head...and slow mornings reading lots of books...
It still amazes me that I'm actually in charge of two whole people...

spring skies

2010-05-04T09:53:00.006-06:00

strange findings...

2010-05-03T09:27:00.009-06:00

I'm doing a lot of packing these days, and I keep coming across this strange phenomenon...so I started to document it...There are rocks all over my house...In a cup next to the honey, forming a tiny cairn pile on our desk, in my junk basket...Just minding their own business on the shelf above the sink...

And apperently the phenom spreads all the way to my car...hmm....

follow me, okay?!

2010-04-28T13:15:00.013-06:00

Bestill my heart...the girl likes dirt!
Amelia has been building 'trains' across the living room- see Aven making her escape?She is finally starting to eat some food that does not come from mama...she must be growing those giant teeth for something!
Beneath five layers of wallpaper and three layers of paint...and one very old roll of blue carpet lies...our new bedroom!

And our lovely new office...don't mind the staples still in the floor- it's a work in progress...do notice the giant lilac bush outside the window...I've planted baby lilacs everywhere I've lived and always moved before they'd grown much...this house is surrounded by gigantic, old lilac bushes-prepare for some pictures...This is the view from the side porch of our new house...
And this is how we have been moving- who needs a uhaul? I drove this beast over the pass, turned it around in our tiny driveway, unhooked the trailer to drive to town, hooked the thing back up, and drove back over the pass...and found wide spots along the highway to pull over so my two-year-old could stop and pee! Hardcore Montana Woman?...umm, yes!
This is probably exciting to very few...the first lettuce from the coldframe is picked for Mike's lunch.. "Come on guys, let's go, follow me, okay?!"

The Beginning...?

2010-04-14T08:28:00.003-06:00

Of sibling rivalry?We were driving down the road the other day when Amelia saw three hills out the window...

"Mama, that's a mama hill, a big girl hill, and a baby hill...

The big girl hill says: 'mama, pick me up,'

the mama hill says: I can't pick you up, I'm carrying the baby hill,'

and the baby hill just says 'bah, bah, bah...'"

New Moves and Some Catching Up

2010-04-12T10:38:00.012-06:00

So much for March...ahem...here it is the middle of April!

I can give you the highlights: Fabulous vacation in February- PA, NJ, FL, Bonaire, very little sleep and lots of (ahem) flexibility and forgiveness on all sides (sorry about that passport issue, Mike!) but a great trip!
I'll be back soon, I promise! With the latest on our big move...

catching our breath

2010-01-29T12:40:00.008-07:00

Things are moving pretty fast around here- unusual for January, but we've somehow lucked out and had the opportunity to travel like mad.

I took the girls to Arizona last week to visit my dad and sister (and other lovely extended family that I hadn't seen in way too long). Hadn't been to the desert in five years which is crazy because, although I grew up in Montana, Alli (sister- yes...we're Ellie & Alli) and I went to Arizona about four times a year...which definately makes the place feel like home. We stepped off the plane into rain...on the desert... which is one of the most wonderful smelling things you can imagine.Spent the week checking out cactus, hugging non-cactus trees, picking oranges, asking Grampa Scott what he was doing every five seconds, playing with Missoula-the-dog, feeding giraffes with aunt Allie, fighting the urge to jump in every fountain we came across, rearranging all the coasters and cat toys in the house....and MORE!Both girls traveled like pros- Aven spent her first ever flight on the plane alternating between sleeping and grinning at everyone she could make eye contact with- I swear she is the happiest kid on earth. Amelia was a little disappointed to learn that there is a difference between a pilot and a pirate, but handled the news pretty well.

Amelia has also discovered how to use my camera, so I thought I'd include a few shots from my budding Ansel Adams...

Propably won't be back until March! We're leaving at an ungodly early hour tomorrow morning for a week in Pennsylvania with Mike's lovely family, then three weeks in tropical Bonaire with my mom teaching Amelia to scuba dive...or snorkel anyway- Mike and I will be diving! Now I have to get back to packing for my entire family for two completely different climates which equals a mountain of junk on my kitchen table. I'll be throwing in my old copy of Nine Stories, in memory of J.D. Salinger who's "A Perfect Day for Bananafish" blew my little mind in high school and inspired me to write and keep on writing. See you in March, my friends!

nature walk

2010-01-06T21:14:00.009-07:00

something about that end of the day light that makes every picture you take turn out fabulous...or it could simply be having such a glamorous subject.

