Here he is swinging and enjoying a popsicle at the same time.
Oh Summertime!
Thursday, June 24, 2010
On Popsicles and Swings
Noah has finally figured out how to SWING...all by himself...on a big boy swing.
Here he is swinging and enjoying a popsicle at the same time.
Oh Summertime!
Here he is swinging and enjoying a popsicle at the same time.
Oh Summertime!
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Almost Farewell to Salt City
It's been a busy time for The LeBlanc's.
We are winding up our stay in Syracuse. We've been here for almost 3 years now. At this point in our relationship with a particular locale, we're finally acclimated, we've learned our way around, enjoy the familiar faces and places, have fond memories and friends, know what to expect of a place, know where the potholes are and how to avoid them.
Now we are packing up and saying our goodbyes. It's a bit melancholic, but totally liberating.
In a way, a burden is lifted. No more investments need to be made. We are slowly working our way free.
Last Tuesday, I worked my final shift at the co-op...
all these adorable children, smiling and sticky,
seesaws and races, duck duck goose,
Noah's first experiences having friends and teachers.
Thursday night, Clark's Ale House with the book club...
beautiful, strong women who open their minds to each other and to the ideas in books they read.
Letting themselves grow...all on journeys...
bracing for inevitable changes to selves, children, life.
On Friday, Michael, Noah, and I visited some fave spots in the Westcott area.
Las Delicias' black beans, slow slow slow roasted chicken, salsa music making my heart sing. All three of us can't help but wiggle-dance in our chairs and hum along to the sounds of Spain and the Carribean.
We had a cup o' joe at Recess and peeked at the community garden across the street.
Saturday, another trip to the Farmer's Market...a few raindrops, bumping into Tara and Aaron...the smell of tomatoes and strawberries and peppers, fried dough rolled in sugar. I will miss the CNY farmers and cheesemakers that have been feeding us their wonderful labors of love. Truly divine lunch from Laos Village. Mmmm- Curry Puffs.
Saturday night, I laughed and laughed at (fellow blogger and fellow co-op mommy) Aubry's performance in the Scream Queens. Sexy, funny, silly! Came home that night and told Michael that I really really really want to get back into theater...earlier that day I had told him that I really really really want to get back into singing after listening to my beloved Pasty Cline...and I've been telling him often that I really really really want to go salsa dancing again. Life is too short, and OH HOW I CRAVE FUN!!
Sunday, we went to Patti's to celebrate Mark's 3rd birthday. So sweet, he could pick one kid to celebrate his birthday with pizza and orange frosted cupcakes, and he chose Noah. I got the extreme privelege of cuddling the newborn, Miles. Awww! So precious!
I've gotten a little more serious about packing this week. No more socializing. Wrapping up each individual dish and trinket is a pain in the tookus. Wouldn't you agree?
Almost farewell to Salt City. 13 days and nights remain.
All of the lovely lovely people I've met here alter me, become a piece of me that I will carry around like a phantom limb.
We are pushing our way out of the Syracuse cocoon-state, and who knows what strange creature will emerge once we reach our new digs in Takoma Park and begin this unknown phase of our lives.
We are winding up our stay in Syracuse. We've been here for almost 3 years now. At this point in our relationship with a particular locale, we're finally acclimated, we've learned our way around, enjoy the familiar faces and places, have fond memories and friends, know what to expect of a place, know where the potholes are and how to avoid them.
Now we are packing up and saying our goodbyes. It's a bit melancholic, but totally liberating.
In a way, a burden is lifted. No more investments need to be made. We are slowly working our way free.
Last Tuesday, I worked my final shift at the co-op...
all these adorable children, smiling and sticky,
seesaws and races, duck duck goose,
Noah's first experiences having friends and teachers.
Thursday night, Clark's Ale House with the book club...
beautiful, strong women who open their minds to each other and to the ideas in books they read.
Letting themselves grow...all on journeys...
bracing for inevitable changes to selves, children, life.
On Friday, Michael, Noah, and I visited some fave spots in the Westcott area.
Las Delicias' black beans, slow slow slow roasted chicken, salsa music making my heart sing. All three of us can't help but wiggle-dance in our chairs and hum along to the sounds of Spain and the Carribean.
We had a cup o' joe at Recess and peeked at the community garden across the street.
