them apples

fall means many things to many people
for me it's the return of sweaters and fires,
regular consumption of hot tea,
pumpkins on the front steps,
a beach trip if I'm lucky enough,
that crisp hurt-your-eyes fall blue sky and lack of summer haze....

and apples,
fall most certainly means apples

Not long after I moved down to North Carolina, I contacted a couple local farmers about part-time work and ended up helping out a guy with an organic apple (and now, veggies and peaches and more) operation.  It's been years since I worked for him in any capacity, but we make a trip out each fall and he so generously gifts us with a bushel or so of the (delicious) fruits of his labor.

before I knew him, I thought golden delicious apples were anything but

yellow and mushy and bland...... blech! I said
no, no, he said- try one fresh from the tree, one that hasn't been sitting in storage (or bobbing around in water) in near freezing temperatures for six months (or so)

in other words, I now realize, one from your own hemisphere, at the time of year
that they are meant to be enjoyed...

and well looky there- turns out they (the goldens) are one of my favorites after all

this year we went on my birthday, after an amazing lunch at The Asheville Public
(a wonderful and new-ish local place that does food and ambiance equally fabulously)
and came home with a mix of galas, goldens, romes, and granny smiths

How could I not love a place that has vintage mix-and-match table and chair sets, big fat fries (I am not sure why other kinds of fries even exist), etch-a-sketches for the kiddos, and delicious food?  I actually went outside to get my camera out of the car so I could take some pictures of the loveliness of it all.

there was a birthday pie
there has been a lot of peeling done by an excited certain little someone

and today, inspired by Ashley,
we made some apple print art,
something I've wanted to do for a long time

ta-da!
super fun and easy, really
I used acrylic paints since that's what I had on hand, so it will be hung as art, but I suppose
with some nontoxic fabric paint we could make up some sweet little apple napkins (appkins?)

there will be more apple printing,
roasted apple butter,
maybe some apple sauce,
and at least several more pies



linking up with amanda at the habit of being

32 years, 32 things

Today I turned thirty-two.  It's become a tradition of mine the last few years to make a list of things I am grateful for on my birthday.  With the number of things being equal to my years.  There have been repeats, of course, (though I don't let myself actually read the old list before making the new) and they are in no particular order, as you might imagine after reading the list.  I'm hoping I've got many, many more lists to make.  40 more? 50 more? 60?  We shall see.

So here are my 32:

I am grateful for.......


the way the chickens come running when I call them with my lame 'chicken call', hoping I've got something good, like leftover oats or grubs, but politely not acting too disappointed when they see it's just more kale stems or another rotting tomato

my wonderful job that allows me to be a mama and contribute to our household finances at the same time, all while exploring my creative side

this sweet town I call home, and most especially the little nook we call our neigborhood

the wonderful tailgate market that provides a socializing/eating/coffee drinking/food buying ritual on Saturdays from May through October

the way that we are slowly making this house and yard into the home we want it to be

the you-know-who who often makes up (much) more than his fair share of the
previously mentioned "we"
(for so many things)

and the littler you-know-who for opening my eyes to so much over these last few years... to so many possibilities, truths, and so many lessons learned about myself and who I am and who I aim to be

the process of striving to be who I aim to be, and for the times I am mindful of doing so

the crickets and birds that fill the air with music that goes largely unnoticed much of the time, because the rest of the time, when I hear their songs so loud and clear, I can't imagine the world without them

living in an area that takes good, local food seriously.  from coffee roasters to chocolate makers, microbreweries (hello Beer City USA!) to goat cheese creameries and farms of all kinds.... yum, yum, yum.

my growing ability to listen to my heart, my instincts, my gut... whatever you want to call it.  it's louder than before, and I'm finding it much more persuasive these days

my family (through blood and through marriage) for being who they are~ loving, kind, and supportive

my friends, for the very same thing

the calendar showing an upcoming trip to the beach (!)

the salty ocean air that I will drink in while I'm there, toes in the sand, wind in my hair, cares put aside as I soak it all in....  the sand, the sea, the sunshine, the laughter carried across the beach and filtered through the wind and sounds of gulls mocking each other

my health

wonderfully welcoming and friendly librarians, who always make Claire feel so loved

being minutes away from miles and miles of beautiful hiking trails

our slow and easy mornings

breakfast picnics, though their days are dwindling (for this year)

the lavender-infused honey I picked up last weekend on the farm tour

and the lavender cream picked up at another farm the same weekend

cups of hot tea held close to my chest on chilly fall mornings (lavender-earl grey, perhaps)

all that we've gotten out of the garden and yard this year, and all that continues to grow

the free therapy provided in exchange for sinking my hands into the garden soil and working there

the excitement she shares for gardening.  even if it is a bit.... less..... focused on the outcome.

