Our (mindful, minimal) Advent

(all photos in this post are from years past)

When my daughter was just shy of three I decided on the eve of December to put together a simple little advent calendar for her.  It was the first year I felt she was really of an age to get into the anticipation and celebration of the season, and I wanted a simple way to pull more from the short and darkening days as we approached the winter solstice and Christmas.  Parenthood certainly amplified the seemingly light-speed passing of time, so I welcomed most anything that helped remind me to put on the brakes, slow down, and be in the moment.

When I say 'on the eve of December' I literally mean that I was sitting in the hall just outside her door quite late at night on November 30th cutting and fastening and decorating and hanging little colorful paper pockets numbered 1 through 24.  I'd seen all sorts of ideas about ways to put together a simple little calendar- from small packages strung from a branch to paper stars stitched shut with a little trinket inside to toilet paper tubes filled with treats and sealed over with tissue paper to wee little gnomes carrying scrolls of paper- ideas aplenty abounded on the inter webs, each one as lovely as the next.  Drawn as I was personally to the brown kraft paper and twigs look, I ended up going with brightly colored paper hoping to catch her two year old fancy.

Well, it worked.  That first year I often tucked a small treat inside the pocket- a candy cane maybe, or a new ornament.  A gift of a book or some other such thing with the paper pocket from that day clipped to it.  Those little capsule things that 'grow' into animal-shaped sponges when placed in warm water.  Treasures.  More often than not though, what was tucked inside the pocket was a note with a suggestion for something we could do together.  Sometimes service or community oriented, often a small way to mindfully yet meaningfully celebrate the season together.  In the mornings she would wake and we'd hear her run over to the calendar and reach her little toddler fingers into the pocket for the slip of paper for that day and come pitter-patter-stomping into our room for us to read it to her.  And a sweet and simple (and certainly a favorite) holiday tradition of ours was born.

At the end of each December day there comes the second part of our advent calendar tradition- my favorite part, the part that has the magic and the staying power for me as a mama looking back over the years.  Beginning that first year, when she was still so little, I'd ask her to tell me something that she was grateful for, thankful for, something that made her happy.  And then I'd write it on the back of the slip of paper and clip the paper atop the pocket from that day (which made it easier for her younger self to find which day came next).  Over the years (6!) since I first made this humble little advent calendar, I've kept all of those little slips of paper and I am not sure I have the words to describe how very much I love looking back over the gratitudes on the backs of those little slips of paper.  From that first year :"the cheepy sounds the birds make", and "gorillas".  From the past few years there have been all sorts of favorites ranging from "warm, snuggly mama" to "Ollie" (our handsome grey feline), "the land, the planet", "the air we breathe", "our good, happy life "our town, and our walk to town today" and so on.  They don't look like much, just colorful little scraps, sometimes bent up and crushed a bit.  But they're like magic to this mama's heart.

The things I write daily for the calendar- they aren't grand gestures.  Sure, there are a few pretty special ones each year like going to the Nutcracker and getting our tree and things like that.  But so many of those slips are filled with the simplest of suggestions for things that, honestly, we often do anyway.  They're just dressed up a bit for the advent calendar, is all.  Drawn from a little colorful pocket, they become special and are promoted to an almost ritual-like status. The joy that she gleans from these simplest of things shows me that, simply by being mindful and deliberate in how we go about our days, we can elevate our experiences and enjoy them even more- even if only because we decide that we will.  There is power in that, I think.  Power, and peace and hope.