Saturday, another trip to the Farmer's Market...a few raindrops, bumping into Tara and Aaron...the smell of tomatoes and strawberries and peppers, fried dough rolled in sugar. I will miss the CNY farmers and cheesemakers that have been feeding us their wonderful labors of love. Truly divine lunch from Laos Village. Mmmm- Curry Puffs.
Saturday night, I laughed and laughed at (fellow blogger and fellow co-op mommy) Aubry's performance in the Scream Queens. Sexy, funny, silly! Came home that night and told Michael that I really really really want to get back into theater...earlier that day I had told him that I really really really want to get back into singing after listening to my beloved Pasty Cline...and I've been telling him often that I really really really want to go salsa dancing again. Life is too short, and OH HOW I CRAVE FUN!!
Sunday, we went to Patti's to celebrate Mark's 3rd birthday. So sweet, he could pick one kid to celebrate his birthday with pizza and orange frosted cupcakes, and he chose Noah. I got the extreme privelege of cuddling the newborn, Miles. Awww! So precious!
I've gotten a little more serious about packing this week. No more socializing. Wrapping up each individual dish and trinket is a pain in the tookus. Wouldn't you agree?
Almost farewell to Salt City. 13 days and nights remain.
All of the lovely lovely people I've met here alter me, become a piece of me that I will carry around like a phantom limb.
We are pushing our way out of the Syracuse cocoon-state, and who knows what strange creature will emerge once we reach our new digs in Takoma Park and begin this unknown phase of our lives.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Batter My Heart...and then WHAT?!!
I've been watching some thought-provoking films lately:
The Cove
Food Inc.
Dark Days
The Gleaners and I
The Road
Precious
I recommend these if you do, indeed, want your heart battered. When I say 'battered,' I'm referring to violent blows dealt to your vulnerable spots ...not 'battered and deep-fried'.
It's enough to lose faith in humanity.
Hard to be hopeful when there is so much grim and grime and cold-heartedness, ignorance and greed.
From my film list, you might think that I don't know how to have any fun. But don't worry about me. I have enough selfish pleasure in my life- time and laughter with Michael and Noah, delicious food and drink, zumba and salsa dancing, watching birds and flowers, music and art, and the sweet nectar of poetry.
But life, for me, isn't just about how to enjoy. Even though we are constantly given the imperative from all directions to ENJOY, ENJOY, ENJOY!
What do I do with this bombardment of sorrow, this frustration, the feeling that I'm one little person without power to change anything unjust?
I vote. I donate. I make educated choices about what I purchase and consume. I sign petitions. I am kind to people around me. I listen.
But I continue to feel a restlessness, a call to action, a strong desire to do more. I've always been uncomfortable on the sidelines. Do I just put my hands in my pockets? Do I just stare at the players and their passions? I abhor feeling useless.
Do you ever feel this way? What do you DO when the gray sea's waves crash and thunder and beat you down? And I really mean what ACTIONS do you take when you are moved to act? Not prayer, not optimism, ACTION....
How do you channel that restless, frustrated energy?
Just now, John Donne's Batter My Heart came to mind:
Batter my heart, three-person'd God, for you
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurp'd town to'another due,
Labor to'admit you, but oh, to no end;
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captiv'd, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly'I love you, and would be lov'd fain,
But am betroth'd unto your enemy;
Divorce me,'untie or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you'enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.
So my question persists...once your heart has been battered, ravished, burned (by a God, or by whatever Unspeakable Truth speaks to you through great Literature, Film, Art)...
How do you live a life broken open? What do you DO?
Teach me. I'm learning as I go.
The Cove
Food Inc.
Dark Days
The Gleaners and I
The Road
Precious
I recommend these if you do, indeed, want your heart battered. When I say 'battered,' I'm referring to violent blows dealt to your vulnerable spots ...not 'battered and deep-fried'.
It's enough to lose faith in humanity.
Hard to be hopeful when there is so much grim and grime and cold-heartedness, ignorance and greed.
From my film list, you might think that I don't know how to have any fun. But don't worry about me. I have enough selfish pleasure in my life- time and laughter with Michael and Noah, delicious food and drink, zumba and salsa dancing, watching birds and flowers, music and art, and the sweet nectar of poetry.
But life, for me, isn't just about how to enjoy. Even though we are constantly given the imperative from all directions to ENJOY, ENJOY, ENJOY!
What do I do with this bombardment of sorrow, this frustration, the feeling that I'm one little person without power to change anything unjust?
I vote. I donate. I make educated choices about what I purchase and consume. I sign petitions. I am kind to people around me. I listen.
