39 years, 39 things

Well hello.  It's been a good long while since I've spent any time in this space.  I'm spending way less time with my (big) camera these days, less time on the computer.  And it shows here.  I've got over a thousand photos on my phone and a few hundred on my camera from our epic 7 week road trip this summer, and I hope to share some of that here, soon.  If nothing else, I know I want to continue using this space as a photo journal of our days, an easy and visual way to catalog and honor the highlights from our little world.

For right now, though, I'm here to compose and share my annual birthday gratitude list~ something I several years ago and always look forward to.  A way to mindfully notice the things (and people) in my life that I am most grateful for.  The things (and people) that I want more of in the world, that I say a resounding 'YES!' to.

So without further ado,  my 39 things:

*slow, easy mornings

*my morning tea

*plants (this is an understatement and a bit vague.... I've got my favorites of course- tulsi, calendula, maple, oak, ferns, mint, lemon verbena, larkspur and peony, and so on.)

*birdsong

*hearing the train whistle as it wraps around the valley, especially at night

*the neighborhood screech owls calling to one another at night as the weather cools

*that magic dancing liquid light of early morning and late afternoon

*the way she still, for now, fits so well in my lap and in my arms

*our incredible summer road trip- 50 days, 11,000 miles (!), the three of us in our van camping and exploring our way all across this big and beautiful country.  What an immense gift.

*the time and space and energy to farm our little yard as much as we can with flowers and vegetables and herbs and fruit, and the therapy and meditative satisfaction I get from doing so

*our sweet Ollie cat

*that we are able to homeschool, and for the freedom and time and space and flexibility that doing so affords us as a family

*composting

*books. particularly novels. particularly, (it would seem from my favorites) historical fiction and magical realism that isn't too fantastic.

*my slippers

*listening to her practice the piano, and music in general

*my job(s) that I love- teaching after school art, part-time seasonal farm work, a bit of writing...

*salty ocean air

*waterfalls (the best church there is, in my opinion)

*bubbly and tasty and fizzy homemade kombucha

*all the fermented foods

*the community of women that come together to make magic twice a year at my swaps

*the great good luck of having been born in a time and a place with clean water and good medicine and public sanitation, where I am safe, secure, and not in the midst of famine or civil war or immediate danger

*the amazing generation of young and ingenuitive climate activists fighting and stirring folks up in a great effort to address the very real and very clear and dire state of things on a global ecological scale

*and their peers who are fighting for common sense gun laws, teenagers who are tired of seeing their classmates murdered; trying to shout loudly enough over the lobbyists to have legislators and everyone acknowledge that the public at large have no need (or right) to possess weapons of war and that bulletproof backpacks is a pretty awful and ridiculous solution

*yoga

*the forest

*having been among the giant sequoias with my loves this summer

*the tidal pools behind the sea stacks along the shore at Olympic National Park

*all the southern Utah back roads

*the US National Forest Service's dispersed camping opportunities

*my main squeeze, for everything.

*my family~ that which I was born into, married into, and the friends who have become family

*The big and bittersweet honor of watching my girl as she very slowly crests her little-girlhood and starts to turn toward adolescence.  There is much little girl about her yet, but I can sense we are on the cusp of big things.  I've seen that for a long while now.

*the way I accept more about myself as each year passes

*that particular hike in North Cascades NP, the most beautiful hike of my life so far

*our woodstove

*home

*good food


Ah.  I enjoyed that.  I never peek at previous lists before making these, though obviously there's always sure to be a good bit of overlap from year to year.  Below I'll link the lists from previous years, in case you've got any interest in checking them out.

38

37 (so many good photos in this one- food, farm, camping, total solar eclipse, birthday campout, the sea, our trip up to the Adirondacks....)