Here are some of my favorite advent calendar suggestions:

*cut paper snowflakes
*set up our advent spiral
*make swags, garland, wreaths (bring some to neighbors and friends)
*string pinecones and orange slices for decorations
*bake cookies (deliver some to the library, to friends, to family)
*bring a box of groceries or other needed items to the local food pantry (truly, straight up money is probably the most helpful there as they can likely stretch it further than we can in purchasing)
*make treats for the birds (we often do this on the solstice)
*hike to 'Gary's Tree' and add a decoration, bring hot cocoa and a book with us (this is a random tree just off the path on one of our favorite local trails that folks have been decorating for years)
*go to the town Christmas parade
*get our tree
*decorate it (of course)
*hot cocoa with breakfast
*library trip for wintry books
*walk to town for hot cocoa
*candlelit solstice dinner
*bonfires
*crafting with friends (making cards, bird treats, ornaments, anything!)
*visiting with friends and family
*go see The Nutcracker
*plant narcissus bulbs
*watch a movie together
*make gifts for friends
*caroling party at a dear friend's house


There are endless options, really.  You can make just about anything feel special and meaningful with a little bit of time and intention.  And the added magic of pulling it out of a taped together pocket of bright construction paper, of course.

Cheers to you and yours this holiday season!

Here are links to some holiday posts from years past:
Winter 2016
Thanksgiving to Advent, 2015
Joy and Cheer 2014 
Advent Activities 2014 

thirty eight

Every year on my birthday, for about the last decade, I've composed a list of things that I am grateful for.  Things I say a big 'YES!' to, things I want more of in my world.  A list of things equaling the number of years old that I am.  I aim not to think on any of it too much, but rather create a list of what first comes to mind, and surely the list includes thing big and things small.  I don't look back on previous lists until after writing the new one, but of course there are lots of repeats year to year.  And so, as today I complete my 38th trip around the sun and say hello to my 39th year on this amazing spinning orb of blue and green and other colors, I hereby present my annual gratitude list:

:: my daughter, for being such a wise teacher and a powerful mirror

:: my love- for all of the things

:: slippers

:: fire

:: birdsong in the mornings, cricket serenade at night

:: my garden

:: two jobs I enjoy immensely

:: my healthy, strong, and generally in-good-working-condition body

:: the excitement and anticipation of looking forward to our big trip next summer

:: Pandora (I know there are other options, but I'm sticking with it) - favorite stations being St. Paul & the Broken Bones and Van Morrison and Billie Holiday (and others). And while we're on music let me just add Rising Appalachia to the list.

:: listening to her practice the piano- particularly certain chord progressions, 'Let it Be', and John Denver's 'Country Roads'

:: the silky smooth and forever loyal & loving (and vocal) Ollie cat- the handsomest little grey lion that ever was

:: the option to homeschool, and the time I therefore get to spend with my brave and growing girl

:: all the same, that blissful 5 days solo recently (!)

:: tea.  preferably strong and black with a drizzle of honey and coconut milk

:: sunshine on my shoulders

:: soft, grey days

:: my favorite plants (and all the other plants as well)

:: yoga

:: salty ocean air, and the opportunity, typically, to visit it at least a couple times a year

:: living in a walkable town

:: (yet dreaming of finding that right patch of land)

:: kindness

:: honesty

:: books. BOOKS!

:: so......um, yeah..........Poldark. (the BBC show- the newer, current version) What can I say? I just really, really care about the plight of the 18th century Cornish copper miners.  That and the scenery is amazing. *ahem*

:: creative outlets, and the occasional (too occasional, so....working on that) tendency to get lost in them

:: a good, dry, hard cider

:: my friends~ they are lovely and dependable and true and good

:: the biannual handmade/homegrown swap gatherings that I host, and the amazing community of women who are a part of that

:: big dreams

:: laundry on a clothesline

:: waking to an empty kitchen sink and a clean counter

:: a sizable herbal tea stash from our very own garden

:: my family- the ones who created me, raised me, grew up beside me..... those who became family through marriage, and the close friends who have practically become siblings.

:: the great good luck of finding myself in a time and a place with resources enough to live the life I want to live

:: our local library

:: community




because it's fun to look back, here's last year's list 

(I just peeked- it was a good list- and there are loads of photos from the year.  no loads of photos this year. maybe soon, but right now I'm off to have some dessert)

mamas need camp, too

This summer I expanded a bit from just offering the one weeklong girls' camp that I've been doing for three years and hosted several days of 4-5 year old day camp and two days of 'Mama Camp'.  The kid camps were great and several little buddies of mine had lots of fun learning about chickens and compost and tasting all the different herbs in the garden and making tea and doing all sorts of art.  But mama camp?  Oh my goodness.


