A loan of perspective

It’s a cloudy, rainy, chilly June morning*.  I'm wearing a wool sweater dress.  The past few weeks have been in the 80's – shorts and tanktops and popsicles.  And I'm so grateful.  Because the past week we have been enveloped in smoke from the wildfires raging in our state.  Low visibility, high-risk for elders and children.  We half seriously talked about flying my pregnant self to visit family until the smoke clears.  And today it rains!  May all the fires be quenched.

I spent the morning at the table ... ok, so it was the early afternoon.  I mean, if we're going to be honest, I slept through most of the morning.  I spent the early afternoon at the table with a cup of coffee (half caf!) and a book.  I've always been a voracious reader.  The weekly trip to the library was one of the highlights of my life as a child.  In middle school I read through the entire – and I mean entire! – YA section at the library, priding myself on reading a novel a day.  I could read more than one on weekends and school vacations.  I have piles and piles of "to-read" books in the house.  Most of them focused on yoga, spirituality, wellness. And novels.  Those too.  I'm booming business for the used book store.

But of late, I've re-discovered the library.  In college, the library was a tool.  A beloved tool.  But a tool rather than a place of sanctuary and timeless enjoyment. A place to research concepts, find sources for papers. And for the last few years I haven't used the library – University or local – very much at all. Until recently.

Recently I've moved away from gorging my brain on a continuous input of other people's perspective on yoga and towards gorging my brain on other people's perspectives on raising children.  Neither are practices that should rely on outside perspective.  And I rather think that I don't (or won't)... in either case.  But outside perspective can do a lot to form opinion, to educate and to inspire. I've always been one to read widely on any topic that I approach. And so I've been reading umpteen books on pregnancy and birthing and mother-wellness – these from my mother's home library (she being a midwife who will be opening a private practice) – and alternating them with books on raising resourceful kids, on unschooling, on homeschooling, on how children learn, on mindful parenting.  I read in one genre until it seems that all the authors are repeating themselves, and then I switch genres until the same thing happens again, and I switch back.  Occasionally I mix it up with a novel.

I guess its my way of nesting...  just as, if not more, important for my mental and emotional movement towards motherhood than the physical preparation work around the house or the entrepreneurial restructuring of my livelihood. 

And so I'm grateful for the library.  I've no doubt that over the years a handful of parenting and home schooling perspective will find their way permanently onto my shelves.  But for the time being, I am grateful.  So grateful to the public library.  For a being a haven in the middle of a long day in town, and for providing the precious free gift of a loan of perspective.

*written last Friday

In the garden: June 25

Joining in with SouleMama for a tour of what is growing and thriving and green:

You will notice that I just discovered an app that lets me
write on photos!

The garden this year is still small, but its growing food (and flowers)!  It is a nice change, this year, to actually be home this year - instead of away at Yoga School - through the heart of the summer.  Wildfire smoke notwithstanding.

Fireweed, calendula, and baby sunflowers

You can't see it in this photo, but there's parsley here, just about ready for a trimming that will be the first harvest from the garden!

This is what I'm probably most excited about!  I planted a couple dozen strawberry plants last year, and was so good about pinching off all the flowers, so that the plant's energy could go into root growth.  And it worked!  16 of them came back this year, and a couple are sending out runners.  Many had an abundance of delicate white flowers, and are now showing promise of a handful of fruit!

My dear friends over at Maple&Me gave me starts of a Siberian tomato from local heirloom seed folks at Pingo Farms. 
I planted these two out in the garden, and the rest in pots on the upstairs (sunny! warm(er)!) porch:

We shall see, but so far, the garden planted tomatoes seem happier and more robust and vigorous.  Which totally disproves my hypothesis that they would be happier in containers on the porch.  Isn't science fun??  The real test, of course will be in another year or three when we get the greenhouse built!


P.S.  All photos were taken at 10 pm last night.  Three cheers for the Solstice sunlight that penetrates through the thickest smoke!

Introducing the fence...

With wildfires raging all over Alaska, and one (now said to be contained) scarily close to us, I'm appreciating in a really acute way the things that we do have. Like this fence. 

Meet the fence.

The fence that finally kept one intrepid escape artist...

...inside of its bounds with her species-compatible compatriots.  You will also notice the bear skull she found and buried in the strawberry bed one time when she got out.  We found out last night that in her escapades (pre-fence re-construction) recently, she made off with two of the neighbor's roosters.  How she managed to come home without blood or a single feather, the picture of canine innocence, we are not quite sure.

