May Days

Now that spring really does seem to be here for good, it feels so great to be outside, making plans, digging in the dirt, and working on things that don't involve snow removal or walking through snow, or thinking about snow in any way. We picked up our Fedco order and proceeded to do like we do annually, which is spend the next week planting everything. We put in some Oakleaf Hydrangea, Ninebark, Higbush Cranberry, and PeeGee Hydrangea along the front of the house with the idea that it will create a lovely hedge along a future stone walkway to the front door. With the snow finally gone, Alex and I measured and drew up a design for the new chicken run, and we'll continue the coop restoration on the exterior this month. Of course, while we were doing that, we got to talking about the old dead elm nearby that seemed a bit hazardous, so Alex went and suited up in his swanky safety gear and sawed that sucker down. It feels good to get things done. Definitely.

The Season Of The Heart : Yule : Day Nine

I knew it was going to be a good day of making and elving when I got out of the shower by 830am and Alex already had a tray of peanut butter balls (Buckeyes) made. Getting up an hour before the ducks (that's 6am), has its benefits, I see.



Later this morning, Alex and I went out to do some final bit of elving and the teens, who had sugar cookie baking plans stayed at home. A few errands later, we realized we were essentially on a date, so when our stomaches were growling as we zipped by a known but never visited diner, we turned around and pulled into the lot. We were not disappointed. Avocado green booths, faux bois brown Formica, teased hair-the Hi-Hat Pancake House has it all. It looks and smells exactly like a thousand other diners I must have eaten at as a kid. It was perfect, and it was as if we had traveled back in time.





Of course, we didn't realize just how far back in time were were until we went to pay our bill the usual way, with our debit card, only to discover the diner only accepts cash or checks. CHECKS! Oops! And sure enough, we had about $3 in cash between us. Another oops! Our only hope was that I had the checkbook in the car and so I ran outside, found the checkbook and we were good. Whew! Yes, Maine is one of those rare places left in the world where checkbooks still come in handy. We'll definitely return to the Hi-Hat, next time with the kids, and cash.



Finished with our errands, (we kept it local by shopping downtown Gardiner and Hallowell, which proved extremely fruitful), we arrived home and were greeted by the good scents of butter and vanilla, and the voices of our capable children enjoying each other's company in our cozy kitchen.









It was a good day, filled with small pleasures, some nostalgia, togetherness, and purpose. We finished the day with the contentment of knowing we are tucked in with no place to be but home for a week or more, and cookie tins are filled to the brim, too. We snuggled together and watched the Muppet Christmas Carol and got choked up from beginning to end.  This is the season of the heart, make it last all the year.

Thanksgiving Day, Our First At Bradstreet Farm

On Thanksgiving Day, we gathered around the worn pine, farmhouse table in the middle of the kitchen, set beautifully by Olivia with Nana's china and silver, and we ate food prepared with love by many hands. We gathered as family, as people with connections to each other, as people with a shared history. Before dawn, Max the cat begged for turkey scraps. We forgot all about the peas with onions were were planning to serve. We served sweet potatoes and not squash. And two types of gravy (vegetarian and turkey) and two types of cranberry sauce (whole and jelly). And my mother's Scalloped Corn, not corn scallop. We groaned with pleasure over Alex's Maple Cream pie. We weren't striving for perfect, and we didn't come close. What we had, was a meal with family. We had ritual and celebration. And for that we are truly thankful.

How To Hibernate

While the flu is still going strong in Maine, we've taken to hunkering down and perfecting our hibernation habits. Thankfully, no one in my family has been ill (knocks on wood) and we aim to keep it that way. One of the numerous benefits to unschooling is being able to limit our exposure to germs and make our own fun at home without getting restless.

We have been to the wonderful Saco River Winter Market, held in the old mill buildings on the bank of the river. This market is diverse and full of variety and is in a beautiful and unique setting, so if you are local, I recommend checking it out.







In an effort to contain and organize our fabric stash, Alex and I spent a recent afternoon cutting felted sweaters down for making quilts. I'll let you know how that project turns out.



There's been loads of reading happening, here. Both the kids have foot-high stacks of books on their nightstands, Alex is getting deeper into Discworld, and I'm reading Riordan's Heroes of Olympus series because Adam so enjoyed it.



Netflix, of course, has been a tremendous source of fun, from the Nova Now series to our latest favorite, Doc Martin. The kids have discovered the joys of The West Wing, too, so that makes for lots of interesting conversations. We did venture out to sob through Les Miserables and now we have two Les Miz fans who burst into song (or pass around memes) at any moment (I love my life!). We mostly liked it, but as one of my friends said, "Russell Crowe singing, LOL!" We did like it better than The Hobbit, and no, we don't want to talk about it.

We've been up to the homestead and have begun going through documents and important papers, and sorting through a hundred year's worth of family history. We've found everything from old sepia photos, hand written knitting patterns in beautiful script from 1900, and letters from Alex's grandfather, when he was conscripted for WWI in 1918 for service in France. Many of his letters asked about his horse, Princess, and he worried that his family would fall ill and die, like so many did, from that flu pandemic, as did my own great-grandmother.)





