My fairy princess

Welcome Spring

Magic Mist

Elizabeth tells me that mist is magic. I have to agree with her. Everything appears different under the cover of mist. The world seems to shrink to include only those things within one's sight. Perhaps part of the magic is that the fog narrows one's view, and even thoughts. On foggy mornings I can't gaze off into the distance and remember riding my horse up and away and off over those hills. Instead my thoughts turn to chores to be done within the shroud of fog. I should trim the goats hooves this week. I really need to stock up on cracked corn for the chickens. There is fencing to be done. I think we'll have pea soup tonight. After I 've finished the chores I should bring in some more wood for tonight's fire.

I had a similar experience last week making a very long drive through the fog. I usually find myself thinking ahead to the end of my journey, anticipating climbing out of the truck and unbuckling the kids. Making my way through the mist was different. I was forced to concentrate on the few feet I could see ahead of me. Peering into the fog took up all my attention, and the time flew by. We almost seemed to be home before we set out.

I think Elizabeth is on to something.

Welcome November

Rain followed on the heels of the windy day we saw a few days ago. Elizabeth and Isidore couldn't be stopped from dashing right out into it. Aliana went to find her slippers and hat. I put on soup for dinner.

We all enjoyed the sound of the rain on the yurt roof. It's a special sound. We are very cozy and well-insulated, but there isn't a lot of thickness separating the interior of our home from the weather outside, certainly not as much as in a tradional wooden house. As a result, each raindrop makes its arrival known. When it really pours down we are all forced to pause in our conversations and listen to Mother Nature's voice for a time.

Before Dawn

Our family wakes up early these days. At least for a week or two, Patrick is working a shift that begins at 4:15 AM. He and I have always watched each other suspiciously from opposite sides of the divide between cheerful morning people and night owls. Can you guess who's who?

For me this radical change has been a slightly uncomfortable pleasure. Getting up out of the warm bed is tough, but my reward is the quiet, still space of time ahead of me. I relish an hour of Internet addiction time, tidy up the house, get something of some sort rising or fermenting or stewing. Around the time the light begins to fill in the details of my view out the window I bundle up and head out with my milking bowl.

The world outside is really pretty raucous in the early morning. The hungry cows spot me as I step out the door. They don't moo so much as bellow. The roosters have been crowing for quite a while now, and when I open the coop they flap past my face in their hurry to get out to take care of chicken-business. The goats chime in next, saying good morning in three distinct voices. The geese and ducks splash and quarrel. As I milk, in the distance I hear cars taking children to the bus stop and dogs barking at those cars.

As I step in the door bearing milk and eggs Isidore is up and wants to know if we can get out the school books and get to work. He adores the math and reading books we began using a few weeks ago. Last week he began to really read, to sound out unfamiliar words. Though he enjoyed schoolwork already, this breakthrough energized him. After we do the brief lessons from the books he asks me to write down words for him to read. This game is still novel for both of us. After he tires of reading to me, I take my turn reading aloud. We dive into the workings of the human body, cowboy stories, and lots and lots of Halloween tales. Elizabeth joins us under the blanket on the couch, usually adding a poetry book to the pile. She has been rhyming words since she could speak, and loves to listen to poetry read aloud. I do wonder where that will take her. If Aliana is home we make room for her and let ourselves sink deep into the world of The Hobbit for awhile, our latest daily pleasure.

I am so glad they weren't in one of the cars bound for the bus stop this morning.

Introducing Phoebe

On All Hallows Eve we will have two black felines stalking the house. Aliana has chosen a black cat costume this year, and we have been enjoying the antics of an inky little kitten for the last few weeks. Dear Charlie, the friendly old guy who was living with Patrick when I met him, had to be buried on the hill this summer. That left the Works family very sad and catless.

Naturally Phoebe immediately became Elizabeth's favorite stuffed animal, and though she is often frustrated by this particular toy's self-will, most of the time Phoebe remains patiently curled up in Ellie's arms for quite some time.

Our Plum Tree

The thing I think I will miss most about the little red house when we leave is the plum tree. It's not a very productive tree, and the fruit is tiny, but Patrick and I were married under it's branches. Then a few years later it was in full bloom on the stormy January night Elizabeth was born. Every year we have told her that it blooms as a gift for her birthday, and we have come to call it Elizabeth's tree. I mourn to leave it, but we will remember the joy we have felt under and in it's branches, picking the fruit it creates to pass on its life, making vows to entwine our lives, and bearing a new life of our own. We will try to take a cutting or plant a pit from the harvest this year. I sure hope we are successful, but even if we aren't, I will always remember Elizabeth's plum tree.

Friday

Brown shoes and pretty dresses

Elizabeth has been referred to as "the carbon-fiber girl". She possesses amazing strength (of will) but packs it into a very small package . She began speaking in full sentences about five minutes after she was born, but has remained rather small for her age. We have gradually become used to hearing her try to use sophisticated reason to argue for three year old goals like having a larger helping of chocolate pudding than her brother. Along with the iron will, the shortest member of our family makes up for her diminutive size with a well-developed sense of fashion. This is NOT something she has inherited from me. On the other hand, Patrick can make the whole family laugh when he asks one of the kids to get his brown shoes from the shelf. This chore can involve many trips to the shelf for the poor kid assigned to the job.

"No, not those. The other brown shoes."

He has many, many brown shoes.

This is actually how we keep the children in such good health; lots of fresh vegetables and running back and forth to the closet for dad.

Elizabeth recently gave up pants. There is no arguing with the will of a three year old girl when it comes to what she is going to wear. Dresses and skirts it is. And clickety-clackety shoes. She also changes outfits approximately seventy-eight times in each twenty-four hour period, along with her mood.

So, we have a running deal now. Mom or Dad puts up the cash for a new dress from time to time, and the curly haired one is required to model said frock in the studio before enjoying a meal involving ketchup or any recreation that exposes the pristine garment to dirt. After the clean dress is recorded she is free to get back to life and be a dirty little ragamuffin girl.

Spring is coming

Help with the laundry