Happy Birthday, Little Bear!

Gibbie's birthday, clearly, was a big big event in our house. Ezra, throughout the day, sings to himself, "Happy Birthday, dear Little Bear..." (see "the show" for the reference.) We also had a special birthday visit from our dear Grammers, pictured above.
And here is Gibbie, showing off the new light he received as a much-appreciated gift from his Grandpa Bill. He is planning to use it to "look for the dark slugs in my garden, at night." With a few tantalizing garden gifts, plans for the garden are kicking into high gear. I'm putting together my seed order. Gibbie is planning a garden of his own. It will be, according to plan thus far, a new garden, in the grass, with logs around it, painted black. He has made signs to label his plants and four useful warning signs which each read, "no dogs out loud." So much fun.

Twa bonnie wee Ring Bearers

Here are some more pictures of our bonnie lads. In our dear friends' wedding this past December. Remember all those kilts we made? This was the occasion: the marriage of our dearest, and one of my longest-standing friends, Pat. Or Uncle Otter, or Patter, as the kids call him. Paul was the best man and they entrusted our bairns with the rings.
But losh, man! Dinna they leuk fine?




Ezra looked as if he were'nt going to venture up the aisle. Gibbie had set himself to it. But at the last minute, a tear still tracking down his cheek, I put a ring in Ezra's little fist and his other hand in Gibbie's, and they walked right up, with all those eyes on them! Ezra had a whole outfit, but he has some sort of internal promise he's made never to wear a vest, and enough tears were shed over putting on the kilt, I was happy just that he was wearing the kilt, socks, shoes, and any shirt. Angela, the lovely bride, understandably requested that he wear a shirt, if possible. If you look closely in the picture of Ezra and Gibbie starting down the aisle, you can see the glimmer of the ring in his hand. After the ceremony, Ezra offered no objections to any of his clothing, and played like a broonie.


(Gibbie's cooperation and spirited enthusiasm is fitting, as he is named after Sir Gilbert Galbraith, the sometime broonie, sometime hero of a highland romance writ by our beloved George MacDonald, one of the very first books my beloved and I read together! A good man will go to the trouble of learning to speak a brogue to read a book with the woman he loves!)
Gibbie, who was sooo happy about his outfit and his role in the day, "I just can't wait for the wedding, Mama. I'm so exciting for it!" just "danced his heart out" for the rest of the night.

Birthday Soup

For Gibbie's Fourth birthday, he decided to put on a show of the story "Birthday Soup" from the book
Little Bear by Elsie Homelund Minarek (illustrated by Maurice Sendak). He spent a lot of time thinking about the details of the performance (curtains, costumes, etc.) and working on his lines.

Here's the final product, recorded live at his birthday party:

Not-Puddle-Boots

"I'm going to get on my not-puddle-boots. I think that's what they call these boots-- not-puddle-boots. And the last name is cowboy boots. Boots are like people; they have second names." -Gibbie, Oct 8, 2008

Gibbie on Pairs

At dinner, we were talking about how Gibbie and Ezra play and play together and how much they love each other. I said, "you guys are really a pair, aren't you?"
Gibbie responded, "yeah, and you and Papa play well together too."
We laughed and said, "we are a pair too, aren't we?"
"Always together and never go apart!" Gibbie summed it up.

That's really what marriage is, isn't it?
I love you, Paul.

Name That Plant

At Purlieu, I went back and forth between the forest and my stack of guide books. We made a last minute stop at the big library on our way out of town, which cost us a parking ticket. It was worth it. I got a stack of field guides. They were invaluable in helping me learn more about our land and its inhabitants. I was amazed how many times I had to recheck my theory on a plant I'd found before I could correctly identify it.
None of these are uncommon plants at all, and I think of myself as pretty well-versed in the local forest for a city girl. This just shows how out of touch I am with the world around me; I've been coming to this land since I was a kid, and never noticed these plants, which are abundant on our land, until this trip. I had no idea what they were.
Looking them up was a fun little puzzle to solve, counting petals and looking in different sections of the books, smelling and tasting parts of the plant until I had found out who it was.
It's fascinating, learning not only the name, but how each little one works, how it spreads, what people have used and enjoyed them for.
Gibbie got so used to me dropping to the ground in amazement that he would spontaneously do it too--"look at this!" he would say, "it's a cerota." Nodding seriously, "It makes water in it's leaves." I love that he does this. He's thinking about how we interpret nature, and joining right in. Soon enough knowledge and experiences with the plants will catch up with desire to participate. I'll bet to him a lot of what I say sounds just crazy, and often he can't see a thing that's being pointed out to him, like the wild turkeys out the car window, or the skunk he just missed when walking with Papa in the garden.
What I really love is that this little person of but three years has already learned so much. Many different plants he can identify in various seasons, though they look quite different, and he has a lot of favorite little flowers and leaves he can find to nibble on.
Or, pointing out into the forest, "Did you see that? It's a deercat. Right there, in that tree." He also spotted the rare leafcat. "It eats leaves."
Notes on the plants: the two photos of the pink and white ones are not of the same flowers. The flower in the first photo, seems to grow just one flower each, and the stems and low leaves are remarkably soft, covered in downy fur. The second photo features similar flowers, but as you can see, there is a small cluster of them, and a pair of leaves with parallel veins.
The top flowers, the white and purple ones, do very well if transplanted into a garden, where in the loose, fertile soil they grow to giant versions of their forest selves.
The fourth photo, with the white-veined leaves, the leaves are rather thick, almost leathery. The last picture the drying up berries, are growing on a short, pretty tree. These also grow in the city. I guess the birds don't like them much, since they still have lots of berries now in the spring. I have so much to learn!