But I continue to feel a restlessness, a call to action, a strong desire to do more. I've always been uncomfortable on the sidelines. Do I just put my hands in my pockets? Do I just stare at the players and their passions? I abhor feeling useless.
Do you ever feel this way? What do you DO when the gray sea's waves crash and thunder and beat you down? And I really mean what ACTIONS do you take when you are moved to act? Not prayer, not optimism, ACTION....
How do you channel that restless, frustrated energy?
Just now, John Donne's Batter My Heart came to mind:
Batter my heart, three-person'd God, for you
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurp'd town to'another due,
Labor to'admit you, but oh, to no end;
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captiv'd, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly'I love you, and would be lov'd fain,
But am betroth'd unto your enemy;
Divorce me,'untie or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you'enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.
So my question persists...once your heart has been battered, ravished, burned (by a God, or by whatever Unspeakable Truth speaks to you through great Literature, Film, Art)...
How do you live a life broken open? What do you DO?
Teach me. I'm learning as I go.
She's not sleezy! A DIY Bike Project Update.
A mentioned that I was embarking on yet another DIY project a few posts ago. I'm referring to the still unnamed bicyletta that I found all banged up with a floozy-looking day-glo orange paint job.
She just needed a little love and a makeover. I've been working my magic on the old gal, and I'm happy to report- there's progress!
Here's a before shot:
Well, it's actually AFTER I removed and repaired the funky back tire.
Yep, that's right, call on me for all your bicycle repair needs!
I am WOMAN, hear me ROAR!
So this shot is before the paint job:
She just needed a little love and a makeover. I've been working my magic on the old gal, and I'm happy to report- there's progress!
Here's a before shot:
Well, it's actually AFTER I removed and repaired the funky back tire.
Yep, that's right, call on me for all your bicycle repair needs!
I am WOMAN, hear me ROAR!
So this shot is before the paint job:
She's a little bright. In fact, this picture doesn't accurately show how she glows and makes everyone stare and gawk. And when I'm riding a bike down the street, the last thing I need is for everyone to stare. My big booty already attracts enough attention. So I have been painting the old gal. I happened to have some wine colored spray paint in the tool shed. She has a layer of "Claret" and she is suddenly a bit more classy. Pictures to follow!
I'll add a wicker basket for trips to the Farmer's Market in Takoma Park.
I do wonder how I will get Noah from here to there with me. He weighs in around 40 lbs, which is the weight limit for those kid seats that attach to the back of the bike. Maybe I'll check into one of those trailers? Is that like becoming a rickshaw driver? Or maybe soon he'll be ready for a big boy bike?
My new, much more elegant transportation still needs a name. I'm considering these possibilities:
Flannery
Alice
Georgette
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Wildness, Freshness, and other Culinary Adventures
I'm reading and adventuring, so that you don't have to. You can just read about my experiments and then decide whether you want to embark on similar ventures. It's a service I'm offering you. Really. It's kind of like Fear Factor. Dare me! I'll try it! I have no fear.
Unlike Fear Factor, however, I haven't been drinking rancid meat cocktails or diving into piranah invested waters. Instead, I've been trying out new stuff in the kitchen. Culinary adventures.
Here's an update of sorts:
Since I started making my own yogurt, I've been looking for something to do with all of the leftover WHEY. Homeade yogurt is a bit runnier than store-bought, so I like to strain my runny yogurt, which results in the awesomest, thick, rich, Greek-style yogurt. You can make your own Greek-style yogurt or even yogurt cheese by just plopping it in a strainer lined with coffee filters. A bowl underneath catches all the whey as it drips out. The longer you leave it straining, the thicker the yogurt gets until- VOILA- you have CHEESE!
Anyways, I think it's a shame to just toss the remaining whey puddle. So I checked out a few books on Lacto-fermentation. That's where you use whey to ferment food- change it radically- and wonderfully.
