Lovely World

First Snow

Usually the first snow we get in the Berkshires melts before it even hits the ground.  To my surprise, the snow that arrived Tuesday has stuck around, literally.  The raking of the yard and cutting back of the gardens has come to a frozen halt.  David built a toasty warm fire in the fireplace last night, and Adam and I sat close, with our rocking chairs pulled right up to the hearth.  I was knitting, he was looking at his book about dinosaurs.  David, cozied on the couch with Miriam, was reading aloud Philip Pullman's The Subtle Knife.  Although I'm a bit reluctant to welcome winter, I must say that if more evenings end up like this one, it shouldn't be too difficult to survive the season of turning within.

Bringing Nature Indoors

I have long been a collector of natural detritus.  I return from walks with bird nests found blown out of a tree, colorful or oddly-shaped leaves, pine cones, rocks (I once found a pale gray rock on my driveway the size and shape of a large marble, perfectly round and smooth), butterfly wings (Miriam found a luminous, intact Luna Moth carcass in the Agway parking lot a few years ago), shells, abandoned wasp nests, and other unexpected finds.  There is such perfection in the design, color, and texture of natural objects.  I also wonder if our minds, our senses, are programmed to find the natural world around us pleasing - the right scale and intensity and pace for us.  After all, we have always had to find our way within this environment, until the recent human-built world grew up and masked so much of the natural world.  I was reminded of this recently when the kids and I had to shop at one of the big discount department stores.  Miriam said to me, "Mommy, I don't like how it feels when we shop here, it makes me tired."  I couldn't agree more.  Yet, send my kids outside and they are energized and happy as clams.

The stuff we find on our travels ends up tucked into a corner here or there in our house.  The displays rotate, things get weeded out, new objects fit in. Here are a few examples.

   

Years ago I read the Mary Oliver poem Wings.  She explores the experience of collecting things in the wild, and the potential implications of such.  The poem reminds me to consider what is mine to take, or keep. What truly belongs to me?

WINGS

by Mary Oliver

(from White Pine: Poems and Prose Poems, 1994)

My dog came through the pinewoods dragging a dead fox -

ribs and a spine, and a tail with the fur still on it.  Where did

you find this?  I said to her, and she showed me.  And there

was the skull, there were the leg bones and the shoulder

blades.

I took them home.  I scrubbed them and put them on a shelf

to look at - the pelvis, and the snowy helmet.  Sometimes, in

the pines, in the starlight, an owl hunches in the dense needles,

and coughs up his pellet - the vole or the mouse recently

eaten.  The pellets fall through the branches, through the hair

of the grass.  Dark flowers of fur, with a salt of bones and

teeth, melting away.

In Washington, inside the building of glass and stone, and

down the long aisles, and deep inside the drawers, are the

bones of women and children, the bones of old warriors.

Whole skeletons and parts of skeletons.  They can't move.

They can't even shiver.  Mute, catalogued - they lie in the wide

drawers.

So it didn't take long.  I could see how it was, and where I

was headed.  I took what was left of the fox back to the

pinewoods and buried it.  I don't even remember where.  I do

remember, though, how I felt.  If I had wings I would have

opened them.  I would have risen from the ground.

Fiber Twist

I was excited to escape from Williamstown yesterday.  Miriam and I traveled over the Mohawk Trail to check out the Franklin County Fiber Twist in Greenfield.  It was a rainy day, and much of the drive over the mountain was in the fog.  The muted dullness of the day made the blast of color and verve that greeted us as we walked into the event all the more welcome.

The Fiber Twist showcases local sheep and fiber farmers, spinners, knitters, dyers, felters, weavers, rug hookers - all things fiber.  Miriam had the opportunity to try spinning on a 150-year-old spinning wheel.  Watching her patiently tease the wool into a reasonably consistent-sized yarn made me thankful for all the easily-available pre-spun yarn that I often buy without a thought to exactly where it came from.  If I had to raise an animal, sheer it, wash, card, spin, and dye the wool - how much actual knitting would I get done?

I was glad to see that knitter and embroiderer Kristin Nicholas had a booth.  I have been attracted to her work since I first saw her books.  I love her choice of bright jewel colors and whimsical design.  Here is just a glimpse at her display.

It is energizing to attend events such as this.  I drove home with ideas for future projects, and simply happy to have gotten out of my own head for a while and into the creative space of others.  And to top it all off, I was able to meet my lovely, new(ish) friend Liz for an excellent lunch and visit.  A day well spent.

Walking in the Woods

I've been home all week recovering from my surgery.  I'm feeling a bit cooped-up, but appreciate the time to rest.  The past couple of days I have ventured out on a few short walks into the woods.  Leaving the warm coziness of the house, I love feeling the rush of the cold autumn air.  One day, I was even greeted by the first snow of the season!  Being outdoors clears my head and puts all the worries that might of been accumulating in my brain aside.  It reminds me of when my kids were babies.  Often, when they were very fussy, and all the usual tricks weren't working to soothe them, David or I would bring them outside.  Most of the time, there would be an instant and remarkable ceasing of the distress.  That open sky, that fresh air, that distant look about the world - the outdoors mends the soul no matter what your age.  Here are some of the things I saw on my walks.

Jack-o-lantern

When I went to pick my kids up at school today, a cheery row of jack-o-lanterns was waiting to greet me. Pumpkin carving is an annual event at the school. All the students, nursery school to grade 9, are grouped into teams and work together to design and carve the jack-o-lanterns. These orange globes sit on the wall near the parking lot through Halloween. Reminds me that we need to start thinking about carving our pumpkins here at home. And that I need to get sewing on those costumes...

