SouleMama

december sun

I'm quietly lingering this morning in the sunshine streaming down upon us, the art that surrounds us everywhere we look for it, and the love that flows when we gather.

Wishing you all of that today too, friends. 

:: right now ::

Right now, I am...

:: drinking hot tea to warm up from the chilly morning.

:: hearing a blend of Tchaikovsky from the library, Johnny Cash from the kitchen, and Beth Orton in my studio. (Oh my.)

:: nursing a small knitting injury in hopes that it will heal quickly so I can get back at it. (It's December!)

:: reminding myself about all the other handwork I love that uses other muscles. 

:: thinking it's very funny that I even have a knitting injury. Who says knitting isn't a sport? 

:: doing my best to quiet the noise of my active inbox, with deals and sales and prompts to buy, buy, buy.

:: keeping the focus this time of year on simple and special. Simple & special. 

:: loving the tiny bit of merry making we've begun around the house.

:: wanting to find our tree today.

:: plotting the making of Annabel's holiday stocking. I think cross stitch.

:: feeling incredibly grateful (and pleased with myself) that I got the annual holiday card photo yesterday in three minutes flat with nary a tear or pinch or tongue sticking out....and a whole lot of fun was had to boot.

:: preparing a room for company tonight. I love (grown up) sleepovers.

:: looking forward to a walk in the woods with a friend later today, dreaming and collaborating together.

:: pulling roasted tomatoes from the freezer for dinner tonight. A tiny bit of summer feels nice. 

:: looking forward to seeing and hearing our friends make music this weekend (Elizabeth Mitchell and family at One Longfellow Square, for you local Portland, Maine folks).

:: enjoying sharing December once again with the amazing women of habit, and all of the 2012 contributors.

:: hoping for grace, patience and an open heart in the 'everyday' day that lies ahead.

:: wishing the very same for you. 

{this moment}

. . . . . . . . . . 

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. 

If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

. . . . . . . . . . 

at the table

11.22.2012, 2:00pm

On the table, cranberry sauce, turkey, chicken stew, pumpkin bread, caramelized sweet potatoes, onion casserole, sweet potato biscuits, roasted beets, sauerkraut, brussels sprouts au gratin, green beans, walnut sausage stuffing, mashed potatoes, mushroom and pomegranate barley salad.

At the table, we gather for a thanksgiving feast. The sun shines brightly through our windows and we rejoice in a day we can share comfortably out of doors with visiting friends. I think of and miss my grandmother as I iron linens in the kitchen - entirely unnecessary, but it felt so good to do. Annabel draws at out feet in the kitchen, so happy to be in the middle of it all. There is much talk of the "biggest" turkey on this Soule farm, harvested the day before, which turned out - under all that fluff and feathers - to be a whopping eight pounds. (To feed sixteen.) And so we laugh, make a chicken stew and one more side, and are grateful for each delicious and blessed bite of that turkey we have. We comfortably spill over to a second table for the kids who choose to be there (they all want to be there). There is birthday singing. Woody Guthrie on the radio. Whiskey in the hands of big ones, cider in the hands of littles. Friends we haven't seen in a very long time, friends we are just meeting, and so much love. After dinner, we leave the table just as it is to walk in the woods, orange-speckled gang of loud folks that we are. The birthday boy is in a quiet state of bliss to be in his woods with his people. Upon our return, more feasting happens and pies appear, and thanksgiving continues just as long as we can let it last. In the morning, a few dishes remain on the table, but we linger in the cleanup, holding on just a moment more to the day spent in friends, food, gratitude and joy. 

(Last time, at the table.)

w e e k e n d i n g

I hope you, too, are in the midst of a lovely weekend, wherever it may bring you!

{this moment}

. . . . . . . . . . 

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. 

If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

. . . . . . . . . . 

{this moment}

. . . . . . . . . . 

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. 

If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

. . . . . . . . . . 

{this moment}

. . . . . . . . . . 

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. 

If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

. . . . . . . . . . 

autumn into winter

So it wasn't exactly the Nor'easter some were talking about coming in these parts, but we did wake up to snow. Not just any snow, but the First Snow!  And because I'm the Mama, and Mama's get to do such things as this, I declared today an official Snow Day. Home from our regularly scheduled activities and plans, instead we'll celebrate the coming of winter, nurse a little bit of the sniffles upon us, and stitch, bake, read, and play. There were no objections from my babes, nor any surprise, really, when I made the announcement. They had already declared snow angels, snowpeople and sledding the work of the day.