MaryLand

We're going to a place called
MaryLand.
Cause Mary's there.
It's lots of fun there.
There's no toys there,
cause there's no kids,
but it's very pretty.
See? Look at all those
birds!
- Gabriel Isaiah Johnson

The Sleepy Bumble Bee

Out at the cabin, picking and smelling daffodils, we found a little sleeper inside of a flower.
Gibbie had picked the flower, so we put it in a cup on the picnic table. It had been nice and warm, and then we had a few days of rain; I think it was too cold for him. He stayed resting there for several chilly days, until it warmed up, and he woke and flew away.
Now Gibbie checks all the tulips for bees.
We've only got about five that produced flowers in our garden this year, due to squirrels and enthusiastic neighborhood children, but with each new flower, Gibbie asks, "Mama, why is there not a bee in this flower?"

Dude, Lighten up.

This is my son, "all covered up." He likes to pull his hat, made by his cousin Oakley as a Christmas present for him, over his face so that he doesn't get cold when he goes outside.
You can see Ezra in the background with a bottle. We sometimes give a bottle of something icy to help with teething pain. It helps a lot! He's just now actually learned how to suck on a bottle.

These pictures are from a while ago, but they go with the thought I've had that I need to, that I have the freedom to, lighten up. As much as I long to learn to keep this home simple and beautiful and running flawlessly and enjoy it all, I've realized that many wonderful people have messy houses, just like me. I'm learning to keep up with the housework, to be more organized and whatnot, but it's okay to not be there yet. Better women than I, whom I've met, have piles of things lying around also, and aren't embarrassed about it! This is the way real people live. In some families, moderate messiness is taken as a great taboo, a sign of sloth, but it doesn't have to be that way; messiness can be the symptom also of a healthy family with its priorities in order. People are valued, and they are caring for one another, doing things, living life, full of color and it may leave remnants around the house. Take them as evidence of life lived well.

There is a glorious freedom for us. I'm not talking about flying flags, but the unparalleled liberty of the children of God. There is a liberty like springtime, like the taking off of layers after a long winter. In laying aside even our own agendas, entrusting myself to him, giving in to whatever that might mean, and then finding that he has planned not some grueling march, but a great adventure begun with a long seaside vacation.

Little Cabin in the Woods

Wow! It's cold! We made these back before Christmas. They were also photographed back then, and have long since now been eaten all up! I just baked loaves of gingerbread. (the dark, spicy kind; nothing like cutout cookies.) My recipe is a modification of the one in Laurie Colwin's Home Cooking, which would make a nice quick winter read.
We just cut the loaf into thirds, and sliced off a few edges to make houses. This way, there was no trying to use frosting to glue together crumbly or cracking cookies together-- what an exercise in frustration that would be for little kids! This way is also quick for littles with short attention spans.
Anyway, frost and decorate with whatever's on hand. Ever seen those "natural" food colorings in pretty bottles at the co-op? Just a word to the wise; they alter the flavors of the frosting. Makes sense, I suppose. Just be warned. I think this pinkish-one tastes a bit beet-ey.
Today, Gibbie crawls into the kitchen: "Mama, I'm a woodchuck! I'm gonna bury this bean! Mama, it's turning to spring, and do you know what woodchucks do in the spring? They turn into COWS!"
Later, in the bedroom, the cow morphed into a penguin. Betcha didn't know that cows turn into penguins when they grow up, huh? I think he might have picked up on my habit of piecing together bits of information gleaned from I've-forgotten-whence and authoritatively dispensing semi-factual information. I don't mean to do it. I intend to always tell him when I don't know the answer to a question, but what can I say?
I think a lot of real things also just seem incredible, as in not quite believable. Like, caterpillars turn into butterflies? Water and ice are the same thing? Rabbits change color in the winter? No way!
Or the circus? We just read a book about a circus, and after I closed it, Gibbie looked at me and said, "that's just pretend, Mama." I explained that there really are circuses; they are big shows, with lots of people doing tricks with costumes and animals like elephants to ride on, and they have the show in a big tent, and people come to see it.. yada, yada, yada...
Gibbie totally didn't buy it. "But it's not [real] outside of the book." Sensible kid.

Stay warm inside your own little cabin!

Gibbie says.... on teachers

These are candles we decorated and gave as gifts to two of Gibbie's teachers. Gibbie mildly enjoyed sticking the wax on the candles. Breifly. He would have had more fun with this one had I held less of an agenda; i.e., I really wanted to be the one to decorate them, my way, not his. Next time we'll do free-form fun candles!

So today he came up with this:
I have two teachers. A lot of people have just one teacher, but I have two teachers.
Treehorn in the Shrinking of Treehorn, (really weird book that Gibbie and Paul love) he has one teacher. But I have two.
That's my favorite.

Alas, two of his teachers we have grown to love will be working elsewhere next semester! We will miss them so much!
Merry Christmas! Be warm and joyful!

Gibbie Says...II

Whispering, "Ezra, you are a very special little boy that no one can see."
I'm not sure if this was a sweet little nothing, or wishful thinking. Hmmm... or perhaps shades of Francis' friend Alice? (Please read A Birthday For Francis if that didn't make any sense.)