the way she says "oh. my. GOODNESS!" when she's surprised by or excited about something

so many of the sweet and absurd things coming out of that mouth these days

listening to her as she recites (from memory) a little blessing at the table:  "thank you for the wind and rain, the sun and pleasant weather, thank you for this, our food, and that we are together."

the bushel of apples gifted to us by a friend today, after he showed us around his farm

hellooooooo birthday apple pie! (thanks, babe)

the amazing lunch shared with my loves today, and that a little Van Morrison came on as we lingered over the remains of a delicious and enormous feast



another year, another opportunity to sit, quietly thinking about the things that fill me up,
make me smile, and make my heart swell with gratitude

a farm tour kind of weekend

We welcomed fall back this weekend with a farm tour here in western NC~

farm tour, day one:

Claire and I breakfasted on french toast then met friends at the market for a little catching up before we headed out to pick up papa (he was busy having his head shaved for a charity fundraising event through the FD) for the farm tour.

We visited four farms.  Two were oh-so-wonderful, leaving us inspired and yearning for a farm of our own, one was just getting established and perhaps not quite 'there' for a farm tour event, and another was interesting but not so well organized and had a notable lack of signage to point us in the right direction(s).  The frustration of which was exacerbated by hunger and the slow coaxing of two-year-old feet up a long gravel drive that we hoped would lead to some lunch.  It did.  Which was, of course, helpful.

Heading out, I thought maybe we'd be able to see 5 or even 6 farms, all in one general area of Madison County.  The tour folks recommend not aiming for more than 3 or 4 a day though and they are on to something with that, for sure.  Our favorites of the day were East Fork Farm, which was so well run and organized and turns out to have a perfect little cabin (with cedar hot tub) available for rentals, and Wild Mountain Apiaries, a sweet little place where we watched chickens, got some of our bee questions answered (looks as though we'll be needing to combine our two hives to get them through the winter, more on that to come), lingered for a bit, and tasted lots of honey.  They have a micro-hydro electric system with solar backup and are completely off-grid.  Along with some new beekeeping gloves, we brought home a pound of sourwood honey and a small jar of amazing lavender-infused honey.  Claire's highlight was surely visiting (and revisiting, and re-revisting....) the table with the honey samples.  That girl is fearless, I tell you.  Despite the yellow jackets hovering all around and on the jars, she stood by, touching and tasting.

(pictured above is a tobacco field we passed~ although there were no tobacco farms on the tour, and they are, for various reasons, dwindling in number, it is a crop with a huge history in North Carolina and I find the huge lofty drying barns so lovely and the fields of speared and drying tobacco an eerily beautiful sight)

(this honey won't last long around here...)


farm tour, day two:

With Mike at work, Claire and I were joined by some dear friends for our farm tour adventures on Sunday.  After a slow morning at home, we picked them up and headed over the mountain towards Burnsville, in Yancey County.  We spent the majority of our time at one place~ the lovely beyond words Mountain Farm, home to many goats, a pair of guard llamas, some sheep and chickens, and lots of lavender.  My friend said at one point that it didn't even seem like the place was real, it was so idyllic.  And really, that's what it was like.  Various (beautifully built) barns and outbuildings were tucked into nooks and crannies in the generally steep landscape, there is a lavender labyrinth, sheep grazing with their bells quietly jingle-jangling, wind turbines spinning away.... it was also the loveliest of early autumn days, so it was hard to go wrong.  We sat in the sunshine on a hill covered in lavender and overlooking fields with goats and llamas, watching our girls play together and run around.  Perfect, really.  We each had a turn at milking one of their Nubians.  I quite enjoyed it (Claire helped, too), though was sad that I felt like I should do it quickly so as not to keep the next person waiting.  It's a bit of a bonding experience, you know?  That was the first time I milked an animal and I kind of felt like I should have lit a candle, dimmed the lights, and provided her with some soothing music.  Or something like that.  I've been there.  Candles, dim lights and soft music sure can't hurt.

After lingering a bit longer over warm cider and the lavender smells coming from the shop, we each purchased a few goodies, (soap, lavender spray, and lavender balm for me) got the girls in the car and drove a little ways over to another farm just in time to see a border collie herding demonstration and hear the farmer talk (quite lovingly) about his cows.