Just think of all you love that relies on fermentation: WINE, BEER, CHEESE, BREAD!!!! But I wasn't familiar with Lacto-fermentation, so I decided to get me some edumacationz on the subject. If you're interested, check these books out (or don't, because I already did it for you, remember!):
Nourishing Traditions by Sally Fallon. This book really opened my eyes. It's partially a very thorough textbook on nutrition, at times delving into biology. It's also a cookbook, with simple recipes on making your own mayonnaise and salad dressing, to more advanced stuff like pickling (with WHEY!). In the picture above, you can see jars of my own Lacto-fermented cukes and carrots. I'd like to report that they are as delicious as they look. But that'd be a bald-faced lie. Sadly, these were not what I'd hoped for. But I'll totally try, try again. The subtitle of Fallon's book is, The Cookbook that Challenges Politically Correct Nutrition and the Diet Dictocrats. So it's partially a critique of low-fat, low-carb, vegetarian, and vegan diet know-it-alls. But honestly, I found Sally's tone to be a bit preachy and dictocratic herself. It bugs me when people speak with such aggressive certitude. But, le sigh, we all have our flaws, ironies, contradictions... With that said, I'll probably still invest in a gently used copy of this book because it is so chock full of information. And she quotes the Little House books! I will have to do a seperate post on my undying love for all things Laura Ingalls Wilder. Love you, Half-pint! Blowing you kisses, Michael Landon!
Wild Fermentation by Sandor Ellix Katz was right up my alley! Katz, an HIV/AIDS survivor who lives in a commune in the woods, began healing himself by incorporating wildness (in the form of live-culture food) into his body. From his website he explains what is so wild about fermentation, "Wild fermentation is a way of incorporating the wild into your body, becoming one with the natural world. Wild foods, microbial cultures included, possess a great, unmediated life force, which can help us adapt to shifting conditions and lower our susceptibility to disease. These microorganisms are everywhere, and the techniques for fermenting with them are simple and flexible." There are recipes for saurkraut, kimchi, miso, tempeh, and plenty o' brews. A common theme between Wild Fermentation and Nourishing Traditions, is the connection to the past that we can rediscover through food by using these 'primitive' techniques. Nothing much more old-school than the slow-food movement.
Canning and Preserving with Ashley English. Beautiful book! I mean it. If you like looking at fantastically ripe, gorgeous, seasonal vegetables and fruit, this book could very well be your new porn. She seperates the book by seasons and encourages you to can and preserve according to what is currently in season in your area. She explains and illustrates canning techniques thoroughly for the newbie. She has basic recipes for pickling and such, but she goes way beyond with recipes for exotic chutneys, marmalades, and sauces. Lip-smacking! She also has a great blog, another book on keeping chickens, and one about tending bees coming out soon too. In other words, I want to be Ashley when I grow up. Don't be misled, Ashley doesn't do Lacto-fermentation.
For Mother's Day, it snowed here in Syracuse. All. Day. Long. But on the bright side, my dear husband gifted me two wonderful books. Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day by Zoe Francois and Jeff Hertzberg, which I've previously mentioned on this here blog. And Home Cheese Making by Ricki Carroll (this is the Bible for cheese makers!). Needless to say, I'll be busy in the kitchen.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Should it stay or should it go now...
I've been going through the attic, basement, and shed trying to determine what to bring with us on our move.
We'll be renting an apartment in Takoma Park, MD for the first year there. The apartment is within walking distance to Michael's college, which is fabulous since Michael will not have to commute (which is a big pain in the boot-ay and the tookus -both- if your in the DC area). We'll finally be able to take advantage of public transportation since we'll be a 10 minute walk away from the Metro station. Noah and I can hop on the train and within a few minutes arrive at the National Zoo (PANDAS!), or the Lincoln Memorial, or the Smithsonian, or the White House. I'm so excited that we'll be able to reduce our carbon footprint by living a more urban existence.
However, some of the good life we're enjoying here in Syracuse must be sacrificed.
Space will be limited. Even though the house we're living in was most surely built for hobbits or dwarves, it still has more space than our Takoma Park apartment will have. So I am trying to decide what is essential, and it is challenging- not because I'm some sicko hoarder- but because I'm such a nostalgic sap. Is there a difference? I hope so!
The attic is full of boxes of books. I open a box and find old friends waiting for me to pick them up again, authors from pre and post-high school, early loves of mine: J.D. Salinger, Kurt Vonnegut, Tom Robbins, David Gerrold, and oh yeah, Piers Anthony! Needless to say, I can't say goodbye. They will join us to yet another home not quite big enough for all our books. What will I do with them all? Line every wall with bookshelves bursting full? Probably.
The basement is mostly full of TOYS. Goodness gracious. Noah is only 4. Where did all this primary-colored plastic, made-in-china junk come from? Note to any family members reading this blog: please no more toys...get the boy a membership at the zoo, science museum, or gift him with YOUR PRESENCE!