Twice in the last few weeks a dozen women (mostly a different dozen each time, but a few lovelies came both times) have come together at my place (some I hadn't even met until they bravely parked in my driveway and walked up the front steps to introduce themselves) to make and craft and brew and chat and eat and connect with each other for a stretch of about four hours or so.  It has been a blissful thing.  The first time around I wasn't sure I knew just what my role would be- yes, I organized it and ordered all the materials and put it together and invited folks, but 'teacher'? Hmmm....... I'm used to that when I've got a group of kiddos around, but a group of my peers?  It is true that several folks were coming to learn something, as these things that I feel are second-nature are not necessarily the average skill set of the 30-something and 40-something crowd in 2018.  I realize not everyone is going around asking for neighbors' permission to tap their sugar maples and foraging for mushrooms on the roadsides and kegging kombucha and rendering backyard beeswax.  And such.  We all have things that we come accustomed to making and doing and sometimes all we need is a little nudge to expand into a different space.  (now I'm rambling.  and also thinking of all the things I want to do but need a nudge to do....)


As much as I wasn't sure how I'd carry out the actual 'event' that first go around, it came together beautifully and was just such a lovely time.  Truly, I think all the mamas would have probably been thrilled just to be together with a dozen other mamas without all of our kiddos in tow.  That rare chance to completely remove our 'mama hats' and relax and exhale into adult company and camaraderie for a good stretch of time.  The fun stuff we made together was the icing on the cake.  A great big collectively made party favor, if you will.  And did we ever make!  We made a lot.  Indigo-dyed tea towels, sauerkraut, deodorant, body butter, tinctures, two kinds of herbal teas, indigo-dyed pillow cases, healing herbal salve, insect repellent, beeswax food wraps, a flavored secondary-fermentation kombucha, herb-infused facial oils...... whew!  That is a lot of stuff to make but we pulled it off, and all while connecting and learning from one another and enjoying delicious food and drink.  Good, good stuff.  Soul food, I believe.

mothering :: eight years in

eight.

there's a big shift happening these days.  I watch as she stretches into new territory, trying on different  things, seeing how they suit her.  different angles, different outlooks, different boundaries, different questions.  different ideas.  mostly, I still see her as my little girl. (because dolls and snuggles and the strategic and sometimes hours-long staging of calico critters and such- though I am saddened to say this is the year she has realized that not everyone wears a bonnet as their primary summer hat and she has requested we get something different.  ouch.  am I so naive to have thought she'd perhaps never come to that realization?)



now, if you'll please excuse me and allow me the much-needed nostalgia of staring at and sharing this photo from three summers ago:

sigh.

so~ as I was saying.  mostly she still feels very much like my little girl.  but oh, there are hints of the adolescent within, and of the woman she will become.  funny how with each new phase I find myself mourning the passing torch less than I would have anticipated (the whole bonnet thing aside, maybe).  I suppose the fact that each stage comes with its own conveniently packaged bundle of new! exciting! things! helps to ease the transition and take a bit of the sting out of the inevitable bittersweetness.


we've had some tender moments lately when she has asked questions that I know made her squirm a bit- me, thinking my way through answering in the right way- which really, is any way that lets her know it is ok to ask me anything anytime.  reassuring her that we all fret that we are oddballs sometimes and that truly, really, we kind of all are so it is just fine.  more than fine.  in an effort to illustrate just how very normal all of this is I tell her embarrassing and awkward stories from my childhood (and sometimes my adulthood, because let's face it, it isn't as if the amount of awkward stories really took all that sizable a plunge after childhood...).  she usually gets a kick out of them.  and in funny little ways it glues us even closer together.