(they are being monsters up there, in case it isn't entirely obvious)

There wasn't a whole lot to see at the second farm.  Their heirloom apples had all been lost in a freeze this spring and the cows had been herded to a new field, and it was getting late, so after letting the girls run wild we poked around a bit and then got back in the car.  We wound our way down windy mountain roads and before heading into the home stretch, we decided: ice cream for dinner.

Dot's Dario.  A bit of a dive, in a converted and added onto trailer of sorts.  With a very odd changing blinky-light sign that scrolled through ice cream flavors and things like "Dot's Dairio- a great place to bring kids" with some really odd things thrown in here and there: some trivia, the very odd "they strike most often between 5 and 6am" (randomly in there between flavors and store hours, with no reference to who or what "they" are...) and something (I swear) about human blood (I'm thinking it must have been the answer to one of the off-beat trivia questions).  I mentioned it to the girl behind the counter and she leaned her head out, straining to see the sign, and said "I dunno, I've never read it."

Hmm.

Anyway, we got our usual, Claire and I.  Vanilla in a cone for her.  Sprinkles?  Yes, please.  A chocolate malt ("as malty as you can make it, please") for me.  We were bundled in sweaters and a blanket as we sat on the picnic table eating our ice cream.  The girls took turns wrapping each other up in the blanket and pretending they were babies.  Surely, this marked the final ice-cream-for-dinner night for the year for us.

At least out in the elements and all.

*linking up with amanda at habit of being

right on time

the butter on the kitchen counter is no longer soft when I spread it on my toast

the wind is indeed blustery

sweaters and slippers are back in rotation

we're spying monarchs floating through the yard a few times a day

swallowtail caterpillars have taken over a little patch of parsley

the sky is that deep, saturated, sky-blue blue that almost hurts to look at and

this week I will go see a friend about some apples




welcome back, fall

leisure. and such.

these last two (somewhat chilly, almost fall) nights have found Mike and I curled up on the couch together watching a few episodes of the first season of Downton Abbey on netflix~  it seems the authors of a few of the blogs I read regularly are quite into it, and so I thought I'd give it a shot.  I've got to say, after about 2 1/2 years (mmm, however old dear Claire is, approximately...) of very little television or movie watching on my part, it feels rather nice to sit passively and lose myself a bit in a make believe world.

tonight, after dinner and bath time and a relatively easy bedtime for the little miss, it was popcorn and dark chocolate covered coconut clusters to snack on as we watched.

I could get used to this.

there is a part of me that is beginning to very distinctly feel like I'm slowly getting back bits of myself and my freedoms that I have set aside these early years of mothering (I found it interesting to re-read what I wrote over a year ago about the very same thing)...... it has been my experience that the world of attachment-parenting can set you up for a rather slow retrieval of those bits and pieces.  especially if you aren't actively seeking them and mindful of looking out for such things.



I hereby intend to be ever mindful of such things.

weekending

we hit the ground running on Saturday morning

to the market for breakfast, coffee in hand
a chocolate croissant for mama
a savory bagel with cream cheese for them
throw in a strawberry lemonade for her
she mostly people-watched

we sat in the shade and talked for a while

I needed those relatively still moments of connecting
for me, that's what it's all about

we left with some wild sockeye salmon
and roasted & glazed almonds and pecans

off to the folk art center for heritage weekend festivities
bees, sheep-shearing, blacksmithing, clogging.....

she polished off the nuts as we listened to music and watched the dancing
and then it was back into the car with some new music in hand,
to head down the parkway towards Weaverville

we found some books at a library sale,

walked in the street, 

they danced and I browsed 

and then lunch

this place is really something else

roasted red pepper/spinach/feta quiche, sausage strata, kale salad...

dessert followed, of course

mini carrot cupcake for her, mini eclair for him, swedish cream with blackberries for me...

we stopped at a bison farm on the way home and met a very sincere and gracious farmer
we were going to stop earlier but they are appointment only and we'd only just confirmed
where they were on our way to weaverville
(which was rather comical in that it started out with Mike remembering there was a bison farm out that way that he'd been meaning to check out, so he pulled over on a dusty gravel road and started searching on his phone. When he finally found it and zoomed in he discovered we were stopped at the end of the very road the farm was on, and we were parked about 10 yards from a sign that stated, clear as day,"Bison Meat, 1 mile")
the farm's number was on the sign

home to grill the salmon and enjoy some garden goodness
in the form of brussels sprouts and grilled green onions

it was a long day
longer than most for this home-loving trio

Sunday morning arrived bleary eyed
a visit from beeba (that's my mom, according to Claire, for those who don't know)
coffee, toast and sweet play time
Claire telling her 'I don't want you to go because I love you...'
oh, sweetness

daydreaming of
new coops and fire pit benches,
small backyard ponds and cob ovens