Staying Home

I just retrieved the recent issue of Orion from my mailbox. I love, love, love this magazine. It is published by The Orion Society, which is based right here in Berkshire County, in Great Barrington. Their mission is to explore the intersections of nature, culture, and place, and to be a force for healing nature and community.

Rebecca Solnit's essay, "The Most Radical Thing You Can Do: Staying Home as a Necessity and a Right," caught my eye. She writes at length about Mexican farmers and migrant workers and the radical notion that people should be able to stay home, on their own land, and survive and hopefully thrive. She also looks at herself and states, "Most of the people I know regard with bemusement or even chagrin the harried, scattered lives they lead. Last summer I found myself having the same conversation with many different people, about our craving for a life with daily rites; with a sense of time like a well-appointed landscape with its landmarks and harmonies; and with a sense of measure and proportion, as opposed to a formless and unending scramble to go places and get things and do more."

It's interesting to think about what it means to slow down, live a paced life, and be at home. Yes, you give up certain things. But, in the quiet moments of a slower pace, a certain sweetness and depth of experience can be found. After reading Solnit's essay, I made this list of the ways our family has tried to live a life "at home":
1. We cook most all of our meals from scratch and eat together around the table.
2. We know our neighbors and nurture our relationships with them.
3. Our kids are involved in very few after-school activities.
4. We try to spend time outside, in the woods if possible, every day.
5. We use local businesses, including food producers, whenever possible.
6. We involve ourself in community activities and events.
7. David commutes on his bicycle as much as he can.
8. We celebrate Shabbat on Friday nights.
9. We are involved with our local synagogue.
10. We entertain ourselves at home with stories, music, art, crafts, game playing, and puzzle making.

There are probably other things to add to this list. You may have other thoughts and ideas. I'd love to know how you try to live your life closer to home.

That aspen leaf on the magazine cover inspired me to share a couple of leaf photos of my own.

Birthday

Yesterday was my 42nd birthday. It was a quiet day, as I'm still recovering from surgery. Yet, there was a celebratory feel throughout. I was welcomed to the day by the kids climbing into my bed, smiling birthday wishes. I told them it would be a great gift if they could get through the day without fussing or fighting, and they did a commendable job. I spent the better part of the afternoon sitting in the living room knitting and watching old 1960s horror movies on Turner Movie Classics. Vincent Price in Edgar Allen Poe's "The House of Usher" is a must-see. The evening brought a homemade birthday dinner, including a vanilla cake with chocolate cream frosting. My mother and Stephen joined us, and I enjoyed just sitting in my chair the whole time, not getting up to serve, to get things for the kids, or to clean up.

I love the gifts I received. David and the kids got me this beautiful necklace from Lisa Leonard Designs. My mother and Stephen gave me two vintage nature books. I have a growing collection of these old books, and I especially love the unique style and design of each one.

Miriam made me this card, including the envelope. Fabric, paper, markers, staples, and a temporary tattoo. These handmade offerings from my children are always the best.

Loss and Gain

As many of you know, I had surgery yesterday to exchange a tissue expander for a breast implant. I am sore and detoxing from the anesthesia drugs, but I am thankful to be done with this. It has been a disconcerting experience: a diagnosis of breast cancer, a mastectomy, and now reconstruction of my breast with a silicone implant. David and I went down to New york City, where I had my surgery, a day early. We spent some time wandering around the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It is amazing to see how many works of art - sculpture, paintings, photography - feature a woman's breasts. Breasts are symbols of nurture, of sexuality, of maturity. Yet, I am beginning to learn that these qualities are really much deeper. A woman may lose a breast, or both, to cancer, but she does not lose those qualities that truly make her a woman. No one gets through life without loss and compromise. The challenge is what you create going forward from those difficult experiences. These are some paintings I saw at the Met.

Local Food II

After writing about Caretaker Farm yesterday, I couldn't neglect another of my absolutely favorite local food spots. Cricket Creek Farm is a dairy farm. We buy our milk and cheese there. Over time they have added so much more - eggs, bread and goodies made in their own bakery, maple syrup, honey, fruits and veggies from local farms, homemade jams and salsas. We love to visit. The kids spend time collecting eggs and being chased by the geese and roosters. We check out the cows and pigs. And we visit with our friends who live and work on the farm.

Many thanks to all the local farmers who are creating these havens of sane, humane food production. Consider giving them your business.

Local Food

Caretaker Farm has been our CSA for many years now. I have enjoyed this year's harvest more than ever. I think part of the reason is that I have spent years mastering the cooking and putting-by of the bounty and now finally feel an ease and a "knowing" about the food. I find that I now use up each week's share, and hardly ever let a bag of mystery greens decompose in the vegetable drawer of the refrigerator. I have also found so much pleasure in being at the farm. We have so many friends there, and it is fun to see my kids spontaneously immersed in picking veggies or playing in the brook with other children.

The harvest is almost complete, and soon we will be on our schedule of monthly visits to the root cellar at Caretaker to collect onions, beets, carrots, and other assorted root vegetables - until they run out. It is always disorienting to me to have to buy things like onions or kale or carrots at the local food stores. At Caretaker I know where the food comes from, but at the store that isn't always the case. Fortunately, our local food co-op, Wild Oats, has made strides in getting the local harvest into the store through as much of the year as possible. I am hopeful that our food economy will continue to move in the direction of localized production and consumption. I truly believe that our health, and the planet's health, depend on this.