weekend - bundle up

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

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

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

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

#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