I listened to the rain and typed,
stared out the window as she napped
a novelty, these days
just as I thought I'd head in to join her she woke
but full of snuggles and then silly stories
so I couldn't complain
not really


*linking up with amanda at the habit of being

slow and easy

after all of that, it seems so obvious that breakfast picnics and slow mornings
are indeed where we're at
and I am peacefully and happily drinking that in and letting it feel just right

and it is
just right and then some

perhaps not...

I wanted so badly for it to work out.  She seemed so sure of herself and so ready those first couple days.  Alas, it has gone downhill from there and tonight, after a long discussion (oh, we need to have ever so many more of those!) Mike and I decided to call it quits on school for Claire for the time being and hold off for a bit.

School for her wasn't on my radar at all when the head of school from our local Montessori school, where I worked for 5 years before Claire came along, called up to see about a work-trade possibility for this fall.  I thought.  I visited.  We chatted.  It seemed promising.  Just a couple mornings a week.  She'll LOVE it, I was sure.  She's so independent and so interested in exploring, and it will appeal to her sense of order and certainly she could use some time with her peers..... and, and, and........

Well.

After 2 good days and then an easy drop off again on the third, that third day ended roughly 1 hour into the morning.  Claire, inconsolable after 3 different kind souls tried to offer her a loving shoulder and comfort, wasn't having it.  Nope.  It was "mamaaaaa!" and only me.  We tried again the following week (last week) and had one very trying day and then a day that went great aside from one itsy bitsy little detail.  That I was in the room with her all day, and if I went out of sight, she melted.  As long as I was in there, she was happy to go about her own business and let me do my thing.  That has to count for something, right?  Surely it does, but that's not really the long term plan.  The trade doesn't involve me being in her room.  Today, (even though the plan was to try to go in again like I did last time, perhaps helping 'ease' her in, since the drop-off-and-leave route doesn't fly with her and she will howl until I come and not accept comfort from others) I tried to leave her after seeing she was doing well, but I made the mistake of not telling her and ended up back in the room again and even with me there, it was teary at times.  Not so pretty.

I have gone back and forth over this for the last 2 weeks.  I've been sure of this and then sure of that and then minutes later back to the drawing board.  I feel like such an amateur.

Really though, I suppose I am.

Here's the thing. (really, there are about twenty "things")  She was going two days a week.  Two days we'd work at, and then any progress made was largely dissolved over the following 5 days where we got back into our regular at-home routine.  Because what else were we going to do?  We kinda dig our home routine, you know?  And that's what it's all about.  I wanted it to work for her because I thought it could fill a gap in her world.  I saw her working confidently and at ease while I was in there the one day "we" made it through, and I wanted that for her.  I wanted her to spend time exploring in a space where she could relate to others her age or thereabouts, to play and become part of this wonderful little community.

But 2 days a week just doesn't give enough consistency for us to power through the challenging days and help her hold onto her baby steps from day to day.  And (and this is a big one).... she is just two and a half, and so I'm not even sure that it's developmentally appropriate for her, at this point, to be ready for school.  It certainly doesn't appear to be individually appropriate, anyway.  And so I shall follow my child back to the place where school wasn't on my radar, and we will go back to our home time that we are truly so very lucky to have, and we shall try again later.

I won't say I'm not disappointed.  I am disappointed.  Not in her, of course.  And not that she isn't ready for school at 2 1/2.  And not really in myself for not having prepared her in other ways, because I stand wholeheartedly by our attachment parenting choices and I feel that her attachment to me is healthy and appropriate and I am in no rush to break that and rush my fledgling towards independence.  That will come sooner than I'm ready for it anyway, I know.  So just in general then, I suppose.  Because I had in my mind what I hoped and thought it might be like, and because it did not turn out that way.


A lesson for me, then (geez, another?).  Maybe a big one, (or many) should I choose to dig into it.