36 (this one has links to all the previous years as well)

cheers from here~

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)

around here :: flying solo

My people recently went north without me for five days (!), and all I have to show for it is this photo that I took one morning of flowers and tea dappled in sunlight just as I was starting some yoga on the porch.  Reason being, I have finally succumbed to the siren song of the smartphone (took me a few minutes to climb on board) and I am both amazed at what good photos my iPhone takes and also, I now totally understand what folks have meant these last several years when lamenting that Instagram 'ate their blog'.  Now I see.  Instagram is indeed a pretty place to spend some time, and a most convenient place to share snippets with your people.  So, that's where I've been doing just that.  I do want to share a bit in this space as well though, as I love the idea of having this chronicle of our days and hope to someday come back to reread all the bits and pieces of our days as a young(ish) family of three.  Et cetera.

So.  Five days.  Solo.  Not something that happens often in my world.  This would make the third time I've had the house to myself for an extended period of time since entering the wild world of motherhood about 8 and three-quarters years ago.  So, how did I choose to fill my five days?


Well, there was no homeschooling, obviously.  So instead I filled the weekday mornings before teaching afterschool art class with time spent in the garden, doing yoga, reading, getting a massage.... those sorts of things.  One of my strengths is that I am good at self care.  Yes indeed.  I have a loner streak a mile wide and while I adore and love my people, I also know that I thrive when given ample time to myself to fill my cup in whatever way I need at the time.  There was a solo dinner out.  Sushi and sake and such.  A long walk to and around town.  On the equinox I cooked myself a special dinner made with all local ingredients and went ahead with our traditional beginning-of-a-new-season bonfire.  I watched a movie.  I cleaned.  I had girlfriends over for a little ladies' night.  And on the morning of the day that they were driving their long way home to me, I tackled a long hike that I've wanted to try for years.  I drove a few miles up the road to the trailhead and hiked up a mountain and along the ridge, down another mountain, and looped back to my car.  It was about 9.5 miles all together and it was great.  That was yesterday morning, and despite the yoga class I took shortly after the hike and the time spent in the sauna, I am most definitely feeling it.  In all the good, best ways.


So there's that.  That's what I've been up to.  And I know there is a way I can get the photos from my phone on here, and I know I can connect all the things to make it all sync and whatnot, but......well....... I'm slow to come around when it comes to these things.  All in due time.  In the meantime, feel free to come hang out with me on Instagram if you so desire.  My Instagram 'handle' is amanda.w.riley.

happy autumn, folks.

Colonial Williamsburg

I think it is safe to say that I'd have been happy to wander the brick and cobblestone sidewalks and streets of Colonial Williamsburg for many more days, camera in hand, searching out little pockets of light and old, storied things to photograph.

On our way up to the Eastern Shore of Maryland for a family wedding last week, we decided a weekend stop in Colonial Williamsburg was called for.  What with the bonnets and the horses and the gardens and the old well-worn things full of history and other people's stories, it is most certainly right up my alley.  Right up the alleys of all three of us, truly.  Last Saturday evening, we checked in to the most budget-friendly of the Colonial Williamsburg-owned hotels and walked into the historic district after everything had closed up for the day.  It was quieter than it'd have been earlier.  Cooler, certainly.  We peeked in at the cooper's shop and walked through the gardens of the governor's palace.  We fed handfuls of grass to the oxen and we peered into shop windows and made plans for the following day.  We had an amazing meal at the Amber Ox and then, nighttime hotel pool swimming.  Because hotel pool.

Sunday morning, after a breakfast enjoyed outside (we dragged the chairs from the room outside and set them up on the sidewalk- super classy) and creatively put together from things scrounged from the cooler and the hotel's offerings (with me of course going back and forth grabbing different jars and things from the car to use for food acquisition in the hotel lobby- so as to avoid as much plastic as possible- because I do little things like that all the time that maybe drive my people nuts), we set out on foot to explore all that the historic district had to offer.  And then we did the same thing the following morning, heading north around lunchtime on Monday.  We walked and walked and walked.  We quickly realized we each had our own favorites- Claire would have been happy to spin and weave and feed grass to the oxen the entire time, while papa was keen on talking saws and cuts with the carpenters and outdoor brick oven plans with the baker.  Me, I mostly wanted to take photos and look at all of the gardens and touch all of the horses.  It became evident in no time that we all three have a strong preference for learning about and seeing the homes and workshops of the tradespeople and not the gentry.  I really wasn't impressed by the silver cup that king so and so had touched, but I was mighty captivated by the rough linen towels blowing in the breeze and the strong ink-stained hands of the printer and the smell of garlic and camphor in the apothecary.  The oyster shell paths in the gardens, the creative trellising and companion planting.  Oh yes please.