Alex has been putting in a tremendous amount of time to help his father sort through his affairs, and now we begin to carry out plans at the homestead, to restore the house and plan for the land. Entire days are spent planning, discussing, and researching. Papers spread over the dining room table, many phone calls are made and the next day brings the same. And yes, we marked the first month since Alex's mom died. Two articles resonated with us recently, because of all of this:

The 25 Documents You Need Before You Die and this most of all, A Radical Homemaker's Take on Investing

We finally had snow come, lots of it, and then it thawed, reaching record temps this week, and then, today it's back to snow and seasonable. It was nearly 60F here on Monday and today, the kids' first day back to choir was cancelled due to snow.








Hibernating is good for us. It allows introspection, time to really focus and create, time to delve into subjects and explore our passions. Soon enough, the activity of spring with have us seeking projects and interests outside, but for now, looking inside is a good thing.



If you can, give yourself permission to hunker down, hibernate, settle yourself in for winter. Your body, your mind and your spirit will thank you.

Full And Bustling Is November

Oh, November. The month that has nearly every day, and certainly every weekend accounted for. The month of putting the garden to bed and all the fall clean-up that requires. The month of tidying and in some cases, beautifying corners or our home. This is the month of menu planning, of making lists and ordering a turkey and tracking down other local foods. November means concerts and must-see movies. This is the month of extra rehearsals and classes winding down. November is MIT Splash!. November is resisting humming Yule music in the stores and compromising by singing along to the Love Actually soundtrack (at least until Santa arrives at the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade, that is.)







Today is chock-full of some rushed house cleaning, ironing clothes and ferrying both our teens to their rehearsal, then concert (they're performing some of Mahler's 3rd with the Southern Maine Children's Choir), plus packing and readying to be away for the weekend. We'll be up before dawn to head to Cambridge for Splash and we'll be home late Sunday, and then we jump right into Thanksgiving prep (we're hosting this year.) Oh, November, some think you are dreary, but I think you are wonderful.

And The Seasons They Go 'Round And 'Round: Common Ground Fair 2012

The seasons, they do go 'round and 'round and so we found ourselves traveling through the mist and fog, to and from Maine's Common Ground Country Fair, last weekend. We drove up on Thursday night to settle in at the homestead and we got an early start on Friday morning. Upon arrival, we were met with familiar sites and sounds, comforting in the cycle and rituals they represent, the autumn equinox mere hours away. We always enter through the farm market entrance, or Rose Gate, where buckets, crates, braids and garlands of vegetables, herbs, flowers and fruit greet us, vibrant and radiant in their good, organic lushness.








From year to year, the fair experience varies not at all in most ways. We walk the same paths, our eyes drawn to the same colors and textures, we even take the same photos from year to year and we likely visit the same vendors. In other ways our fair differs every year in taller, more independent children (ours now teens), the fullness (or thinness) of our own pocketbook, the friends and family we meet, the crops that thrived and the ones that didn't. The weather is most unpredictable of all. Will it be the rare fair where we melt, seek any scrap of shade and drink all the iced lemonade we can stand? Or will we need mittens and woolens, and fill up on chai and hot cider? Perhaps rain boots, ponchos and umbrellas will be needed? We all pay close attention to the forecast up until the fair, and inevitably we decide we need all our gear, shorts and t-shirts, wool hats and down vests, mud boots and slickers, and the contents of our mud room is dumped into the back of our car. We know, from years of experience, that the forecast means diddly-squat when you are miles from home and planning to spend three days on the fairgrounds.

Friday was cool and overcast, sunny in the evening. Saturday it misted and rained, was warm and sticky. Sunday, dawned crisp, brilliant and perfectly autumn. In other words, it was good we had a variety of clothing from which to choose.

On Friday, we visited the Youth Enterprise Zone and purchased some art, elderberry soda and breakfast and marveled at the variety of handcrafts Maine's youth produced.






The rest of Friday I spent visiting. At every turn I ran into a friend or a group of friends, some I hadn't seen in far too long. And so we talked, and sat, and little ones ran between us, their children curled in laps, mine found me and sat beside us and joined in the conversations. We caught up. We talked about our days, things we dreamed about doing, things we hope to never do again and simply laughed, enjoying the company of our friends.

Alex attended some demos while I visited with friends,  mostly those dealing with farmland protection and forestry management. We all made it a point to catch Friday's keynote featuring Shannon Hayes, author of Radical Homemakers. We liked a lot of what she had to say, most of it very familiar, having read her books and blog.  I strongly related to her advice to begin with something, make it a point to slow down in at least one area of your life and make it a ritual of mindfulness. She recommended hanging the wash on the clothesline. I listened to her words and nodded my head, knowing how true her words are for me. Hanging the wash requires me to slow down, it gets me outside, it's meditative and a ritual in home caring, in addition to all the other environmental benefits not running our dryers provides.