Hello, Winter! 

at the table

11.7.2012, 4:35pm

On the table: dinner plates that have been set for over half an hour by my boys who believe 'if you set the table, food will come'; two late library books that didn't make it back with the rest of the bunch this afternoon; three lone eggs from our hens who are taking a bit of a fall laying break; my wool scarf and my treasured felco pruners (for lefties!) from a quick and cold dash to the garden for chard; a very unseasonable but tasty cucumber martini with the last of the cucumber infused vodka we made this summer; jasmine rice and a one-pot roast chicken and vegetables.

At the table, an early dinner is waiting. Just one hour is the daylight savings difference, but we seem to all feel it at dinnertime this week. Early dinners, early bedtimes - the new wintry groove. Five very hungry bears are in the kitchen, two sitting and drumming with their forks, while the other two are pirouetting around the kitchen to ABBA, perhaps not the most calming before dinner choice, but their choice nonetheless. Annabel (in the learning tower which has momentarily replaced the high chair at the table because this girl just wants to stand and climb) pours her water from bowl to cup and back again. I know it won't all be contained within, but she's happy, and engaged - spilled water is just fine.  We're all waiting for Papa to come inside. He's putting a new roof on the garden shed before the snow comes, and using every last minute of daylight tonight to do so. There's excitement in the air about the snow and the election, hunger in their bellies, and ants, as they say, in everybody's pants. Harper opens the kitchen door to ring the dinner bell one more time for Steve, with Adelaide hot on his heels to shout "it's not a false alarm! Dinner is REALLY ready!". The boys turn off the music, clear the last little things off the table, and slide into their seats. As I hear Steve's footsteps walking through the barn, I wipe a bit of the water that's creeped over to my plate from the little lady, and sit down with deep sigh. Dinner is on the table before everyone is grouchy and messy-hungry, and it's a meal that I know everyone loves. Nobody has broken anything in the setting of this table, and there have been no tears. No fighting, no injuries, no harsh words spoken. Small, but oh-so-important victories in family life. As we all finally sit down together and take a moment to pause before our blessing, I breathe in and out the fullness of this day at home and feel the gratitude at what's all around me. 

(Last time, at the table.)

{this moment}

. . . . . . . . . . 

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. 

If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

. . . . . . . . . . 

{this moment}

. . . . . . . . . . 

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. 

If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

. . . . . . . . . . 

{this moment}

. . . . . . . . . . 

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. 

If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

. . . . . . . . . . 

autumn w e e k e n d i n g

Happy Weekend, all! 

{this moment}

. . . . . . . . . . 

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. 

If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

. . . . . . . . . . 

weekend doings

I hope yours is wonderful too!

{this moment}

. . . . . . . . . . 

{this moment} 

A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. 

If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

. . . . . . . . . . 

{this moment}

. . . . . . . . 

{this moment} 

A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

. . . . . . . . .

heading out

A little bit tired from all we've done, but even more inspired by all we've seen and heard, we wrap up this year's Common Ground fair. Now this morning, we embark on another journey deep into the woods for rest, play, and more adventure. Away from power lines and any kind of reception, I'll be away from this space for just a few days, back to join you here on Friday for {this moment}.

I wish you all a most lovely week!

from the fair

It's been such a wonderful Common Ground Country Fair for our family, and for Taproot. So very different than our usual time here, and yet so wonderful at the same time. It's been a pleasure to share the booth for moments with our wandering-by contributors Jennifer Judd-McGee, Meredith Winn, Shannon Hayes, Rachael Miller and Steve Soule. And just as special to share it with readers and friends new and old as well. Though I believe it in my heart always, I am grateful for the reminder in the faces of folks we meet here that there is far more that connects us all as people than divides. On common ground we stand, indeed.

(We're here for one more day! If you happen to be coming by on Sunday, please say hi - we're just outside the social and political action tent.)

{this moment}

. . . . . . . .

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see

. . . . . . . . .

harbingers

We had our first frost last night, which meant that yesterday afternoon was a scramble of harvesting, bringing in, and preserving as much as we could. The pantry shelves are filling.

There are leaves falling everywhere, calling to be raked up and kept for garden mulch.

The empty woodshed that we fretted about all summer long - trying to get to filling it up - somehow, magically (one tree, one swing of the axe at a time, I suppose) is beginning  to resemble something close to 'ready' for the season that lies ahead.

And everywhere we look, the harbingers of autumn appear in front of us. The air is crisp. The wool is all around us!  And this very weekend, our family's official marking of the season will be done with our annual and always-anticipated trip to the Maine Organic Farmers and Gardeners Association Common Ground Country Fair (2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, oh my!). Except this time, with a Taproot booth for Mama to tend, we will be there for many days, with a bit of a work retreat and family vacation of sorts to follow. We're all very excited. 