We took a house tour of one of the grander homes- a home owned by Robert Carter, a cousin of Thomas Jefferson's and an important man back in the day of the Continental Congress.  Indeed, his home was grand.  The tour guide lost me though when he started going on about how slaves during that time had it pretty good.  That it showed one's wealth if their slaves were well-dressed, well-fed, and even, because apparently it was never illegal for slaves to read and write in Virginia, literate.  He said they (the enslaved) likely looked down from the grand windows of the grand home and saw the poorer white men in the square and felt sorry for them.  Well.  I did that thing where you kind of simultaneously snort and laugh out of your nose in disbelief- what is that called?  Anyway- whatever it is called- I did that.  And I said something like "Really? You really think so? I bet they weren't very happy with not being free...."  He carried on without missing a beat and I noticed when he brought up the slaves again later he did so with what I thought was a bit more tact.  I honestly think he was just trying to illustrate that they weren't 'treated badly' (obviously this is relative here) in this home- trying to illustrate the 'goodness' of this man while still acknowledging the obvious fact that slavery was a very bad and very horrendous thing.  I don't know though- I can't really abide by that "well, so and so, he treated his slaves really well.........slavery was a 'peculiar institution" sort of talk.  In my book, I think if one finds oneself in the business of buying and selling PEOPLE, then they (the buyers/sellers) can't really be categorized as 'good people'.  Ugh.  I'd have been all sorts of mixed up if I lived in Williamsburg in the 1700s.  Happy to walk the oyster shell paths and hang all that linen to dry and cook over a fire, yet dodging the corsets and stays and wigs and all the other finer things as best I could.  With my heart heavy as lead in my chest with the awareness of how many of my darker-skinned neighbors were being treated.  Come to think of it, in a lot of ways that sort of describes the me of today.

Moving on.

What we really wanted to see in the Robert Carter house was the kitchen and the outbuildings and by the time we finished with the house the outbuildings were closed and that was when were realized we really just wanted to see the trade shops and the rougher bits.  Not that I can't appreciate fancy imported wallpaper and elaborate interior decor, but... well...... the blacksmith is a bit more my speed.

So we spent the rest of our time peeking over garden gates and talking to the cooks and the blacksmiths and the gardeners.  Papa talked shop with the carpenters and Claire and I rolled up our pant legs and stomped barefoot through the mud pit at the brickyard, laughing and yelping our way through it.  She played Elizabeth Cotten's 'Freight Train' on the harpsichord at the furniture makers' shop and we watched the firing of the noon cannon and listened to the fife and drums corp marching and playing across the big village green.  It was a pretty splendid weekend, really.

Many times as we wandered the streets I thought how, if I could choose a superpower, it'd be the power to look back into time.  Time travel, I suppose- though I wouldn't necessarily want to be visible or involved during my journeys.  I feel this way often when we are in places with centuries of amassed stories spanning several generations.  Maybe this is why historical fiction is my favorite genre when it comes to books.

Home now, though.  Where I can don my apron and hang my clothes on the line and heat our home with wood and tend my garden and dry and preserve each season's offerings at whatever pace I want to, if I choose to.  And then come in and enjoy the running water and the (mostly) reliable electricity and the fact that should all that preserving and gardening fall to the side for whatever reason, well...... there are about 4 grocery stores within a few miles of me and I can drive my car to any of them in a few minutes.  Ah, progress.