The Darlin'Man went over last night to talk to the neighbors about the fire (I've yet to meet them!); and later went back over with reparation payment for the roosters.  Just as soon as the oven is working again, I'm baking them a pie.

"Good fences make good neighbors."  There's so much truth in that.

Gifting Handmade

It always warms my heart with such such joy when I'm actually able to align my good intentions, my brilliant ideas, my always seemingly scarce time, and the activity of my hands to create a gift for a loved one.  It always impresses the heck out of me when I conceive of, start and FINISH said gift by the date for which it is intended.  Witness the 5 year old unfinished tapestry project for my sister, the 11 year old unfinished quilt for my highschool bestie (this one I'm giving up on, I'm repurposing what has been sewn, putting the leftover fabric back in the stash and beginning a new project, again quilts, this time for her twin babies).  Someday this particular sort of accomplishment will cease to be a small miracle in my life and be rather an enjoyable customary occurrence.  I promise.  Eventually.

And I did it!  I succeeded.  A few days before her birthday, no less!  My dear friend Faye is mommy to two super sweet pups, and after the Yule stitching for my mom I wanted to try my hand at working off of a photograph rather than a woodblock print, so I figured this would be a perfect project!  Happy Birthday dearest!

It was super fun.  The only trick is in deciding what level of detail and which lines of contour to choose to trace from the photo.  I'm pretty in love still with my diy light table of tracing on the window.  Come winter though, I'll have to plan around the few hours of daylight midday to trace a project!  The stitching itself is tied with the gifting for the prize of Jasmine's-favorite-part-of-the-process.  

Oh, I've got so many ideas for more!  If you're as totally in love with this idea as I am, I encourage you to grab some fabric, thread, embroidery hoop, tracing pencil and photo and get started!  If you're not the crafty type but you are as in love with this idea as I am; contact me in the comments, I'd love to do custom work (and promise a firm and reasonable delivery date!) for you.

Rage Rant

This.  This is what is sick in our society.  This makes its way through a major publishing house, and is put on the shelves at your local bookstore.  And we wonder why rape culture continues to perpetuate itself.

Yeah, yeah, I get it.  Its supposed to be cute.  Its supposed to be clever.  "What new parent hasn't wished that their tiny bundle of a baby came with an instruction manual along with the enormity of responsibility?" asks the marketing assistant. Its a sentiment repeated on mommy blogs and social media.  It in itself is a symptom of a culture that has devalued intrinsic wisdom and the intuition we all have access to and has chosen instead to rely on the outside authority of 'experts' in nearly every field including, perhaps unsurprisingly, child rearing. Baby knows what baby needs, and so does Mom if she listens, so does Dad if he listens. But that's a whole 'nother conversation.

What got my goat, what made me gasp in outrage when I saw it on the shelf, what got me to whip out my cameraphone and snap a photo to post in rage to social media is the title and all the (unexamined - I will charitably assume this of the author who seems to be a well educated woman) assumptions that underpin the title.

You don't own your baby.  You don't own your child.  They are autonomous humans entrusted to your care.

But more than that?

A GIRL'S BODY IS NOT CHATTEL.  A woman's body is her own.  It does not magically become her own at the stroke of midnight when she turns 18.  It is her own as a teen, as a girl, as a baby.  It is hers.  It does not belong to the scary man in the alley, it does not belong to her soccer coach or her pastor or her teacher.  It does not belong to the guy she went out for drinks with.  (Pardon, the guy with whom she went out for drinks.) It does not belong to her boyfriend.  It does not belong to her husband.  It does not belong to People magazine or the paparazzi.  It does not belong to her mom.  It does not belong to her dad.  It belongs to her.

"Baby Girls : an owner's manual." That is not clever.  That is not cute.  That is sick.  It is sad. 

My inner snark had hoped to get even more righteously indignant over the fact there was no boy baby book with a parallel title.  But there is.  By the same author.  I don't know if that ameliorates the issue or makes it worse. 

If we intend to teach our children that no means no, that yes means yes, that they don't have to accept abuse, that they have no right to abuse or force themselves on another person; if we intend to heal a culture - a world - that has become inured to interpersonal violence and sexual harassment and assault... it has to start with the children.  We have to raise children who believe, who know, that they belong to themselves.  That their mind is their own, their feelings are their own, and that their body is their own.