I think the rest of Friday, we spent eating, roaming the fair, visiting and enjoying the evening sun that broke through the clouds.












Saturday

Despite Friday evening's sunshine, Saturday brought a misty rain, the kind that will soak you if you don't wear rain gear, and because it was just warm enough, we were guaranteed a nice clammy, humid day, walking around being mostly wet and sticky. Fortunately, the mist didn't deter people from coming to the fair by the thousands. Unfortunately, this meant navigating the fair, sticky and wet, through throngs of people. We each had our Gene Wilder moment on Saturday, I think.




It wasn't the worst rain we've ever experienced at the fair, however and there were dry moments too. That morning, we made sure to visit the farmers early, to get loaded up on carrots, greens, onions, cider, maple syrup and honey. We also picked up bulbs at Fedco for planting this fall (so much planting! eek!) and a few other items that we have been coveting for many years. Alex, burdened like a pack mule, walked everything back to the car, came back and then we enjoyed the rest of our day, knowing we had some crucial purchases made before vendors sold out.







While we did some shopping, Olivia sat in on the farm apprenticeship discussion, and Adam decided to take MOOMilk on the volunteer request they had put out in an email. He spent the next four and half hours greeting people and pouring milk. The MOOMilk people told Adam over and over how much they appreciated his help. For Adam's part, he was thrilled to do it and insisted he'd be back on Sunday, to the wonder of the dairy farmers.




We spent the rest of the day looking for certain friends we knew were at the fair and never spotting them, sadly, as the crowd was so huge, and we stopped by the Taproot Magazine booth to see if Amanda needed a break. She opted to spend the next hour walking with me and Alex, catching up on families and farm news. It was a lovely hour spent with a friend. I was thrilled to finally get my subscription too, complete with back issues and I've been happily perusing since (sometimes I cry,  the pieces are that moving - I'm looking at you Steve Soule).




We took in more fair sites, and towards evening, found our teens again and enjoyed a meal together as the sun, once again, cleared the gloom away.










As the fair closed down for the evening, fog settled over the fairgrounds. The moon rose and the tents stood in ghostly relief against the periwinkle sky. The shape of my family blurred, their steps disappearing into the mist before me.









Sunday

Sunday was true to its name. The autumn equinox day glowed, radiated golden light and we took ourselves to the fair for the final day.



Sunday at the fair is almost always quieter, at least at the start. The morning was brilliant and we got breakfast, marveling at the perfectly clear, dry, perfectly autumnal day. Our kids opted for some just out of the wood fired oven pretzels for their first meal, and Olivia had to have her favorite Blood Juice (a beet, apple, lime and ginger concoction.) Alex and I had coffee and egg and ham sandwiches. We spotted, too, vendors, relishing the quiet morning before the crowds arrived. Looking up, we saw geese in chevron flight.









Alex and I went to a demo on farmland management, where horses and oxen plowed a field just paces away and a thumb-sized cicada landed at my feet, its wings beating noisily.







After breakfast, Adam went off to volunteer again at the MOOMilk booth and Olivia and I met up for the keynote presented by Sarah Smith of Grassland Farm.




After checking in with Adam and finding out he wanted to put in more hours, we found Alex and three of us went off to say hello to the fair's many animals, all of which seemed to also be enjoying the beautiful day and somewhat quieter fair.









Sunday afternoon, Olivia, Alex and I went to the lacto-fermentation demo that was really interesting and got us all anxious to go home and start, well, lacto-fermenting things (and oh boy have we, more on that in another post.)



With just an hour or two left of the fair, we went to claim Adam, whereupon the MOOMilk people raved more about Adam and offered to write him job and college recommendations. I think they might have packed him up to take him home with them if they could have. Adam was pretty pleased that he got to shake Chellie Pingree's hand and chat her up about the importance of saving Maine's dairy farms.

And so our fair came to an end. We walked out together, stopping to stock up on Maine Medicinal's Antho-Immune, (seriously can't say enough good things about the product) and we stopped one last time in the farm market to soak in the gorgeous colors and decide on any final purchases.






Content with our fair experience, we got our tired selves back to our car and Alex drove us over Maine's stunning, rolling farmlands, back to the homestead, where we would visit with his parents over tea before packing up and heading the two hours home.




Another year come and gone, many changes are afoot, and we thought about last year's fair and how quickly the year has passed. We reflect on those changes, the ones that have already occurred and the ones to come. Some will be or have been about upheaval, and others will be positive and deeply meaningful. As always, Joni Mitchell provides the soundtrack of our fair, as we play her in the car on our trips to and from (this year, with teens in the car, AWOLNation--amazing cd-- and The Killers joined the playlist). I'll see you at the Common Ground Fair next year perhaps, and we'll talk about the circle game.

And the seasons they go 'round and 'round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return, we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and 'round and 'round
In the circle game
And go 'round and 'round and 'round in the circle game.