Noah and I were poking around in the basement yesterday, choosing the destiny of these toys- yard sale, goodwill, or moving to DC. It was pretty sad. Noah only wanted his play doh really, but I talked him into a few other things. I must admit I got a bit teary-eyed when Noah said he didn't want his Little People anymore. Not the Noah's Ark with all the animals that mom so loves to play with? Nope. Not the School Bus with the disabled girl wearing glasses? Nope. Nope. Nope. Apparently the Little People stuff is for babies, and I have a big boy on my hands.
The shed. Oh man. I have to leave much of that to Michael to sort through. When his father died, Michael adopted all of his father's tools, 2 shop vacs, a generator, ladders, work benches, tents and camping supplies, hammocks, bocce ball set, cross country skis, etc, etc, I could honestly go on and on...
There's no way we can take it all with us. Do we really need some of this stuff? But it is painful to let things go when they remind you of someone you love who you'll never see again.
Plundering through the shed, I spied a bright neon pinkish-orangeish ladies bicycle. One of those beach cruisers. It was Michael's mom's, but I can't imagine her ever ever being seen with it, much less riding it!
I've been wanting another bike ever since mine was stolen in Gainesville at the apartments across the street form Denny's. Well, here's a bike. It's back wheel is twisted and it looks like the worst of Daytona Beach- all drunk and begging for attention. I'm going to fix her up and spray paint her...
Maybe I can transform her somehow into the Trek Atwood (seen in all her glory directly below).
I have a sneaking suspicion that the Atwood is named after one of my favorite authors.
I'll definitely give ol' Daytona Girl a new name after her makeover. The Delillo? The Kingsolver? The Neruda? Billy Collins?
Atwood WSD | Bike Path | Trek WSD Bikes
Posted using ShareThis
We'll be renting an apartment in Takoma Park, MD for the first year there. The apartment is within walking distance to Michael's college, which is fabulous since Michael will not have to commute (which is a big pain in the boot-ay and the tookus -both- if your in the DC area). We'll finally be able to take advantage of public transportation since we'll be a 10 minute walk away from the Metro station. Noah and I can hop on the train and within a few minutes arrive at the National Zoo (PANDAS!), or the Lincoln Memorial, or the Smithsonian, or the White House. I'm so excited that we'll be able to reduce our carbon footprint by living a more urban existence.
However, some of the good life we're enjoying here in Syracuse must be sacrificed.
Space will be limited. Even though the house we're living in was most surely built for hobbits or dwarves, it still has more space than our Takoma Park apartment will have. So I am trying to decide what is essential, and it is challenging- not because I'm some sicko hoarder- but because I'm such a nostalgic sap. Is there a difference? I hope so!
The attic is full of boxes of books. I open a box and find old friends waiting for me to pick them up again, authors from pre and post-high school, early loves of mine: J.D. Salinger, Kurt Vonnegut, Tom Robbins, David Gerrold, and oh yeah, Piers Anthony! Needless to say, I can't say goodbye. They will join us to yet another home not quite big enough for all our books. What will I do with them all? Line every wall with bookshelves bursting full? Probably.
The basement is mostly full of TOYS. Goodness gracious. Noah is only 4. Where did all this primary-colored plastic, made-in-china junk come from? Note to any family members reading this blog: please no more toys...get the boy a membership at the zoo, science museum, or gift him with YOUR PRESENCE!
Noah and I were poking around in the basement yesterday, choosing the destiny of these toys- yard sale, goodwill, or moving to DC. It was pretty sad. Noah only wanted his play doh really, but I talked him into a few other things. I must admit I got a bit teary-eyed when Noah said he didn't want his Little People anymore. Not the Noah's Ark with all the animals that mom so loves to play with? Nope. Not the School Bus with the disabled girl wearing glasses? Nope. Nope. Nope. Apparently the Little People stuff is for babies, and I have a big boy on my hands.
The shed. Oh man. I have to leave much of that to Michael to sort through. When his father died, Michael adopted all of his father's tools, 2 shop vacs, a generator, ladders, work benches, tents and camping supplies, hammocks, bocce ball set, cross country skis, etc, etc, I could honestly go on and on...
There's no way we can take it all with us. Do we really need some of this stuff? But it is painful to let things go when they remind you of someone you love who you'll never see again.
Plundering through the shed, I spied a bright neon pinkish-orangeish ladies bicycle. One of those beach cruisers. It was Michael's mom's, but I can't imagine her ever ever being seen with it, much less riding it!
