Snow Day (Well, sort of)

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Once upon a time, when there were just three little boys in my tiny little house, there were grand predictions of a big snow. I got those little boys all hyped up on the idea of snowballs and snow angels and snowmen. And then it snowed less than an inch. Those boys were so bummed. In an effort to make snowballs indoors, we popped some popcorn and introduced it to marshmallows. Very yummy fun. Like so many things, we did it once and it became a sort of tradition. I think there are children here who might just hope the forecast is wrong. They know the consolation prize for just a little snow.

Still, I'm wishing for a big snow. Really wishing.

Below is the recipe for popcorn snowballs and then a list of great books that will make even the most tropical among us hope for just a little "playable" snow.

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Popcorn Snowballs

2 sticks of butter, plus some to butter your hands

1 cup popcorn kernels 

1 bag mini marshmallows 

Pop 1 cup of popcorn kernels, set aside.

Melt both sticks of butter. Add marshmallows. Once marshmallows are melted, add the popcorn. Mix ingredients together. Butter your hands and then form the popcorn mixture into balls and set on a buttered baking sheet to cool. 

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The Snowy Day. Everyone loves Peter and his dog Willy and the adventures they have on a sweet snowy day.

The Story of the Snow Children The snowflakes are snow children who are swept into the Snow Fairy's kingdom on a winter day. You'll never look at swirling snow the same way again.

Flannel Kisses This one reminds me a little of Peter's Snowy Day above, but warmer and softer, I think.

Owl Moon A little girl and her father venture into the stillness of a winter's night and experience a lyrical, almost magical (but real) adventure.

My Brother Loved Snowflakes This is the true story of Wilson Bentley told through the eyes of his older brother. It's a wonderful companion to Snowflake Bentley. We love the both. Together:-).

Winter Days in the Big Woods I just ordered a new copy of this one for our library. My children have all loved, loved, loved Laura's stories come to life in these picture books. This one is a keeper and one to replace when it gets loved to death. 

A Farmer Boy Birthday See above. Love, love, love. Almanzo gets a new sled for his birthday. 

The Mitten (and The Hat) Beautifully illustrated whimsical stories in snow. These feature handknits and, well, there is just so much inspiration to be had here;-)!

Snowsong Whistling. Well worth the hunt. 

Snow Cynthia Rylant. I'm a big fan of Cynthia Rylant. This book lives up to my high expectations. The text is brief, but lyrical, and the author wrings meaning out of every drop of word. A little girl, her friend, and her grandmother appreciate an incredibly beautiful snowfall. 

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening. Read through this bpicture book, lingering on lovely illustrations, just for a few days in a row and suddenly, you and your children will have memorized Frost, so that his poetry comes to mind every time it snows, forever.

She inspires me.

You've gotta dance like there's nobody watching,

Love like you'll never be hurt,

Sing like there's nobody listening,

And live like it's heaven on earth.

~William W. Purkey

Because there are names and faces and stories...

The pro-life movement is not a political entity. It's an anthology. An anthology of stories of women who have made sacrificial choices over heart-wrenching objections. On occasion, I am priviliged to share stories here. Today, Ginny is sharing grace-filled stories. Do go visit. The stories call you.

needle & thREAD

Not much more to report here. Above, you can see the sum total of all the progress I've made on those flannel nightgowns. This Butterick pattern is marked "very easy." I cannot understand the directions. Cari came to my rescue and stepped me through the first few steps. Even she said those directions were hard to understand. I so, so wish that Oliver + S had a nightgown pattern. I'm seriously considering making these pjs for the other two girls. But I love granny gowns...

A few weeks ago, two different people from two completely different circles of my life suggested I read Brene Brown. I checked out her blog and read reviews on Amazon and then I downloaded the audio versions of the Gifts of Imperfection and Daring Greatly to my iPhone. I started with Gifts of Imperfection. I only listen when I'm at the gym. It's like a mini-retreat several times a week.