I am her mama.  but also her friend.  her guide.  and, of course, sometimes I am her student.  actually change that from sometimes to often.  I cringe a bit to admit how very often I find myself learning quite a lot about myself and how I am not, it turns out, as patient and laid back as I like to think I am.  I do think that parenting tends to highlight at times that side in all of us, but ooph-  sometimes I'd rather not see it so often.  sometimes I feel like I'm done learning about myself for a while now, thankyouverymuch.

but here we are, approaching the middle of her eight-year-old-summer.  as I am currently hosting my annual weeklong girls' garden and art camp this week, I find myself observing a whole gaggle of little girls in their 7th-9th summer and I must say, I do think that this 7-9 stretch may just be the glory days of childhood.

in the garden :: green and growing and blooming

Here I find myself again, in that sweet time when I begin to spend as much time outside as in, with sunshine on my shoulders and soil under my fingernails.  That first day always stands out- there I am with the warm sun on my face, called to linger in the garden for a while instead of hurrying back in to sit by the fire with my tea.  And then the days quietly begin to pile on top of one another and I find myself so often in the garden with a bucket in one hand and a blade in the other and after a bit of time passes I am surprised by the fact that it is indeed 'full-on spring' again.  Such an anticipated sliver of time, so pregnant with promise and possibility.

The older I get, the more I've come to sincerely appreciate and even love winter.  The stillness, the pause, the inward-ness of it all.  These things and more so appeal to my reflective, quiet side.  But there's no denying the allure of spring.  And when, after several weeks of tug-of-war with winter spring has decided to finally stay for a while, well that's just grand with me.  And so I go sit outside and turn my face to the sun and just sit, soaking it in.  I feel like a reptile, or a finicky old cat in a sunbeam.  There is something so animalistic about wanting, needing that warmth.  I wonder if maybe it has to do with our heating exclusively with wood- which can mean it's a bit cold around here at times..... do people who are accustomed to more climate controlled surroundings feel so called to turn their faces towards the sun for long stretches at spring's arrival?  Maybe I am just a finicky old cat, who knows.  Maybe it's something else.

At any rate, here we are.  Spring.  Full-on spring.  The peas are flowering, the garlic is up to my thighs.  Squashes and beans are about 6 inches high and the greens are thriving.  I've picked my first couple backyard bouquets of the year, we're getting a bowlful of strawberries daily, and I've got my eyes on so many flowers that are thisclose to bursting into bloom.  The raspberries and blackberries and blueberries are covered with flowers and there are quite a few tiny fruits on the apple trees (and a few, but just a few, on the pear tree).  I am so ready for it.  For this.  What a gift to be able to tend a patch of soil and coax all this goodness from it.

love, love, love, love, crazy love

Claire came to me recently with a 'confession' of sorts.  "Mama, I maybe wrote on my wall.  You know the part by the closet?  I wrote on it.  But it was so so tiny and it was with pencil, and......"

I assured her I had no problem with it.  And I think she even knew it was Van Morrison, so..... that's kind of a win in and of itself, I'd say.

We head south tomorrow~ first to the beach to set up camp with some friends, then two days down to Florida to visit my grandmother in her new assisted living facility (I've not seen her since Claire and I took a trip down together before she moved into assisted living about a year and a half ago- if I'm completely honest with myself, the reason I've yet to go is that I've been selfishly steeling my heart for the visit and the very likely possibility that she won't know me anymore..... deep breath.), arm then back to camp at the beach for a couple more days before returning home.  I'm excited and anxious about the visit with my grandma, my Mamau, but I know that salty ocean air will help carry me through.

eight is great

a little get together with a few close friends (blueberry muffins and ice cream for dessert, as per her request) a couple days before and then on her birthday- waking to a house full of decorations, pancakes for breakfast, a trip to the serpentarium, an attempt at bicycle shopping, ice cream for lunch, a movie in the afternoon, and spaghetti & meatballs for dinner.  her favorite gift of all was a quill and ink set from a good buddy.

hello, 8.