I've been wanting another bike ever since mine was stolen in Gainesville at the apartments across the street form Denny's. Well, here's a bike. It's back wheel is twisted and it looks like the worst of Daytona Beach- all drunk and begging for attention. I'm going to fix her up and spray paint her...
Maybe I can transform her somehow into the Trek Atwood (seen in all her glory directly below).
I have a sneaking suspicion that the Atwood is named after one of my favorite authors.
I'll definitely give ol' Daytona Girl a new name after her makeover. The Delillo? The Kingsolver? The Neruda? Billy Collins?
Atwood WSD | Bike Path | Trek WSD Bikes
Posted using ShareThis
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Saturday on Dagobah
Although wet snow was whipping all around us today, believe it or not, it is Spring here in Syracuse.
Saturday was lovely- in the 60's, sunny.
Our plan was to spend the gorgeous day on a canoe at the Beaver Lake Nature Center.
But our plans often go awry. And that, my friends, is LIFE!
Fed up with consumerism over the holidays, I gave my husband some 'experiential' gifts for Christmas- gift certificates for snowshoeing and canoeing at Beaver Lake. Unfortunately, when we arrived during the long snowy winter to snowshoe, we were told that there wasn't enough snow on the ground for snowshoeing (we did, however, enjoy an enchanting hike through the snow, see photos here)!
Then, this Saturday when we arrived to canoe, we were told that the canoes are not being rented yet due to geese hanging out on the lake and the water being too cold- in case you fall in!
So again, Merry Christmas, Michael! I guess we can just say that his present was a donation to the Beaver Lake Nature Center, a worthy charity indeed.
Even though our best laid plans often crumble, we can still find beauty and joy in the experiences we are graced with. Such was the case for The LeBlanc's on Saturday.
The first thing Noah wanted to do was check on the frogs. We were all curious to see if they had sprung back to life like all the emerging flora. Noah, with his young, strong eyes, spotted this one right away.
Polliwogs wiggled around,
spiders skated on the water's tension, and salamanders sunned.
We followed the Lake Loop trail which led us under an already lush canopy of stately pine and pale birch that wraps around Beaver Lake.
It was forest and swamp mixed together.
We could smell the lake and hear it lapping the shore.
At one point we noticed a sign stating that the trail would last at least another hour, and that if it was close to dusk, then you should turn back now.
It was early. We kept on truckin'.
The geek in me imagined I was
on the Star Wars planet Dagobah.
But witness any Jedi-in-training
standing upside down in the swamp, we did not.
Noah and Michael
on Dagobah's main thoroughfare.
I am a huge fan of Fiddlehead Ferns
curling into themselves.
And pairs of ducks paddling.
Fiddlehead groups,
clusters, clumps.
There were wild violets blooming
and wild roses soon to bloom.
It will be a very fragrant trail come summer.
Noah and Michael played a game of calling to the crows, "Caw, caw," and laughing heartily at their response.
We came to rest
on a swing together and soaked in the last of the day's sweet goodness.
Overall, a grand day, immune to all our schemes.
Saturday was lovely- in the 60's, sunny.
Our plan was to spend the gorgeous day on a canoe at the Beaver Lake Nature Center.
But our plans often go awry. And that, my friends, is LIFE!
Fed up with consumerism over the holidays, I gave my husband some 'experiential' gifts for Christmas- gift certificates for snowshoeing and canoeing at Beaver Lake. Unfortunately, when we arrived during the long snowy winter to snowshoe, we were told that there wasn't enough snow on the ground for snowshoeing (we did, however, enjoy an enchanting hike through the snow, see photos here)!
Then, this Saturday when we arrived to canoe, we were told that the canoes are not being rented yet due to geese hanging out on the lake and the water being too cold- in case you fall in!
So again, Merry Christmas, Michael! I guess we can just say that his present was a donation to the Beaver Lake Nature Center, a worthy charity indeed.
Even though our best laid plans often crumble, we can still find beauty and joy in the experiences we are graced with. Such was the case for The LeBlanc's on Saturday.
The first thing Noah wanted to do was check on the frogs. We were all curious to see if they had sprung back to life like all the emerging flora. Noah, with his young, strong eyes, spotted this one right away.
Polliwogs wiggled around,
spiders skated on the water's tension, and salamanders sunned.