My alter-ego: 'Sherpa-Mom' with dog leash hanging over my shoulder, M&Ms in my pocket to lure Amelia a little further, and Aven strapped in her pack...I won't even tell you how much planning and time it took to get us to this point...

It all makes me so glad that I'm still living in Montana, that I'm raising my kids here.

a new year

2009-12-31T14:48:00.007-07:00

The house is suddenly, unexpectedly quiet. I put on my own music and hide ‘The Cat Came Back’ in a stack of other CDs. I’m standing in the living room, strapping Amelia’s stick horse’s head back into it’s bridle when I realize that the year is ending. The other evening I heard a song on the radio that came out when I was in high school. It’s one of those songs that has all this memory, and nostalgia tied to it, and brings back the intensity of every major (or minor) daily event- the way we feel when we’re 15, or the way I did, anway. And it just happens to be about the year ending. This song came on while I’m sitting in the very un-chic-but-oh-so-necessary-when-you’re-breastfeeding recliner that lives in our kitchen. I’m holding Aven on my lap (just post feeding) and I start singing along with this song, and she goes crazy! She squawks along, coos, waves her arms and legs, gives me that wonder-filled wide mouth, wide eyes look, loving it. So I sing this song to her that reminds me of being 15, of the glow of blue Christmas lights strung across my room, the first boy I really loved, the snow outside my window, the feeling that my life was just beginning to start. And I had this moment with her, sharing this sudden memory, this slice of emotion from my past. So days later, the song is still in my head, and I used to own the CD, but sold it in college when I was broke, I think, or gave it to someone…in any event, I don’t have it and I am feeling that obsessed with a song feeling that also reminds me of being 15, but one difference between then and now is ITunes (which I’ve just learned to use in the last month or so), so viola- I now have the song!

Only it’s not the same. I play it once, then over again. I sing along.

Then I realize that it’s not the same for me, because I’m not looking forward to something better anymore. The last year of my life was pretty damn amazing; I became a mother again- and it didn’t scare me this time, I was able to really soak it up and enjoy the amazingness of all of it, I grew a fabulous garden, Amelia learned to talk so I've been let in on all her ideas, and humor, and sweetness, Mike and I are (quite possibly) better than we've ever been together, I made new friends, I wrote some poetry, and I got creative in new ways.

I am looking forward, but not as a way to escape where I am now…I want to let it roll over me with that same wide eyed joy, mouth open, tasting, breathing in each new thing.

the dancing gene

2009-12-24T08:10:00.004-07:00

It must be something I unknowingly handed down…a dancing gene that I’d suppressed starting in junior high when our little school ‘dances’ in the gymnasium left my usually athletically confident self, a little unsure…then more unsure. Then absolutely sure that I had no rhythm and could not dance to save my life. But before all that, I had danced. There was ritual to it, and tradition. Each year on the night our Christmas tree was lit and decorated and standing very tall in the living room (my mom was a fan of old-growth tree harvest), my sister and I would dress up in all the flowy, gauzy, poofyness we could find, and we would dance like the most graceful of ballerinas beneath the light of the tree. It became our tradition, something that welcomed in that Christmas-y feeling, that made us feel that the world was a slightly more magical place during the month of December, that feeling that is so strong when you’re a kid. Last night while I was making dinner and simultaneously rocking Aven on my hip, listening to NPR, and drinking a glass of wine (a bit in my own world, I will admit), Amelia dug into her dress-up trunk, decked herself out in purple velvet and a crown and began dancing all by herself in the living room beneath the light of the Christmas tree. My girl has the dancing gene! I put on some Mozart, grabbed a few long, flowy scarves, and the three of us danced back and forth across the living room with all the grace, wonder, and joy that I remember, that I thought I had lost as I left childhood.

nothing

2009-12-22T14:32:00.006-07:00

I don't feel that I've lived a particularly sheltered life. I've wandered a bazaar in Istanbul, slept beneath the stars in the fabulously cosmic Oak Creek Canyon in Arizona, lived on my own for a summer in the West Indies...but there is nothing, nothing, nothing that makes me feel more grateful to be alive than this:Aven has been fighting off (yet another)winter cold, and the cough in her chest sounds way too big for her small body. Soothing her to sleep on my shoulder and feeling her body relax against me is what makes me willing to walk the house with her, swaying and singing for as long as she needs me to.