I really, really like Gifts of Imperfection. The slim volume is full of insight for people pursuing a "wholehearted" (the author's word) life. Some of her anecdotes were so spot-on it was eerie. And the Audible version is very well read. The problem with listening while working out is that I do get distracted. I start paying attention to heartrates and exertion levels and the lady two rows in front and three columns over who is running about 10 times harder and faster than I am. I'm definitely going to listen to it again. But... like so many books on Audible, I got the print version, too. I know that I want to highlight quotes and copy some of them into my journal. I just can't do that with the auditory version, especially while exercising. I really like auditory books; but I like to read them, too. Bad, I know.

What are you sewing and reading this week? I really do want to hear all about it!

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The Best Wine

As I was going into Mass Sunday morning, I saw a young mom struggling with a preschooler, a toddler, and a bulky, heavy infant seat. I helped her with the door and pushed away a now familiar pang. I know it is a struggle; that stage of parenting is super hard. But I liked it. No, I really, really loved it. Revelled in it. I miss it.

Last September, Mike and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary with a trip to northern California. It was Mike's idea--completely, totally, and 100% Mike's idea. He's been many times for business and he was certain I'd love it there. I was certain that I have a fear of airplanes and earthquakes and being very far from my children. I was certain that Sarah Annie was not going to be thrilled about weaning (despite the fact that she was absolutely old enough).  I was certain it was imprudent to plan any sort of trip out of town during the first week of the school year. He was gently insistent.

I was nervous, too. We'd never been away from our children for a whole week. Come to think of it, we'd never really spent a week together without him working since 1996. And that was the one vacation we'd taken in all our married life.  What if we got bored with each other? I knew that this season--the one begun when Michael's engagement coincided with the obvious fact that our baby days are over--was not the season I'd always lived in my dreams. That was the season just ending. What if I hated this season?

He wanted to start in Napa, in wine country. I didn't drink wine. What in the world was he thinking? I am the child who saw alcoholism up close and personal. Wine sets off buzzers and beepers and PTSD. Wine? Seriously?  He was thinking that I love agriculture, that I throw myself headlong into the land and I want to see it and smell it and touch it and taste it and... well, frankly winemaking is the total package. I was dubious.

But I said yes. One morning, under a deadline, I emailed him this column to proofread. And at the very end, I wrote "Let's go to San Francisco. I trust you."

So we did.

I know he worried as we drove away from the San Francisco airport. I tried to look cheerful, but my heart sunk. It was pretty ugly. But then, as we drew near to Sausalito,the cloud lifted and my soul soared. From that moment on, the trip was absolutely everything he'd hoped and so much more than I imagined. 

First, the whole wine thing was a huge success. I loved Napa valley. Just absolutely loved it. And, now, I kind of like wine, too. It's a hobby we share. From there, the trip just kept surprising me with joy. 

One night, in Monterey, after I'd skipped down Cannery Row (yes, really, skipped), and flitted through a Ghirardelli shop, and inhaled the beach at sunset (the first time I'd ever seen the sun set over the water), we had dinner outdoors. Actually, we ate outdoors almost every night, but on this night, I remember revelling in the idea that no matter how empty our house became, the "us"--Mike and me together--would be so full. And I think I was a little surprised.

So, last Sunday at Mass, when that familiar wave of want washed over me, I remembered sharing wine and conversation on the water in Monterey. I remembered that we did this, but I had a growing sense that there is true renewal in this season of life. The end of childbearing isn't the end; it's the beginning of something even deeper.

I nearly cried when Father began his homily by saying that the wine in the wedding at Cana is a symbol of joy and the wedding is analagous to marriage itself. He went on to explain that everyone expects the good wine at the beginning and so, too, everyone focuses on the giddy joy of the newly married years. For us, those were good years. And "giddy" is an excellent word for them. We worked super hard. We also giggled. A lot. 

Father went on to say that the bridal couple doesn't even notice as the joy begins to run out. It's the Blessed Mother who watches over the pair and it's she who points to the solution to the problem of lack. Do whatever he tells you. And then, everyone is surprised by the abundant excellent wine later in the wedding celebration. Later in marriage. There is this growing sense of forever joy. Forever.

Joy.

Fine, miraculous, consecrated, holy. Joy. 

We can drink deep and give thanks.