We followed the Lake Loop trail which led us under an already lush canopy of stately pine and pale birch that wraps around Beaver Lake.
It was forest and swamp mixed together.
We could smell the lake and hear it lapping the shore.
At one point we noticed a sign stating that the trail would last at least another hour, and that if it was close to dusk, then you should turn back now.
It was early. We kept on truckin'.
The geek in me imagined I was
on the Star Wars planet Dagobah.
But witness any Jedi-in-training
standing upside down in the swamp, we did not.
Noah and Michael
on Dagobah's main thoroughfare.
I am a huge fan of Fiddlehead Ferns
curling into themselves.
And pairs of ducks paddling.
Fiddlehead groups,
clusters, clumps.
There were wild violets blooming
and wild roses soon to bloom.
It will be a very fragrant trail come summer.
We came to rest
on a swing together and soaked in the last of the day's sweet goodness.
Overall, a grand day, immune to all our schemes.
Monday, April 19, 2010
A Prayer
A Prayer
Mary and Grace are in my hands
my companions, though, I'd have gladly
chosen you
and look, here you are,
and I am trapped in this one-sided
conversation
where words are spilled
and left to dry out
and wither on the table
without reciprocity
turn away
and ask again
no response
and after all
still no response
How to move
a ghost or blackbird?
I listen for clues in the silence between pages.
Mary and Grace are in my hands
my companions, though, I'd have gladly
chosen you
and look, here you are,
and I am trapped in this one-sided
conversation
where words are spilled
and left to dry out
and wither on the table
without reciprocity
turn away
and ask again
no response
and after all
still no response
How to move
a ghost or blackbird?
I listen for clues in the silence between pages.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Farewell to The Syracuse Daffodils
Our last spring with the Syracuse Daffodils.
The Syracuse Daffodils. Wouldn't that be a cute name for a little all-girl, retro, lounge singer band?
They would have to wear yellow dresses and strappy heels, fresh pink lips, dewy skin, and upswept do's.
Singing "Try a Little Tenderness," "I'm Sticking With You," and "I'll Fly Away."
These have all been nibbled up by the Easter Bunny and his crew by now.
And these.
I hope the new owners take good care of the Lilies...when they finally pop up again.
And the lovely Iris, Phlox, Foxgloves, and Bee Balm.
Very Miscellany: Guilt, Babies, and Makeup
Miscellaneous- consisting of a haphazard assortment of different kinds, dealing with or interested in diverse subjects....
First, the subject of Guilt. I could devote an entire series of posts to this subject, being that I grew up Baptist- which soaked me in the warm southern summer sunbath of guilt like a potent sun tea, steeping, steeping. Yum, tea. Plus, I simultaneously assume responsibility for things beyond my control, while at the same time wash my hands of everything while muttering a crazy, breathless, Serenity Prayer.
Current Guilt: I'm an awful friend. In fact, I'm practically a foe. My pal, Mary, from MN, who is pregnant with twin girls, has called me several times within the past few weeks. I haven't called her back. Sure, I've been busy (trying to sell our house, plan our move, etc.), and I have diagnosed myself with Pollen Poisoning- which has caused me to crave nothing but sleep and clear nasal passages. But really, these are just excuses. I don't really dig the phone. I'm a 'listener', and often people take liberties with that and babble on and on and fail to breath or ask me how I'm doing. I may adore that particular person (and I'm not referring to Mary), but I don't like to devote much more of my time than necessary to someone's rambling smalltalk. That's what blogs are for! So, I'm a selfish friend. I would much rather spend some time with a pal, maybe enjoying a great dinner, taking a hike together, making toasts and listening to music, or chatting over coffee. But on the phone, I have Noah or Michael tugging at me (usually the friend on the other end of the line has a little one tugging away too), and I'm distracted. And I'm a visual person, I want to see your face, your smile, your eyebrows raised in exclamation. I'm an awful phone friend. But I will call Mary as soon as I finish this post.
Second, babies. I am still not pregnant! There is a sea of bulging bellies all around. But, nope, not mine...well, it bulges slightly, but for all the wrong reasons. By the time I get pregnant again, all the awesome baby names will be taken. Dear Danielle, from co-op and bookclub, bestowed upon her newest addition, the magnificent name of Desmond. I swoon over that name! Thanks, LOST. And Michael, with every intention to make me feel better about not being pregnant yet, says that it's pretty much all in my head, that when I stop wanting it so much, when I feel more secure (ie, after we have moved and settled in our new home turf)...then that is when I will miraculously release that destined fertile egg. He's probably very very right. He means so well, but that all translates to: Madona, you're crazy, once you stop being so crazy, you'll get pregnant.