Should you find yourself at The Fair this week (oh, you really should come if it's close enough to you - it's such a special place), please come by and say hello. Jason and I, and some combination of our spouses, children, and contributors will be there all weekend long. We'll be in the Media area, in between the MOFGA merchandise tent, and all that delicious food, beside the Social and Political Action tent. 

And for those of you not so close, stay tuned. I'm hopeful that my plans to bring the fair to you here in this space will come to fruition. 

Wishing you all much joy as you greet your favorite harbingers of the season that lies ahead!

:: right now ::

Right now, I am....

:: rising from under the down comforter for the first time this season, as autumnal weather is upon us at night.

:: riding the wave of goodness that comes after any time at Squam Art Workshops, even if only for a day (the Art Fair was wonderful - and it was such a treat to meet so many of you - thank you for saying hello!).

:: hearing Harper proudly ride his bicycle without training wheels (a new weekend discovery) up and down the drive, shouting at the top of his lungs, "I wish that I had Jessie's Girl!" his favorite song of the moment.

:: smelling oatmeal and applesauce wafting from the kitchen where Papa is cooking first round breakfast for the late risers (third round for the early birds).

:: wanting to go apple picking this week.

:: squeezing the last bits of summer out of the garden as tomatoes, basil and cucumbers still happily roll in.

:: freezing, canning, and freezing and canning some more.

:: brewing up some 'kraut in my new birthday gift of a crock, from my people who decidedly do not like cabbage, but must love me very much.

:: loving the flurry of activity that's happening these days in her studio.

:: feeling grateful for being on the upswing from The Cough.

:: listening to a lot of Sun, Cat Power's new album (and really, really liking it).

:: making lists for me, lists for the farm, lists for work, and lists for the kids in preparation for our upcoming work/play vacation - our very first since moving to the farm exactly two years ago.

:: counting the days until we're all at the fair.

:: diving into this, our second week in our new fall rhythm, with much hope and intention for peace, grace, and gentleness as we go about it all.

:: wishing you the same, and a most lovely day!

{this moment}

. . . . . . . .

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

. . . . . . . .

{this moment}

. . . . . . . .

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

. . . . . . . .

{this moment}

. . . . . . . .

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

. . . . . . . .

at the table

8.29.12, 6:35pm

On the table: dinner plates and napkins waiting to be set out; Adelaide and Harper's art from the day waiting to be moved; a game of Set in action; today's harvest of tomatoes that didn't fit into the dinner pot; and my great grandmother's (now broken) rolling pin on its way to the workshop where I hope it will have a proper fix and come back to me right away (there's some consolation in knowing that my grandmother and mother both would forgive me knowing that I broke it crushing ice for magaritas).

At the table, my three boys wait patiently for a late dinner. It's a quiet(er) one than usual with just five of us, as one sister sleeps early and the other enjoys a sleepover. We've just compromised on the music we're listening to - between The Lumineers and B.O.B., we landed on Spearhead. Calvin says I can share his picture on the blog just so long as I get the shot of his (fake) tattoo in here. Ezra narrates the game in pig latin. Harper is reminding us all that soon he'll be jumping on a trampoline in gymnastics class (four weeks away). Tomatoes have been slow roasting in the oven, and  sausage cooks on the stovetop, all to be placed over pasta just as soon as Papa comes in from doing evening chores. With all of us right here, there won't be a dinner bell. But the hot food coming off the stove will be the call to action they've all been waiting for as plates and napkins are spread out, water is delivered, candles lit, and we all sit down to dinner. We'll pause for a moment of peace to bless the meal and give thanks to each other. And then we'll share our evening meal, together, here at the table.

(Last time, at the table.)

{this moment}

. . . . . . . .

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

at the table

8.12.12, 7:15am

On the table, Harper waits patiently for his breakfast with sleepy eyes and watercolors - a stack of finished pictures at his side (including the one titled "Mama with a Big Face"). Adelaide joins with a horse tucked under her arm and a costume book by which she's planning her halloween attire that she'd like to sew today. Annabel prefers her fingers to the spoon for oatmeal. I forgot the flour in the dutch baby (yes, there are only three ingredients), but so far, no one has mentioned it. Last night's basket of eggs still sits at the end of the table, and an empty harvest basket waits for a break in this morning's rain to gather the rest of the beans for freezing. There are flowers. Frente is on the iPod.  And there is tea with honey, lemon and ginger for all as a summer cold has taken up residence in all of our lungs. My pile - a book, some knitting, a journal - remains as evidence of the quieter moments my day began with. 

As the kettle whistles, oatmeal cooks and eggs bake, slowly they make their way into the kitchen on this sleepy, dark, rainy morning - one by one, youngest to oldest, as happens to be the order today.

And in this way, and at this table, our day together begins.

(Last time, at the table.)

{this moment}

. . . . . . . .

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.