If things were different, if the circumstances were that we needed her to be in school right now and I wasn't just doing a trade in order to give her this opportunity (and therefore, by necessity, just drove off and didn't have the option of coming into the class or hearing her screaming...) then maybe she'd have a few weeks of really hard days, get through it and learn a bit about how she can in fact power through the harder moments and gain a little independence from me.  And then she'd be alright.  Proud of herself.  Acclimated.

Maybe that's how it'd go down.  But who knows.  She is a persistent and very willful little girl.  She is smart.  She knows what she does and doesn't want.

Undoubtedly there is a huge societal pressure to have our children be ready to do this or that at increasingly early ages.  And I admit that (even as a parent who hadn't previously considered any sort of early schooling aside from what we do at home for her) I was happy and so proud of her when she rocked those first days.  Maybe it even made me feel like surely I'd 'done something right' as a parent.  See how confident and autonomous she can be at such a young age! (and such)  And so now I find a small part of my mind asking if I am doing her a disservice by not allowing her to go through the rough patch of teary school transition.  Guilty for denying her the opportunity to prove to herself and us that she can work through her fears and her tears and come out shining.  That I'm keeping her little wings from spreading a bit.

But then my heart shouts "Hold up!  she is two.  TWO!  there is plenty of time for all of that, embrace the time you have together now and stop stressing over this ridiculousness!"
And thank goodness for the wise heart.

But given the length of this post, clearly I feel the need to defend my decision.  But to who?  To the pretend people that I fear are out there judging me for delaying my young child's ability to cope without me and become independent?

Well, pretend people out there, I say to you....... I say...
I say Wait, why am I even wasting energy addressing you?
There is life to be lived and enjoyed and we may all do well to throw aside our worries
over the pretend voices of some pretend negative people.

And maybe we could do a little looking and searching and asking within, since
that's often where those voices are coming from anyway.

I am happily choosing to follow my heart in this one, not my fears.

us

breakfast picnics have been the thing for three days straight
the fall-like weather makes them a tad chilly, but you won't find me complaining about
bundling up to greet the sun with tea in hand and my girl by my side

she's telling little stories
talking to all sorts of inanimate objects, answering their questions....
it's darn cute

when I look at her now I see my baby and a little girl at the same time
sometimes one stands out more than the other, sometimes quite a bit more
other times it's a tough call to make

tonight we split a big fat chocolate chip cookie after dinner and
she fell asleep quickly

the deposit has been paid for our beach rental 

4 days in Folly next month

a new place for us, but

as long as there is sand and salty ocean air,

seafood and laughter,
bicycles and seagulls,
and reading time on the porch,
I'm good
so much more than good

I've been putzing around online,
listening to a lullaby iTunes mix made for her long ago
heavy on Van Morrison, of course
since I made it
and now my eyes are getting tired so off to bed I go

easy like sunday morning

after a full saturday spent hosting a yard sale, hanging with friends and trying out a pretty sweet new local restaurant, Claire and I stayed close to home today~

we had a breakfast picnic in the sunbeams on the walkway in front of our house

(we are tearing through the cardamom-spiced pear butter from last year)

we lingered there, drinking our hot (and not so hot) tea
doing a bit of planning, a bit of drawing
some dolly tending...

(this started as a balloon, but ended up as a "shunshine" with a tiny balloon inside)

inside, she occupied herself with songs and not-too-mischievious mischief
as I did some searching for a house rental for an upcoming beach trip
it's been a year since I've had sand in my toes
real beach sand, anyway
and October is my favorite time to go to the beach

we lunched on a blanket in the grass
watched the chickens,
listened to birds...
there was talk of playing catch
the mitts and a ball were there
but we just looked at them

a wee little bit of gardening~
water the spinach and romaine
search out a couple ripe strawberries
some pulling of parsnips and beets and then,

a pre-dinner snack of popcorn and wine

dinner on the deck and then
her, throwing all of the chair cushions down to the ground...

and declaring the aftermath "her bed"
a blanket was requested
cloud watching followed
(yes, that is the same pajama shirt that she slept in and wore for the entire day, and yes, she is bottomless..... the reddish pile in the grass is her undies and pants, shed in order to pee outside before I could stop her. not that I typically do. we tend towards uncouth in that arena I am afraid. but potty training is just like that sometimes.  and yes, we grown ups are a bit more civilized.)

this, she informed me, is a bear

I can see it

she laid out there for a while,
all snuggled in and sing-talking to herself
I came and went, trying to hear the little stories she was telling

these sweet easy days fill me up just when I need them most
it seems there must be some divine method for when they are doled out
a nice balance to the sometimes strange waters of 2 1/2