Well, Patti has loaned me her Fertility God, which she claims worked for her. So, cross your fingers, say your prayers, send electronic fairy dust, whatever it is you do, and let's get me preggers, people!
Third, makeup. I don't know how aware you are of the Crunchy Chicken. Well, she is one extraordinary blogger, who irreverently puts the 'mental' in 'environmental'. I'm a loyal reader and Diva Cup convert (too much info, I know). Anywho...she has fantastic giveaways, and she so kindly selected lil' ol' ME as a winner of her Gabriel Cosmetics giveaway. Yep, she mailed me $50 worth of makeup. Now I am not rubbing poison into my eyes or swallowing lead from my lipstick. I'm very very grateful.
So this brings me full circle to that ever-present Gulit I mentioned earlier. I feel indebted to Crunchy now. I feel guilty that I don't deserve to be a winner! How can I ever repay the Chicken?! I hope she never becomes my friend and expects me to actually call her. On. The. Phone. I would be totally and completely paralyzed by my guilt.
First, the subject of Guilt. I could devote an entire series of posts to this subject, being that I grew up Baptist- which soaked me in the warm southern summer sunbath of guilt like a potent sun tea, steeping, steeping. Yum, tea. Plus, I simultaneously assume responsibility for things beyond my control, while at the same time wash my hands of everything while muttering a crazy, breathless, Serenity Prayer.
Current Guilt: I'm an awful friend. In fact, I'm practically a foe. My pal, Mary, from MN, who is pregnant with twin girls, has called me several times within the past few weeks. I haven't called her back. Sure, I've been busy (trying to sell our house, plan our move, etc.), and I have diagnosed myself with Pollen Poisoning- which has caused me to crave nothing but sleep and clear nasal passages. But really, these are just excuses. I don't really dig the phone. I'm a 'listener', and often people take liberties with that and babble on and on and fail to breath or ask me how I'm doing. I may adore that particular person (and I'm not referring to Mary), but I don't like to devote much more of my time than necessary to someone's rambling smalltalk. That's what blogs are for! So, I'm a selfish friend. I would much rather spend some time with a pal, maybe enjoying a great dinner, taking a hike together, making toasts and listening to music, or chatting over coffee. But on the phone, I have Noah or Michael tugging at me (usually the friend on the other end of the line has a little one tugging away too), and I'm distracted. And I'm a visual person, I want to see your face, your smile, your eyebrows raised in exclamation. I'm an awful phone friend. But I will call Mary as soon as I finish this post.
Second, babies. I am still not pregnant! There is a sea of bulging bellies all around. But, nope, not mine...well, it bulges slightly, but for all the wrong reasons. By the time I get pregnant again, all the awesome baby names will be taken. Dear Danielle, from co-op and bookclub, bestowed upon her newest addition, the magnificent name of Desmond. I swoon over that name! Thanks, LOST. And Michael, with every intention to make me feel better about not being pregnant yet, says that it's pretty much all in my head, that when I stop wanting it so much, when I feel more secure (ie, after we have moved and settled in our new home turf)...then that is when I will miraculously release that destined fertile egg. He's probably very very right. He means so well, but that all translates to: Madona, you're crazy, once you stop being so crazy, you'll get pregnant.
Well, Patti has loaned me her Fertility God, which she claims worked for her. So, cross your fingers, say your prayers, send electronic fairy dust, whatever it is you do, and let's get me preggers, people!
Third, makeup. I don't know how aware you are of the Crunchy Chicken. Well, she is one extraordinary blogger, who irreverently puts the 'mental' in 'environmental'. I'm a loyal reader and Diva Cup convert (too much info, I know). Anywho...she has fantastic giveaways, and she so kindly selected lil' ol' ME as a winner of her Gabriel Cosmetics giveaway. Yep, she mailed me $50 worth of makeup. Now I am not rubbing poison into my eyes or swallowing lead from my lipstick. I'm very very grateful.
So this brings me full circle to that ever-present Gulit I mentioned earlier. I feel indebted to Crunchy now. I feel guilty that I don't deserve to be a winner! How can I ever repay the Chicken?! I hope she never becomes my friend and expects me to actually call her. On. The. Phone. I would be totally and completely paralyzed by my guilt.
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