Saturday in the country

As opposed to last Saturday, when I was packing in art films, bookstores and city friends, today was all about Gillen and Jesse and their favorite things to do - which are much better done in the country.

Most Saturdays start with Gillen's archery class. He is getting really good. I admit to hoping that archery competitions, with their stuffed animals, end up enticing him more than real hunting. But then, I grew up in the city. Gillen thanks God he's a country boy.We bought books at the Scholastic book fair and then made our way to our local Rutledge May fair. There were country bands, barbecue, art booths and pony rides.

We got to visit Molly in her studio there and tell her how much we loved her newly published book, How the Caboose Came to Rutledge. She and her husband Ed owned our house before we did. Ed threw out his back while creating this house's second floor. The book is about him giving up the hammer and nails and deciding to buy a caboose. He did just this. Over ten years ago, Ed bought a sweet little red caboose and moved it to Rutledge in order to open an ice cream/ sandwich shop.

We got to see the original pages for the book framed on Molly's studio wall. Our house is in the book:
Then we went next door to The Caboose. I got homemade lemonade, Jesse had a double scoop cone and Gillen had a green and blue ice.
Next was bungie jumping.


Back home again, there was baseball (Jesse's latest self-proclaimed obsession):
My cousin Lake came to dinner.He played baseball, then football and helped Jesse for a while with the guitar.
It is now Sunday. The boys are out there gardening and I'm going to soak and then stuff our grape leaves with something good and serve them with greek salad for dinner. But we also have big sitting-on-the-couch-with-a-movie (or several) plans. I'm looking forward to that.

The Pool Boys

Gillen and Jesse spent over an hour today scrubbing the pool. All they asked of me was some help dumping the dirty water out of the buckets.
They finished up just in time for the Wilson brothers to join in on the next step.
Filling it up!

Inman Park Festival

There were beautiful booths, and wonderful company (the Traaseths, the Stonebrakers and a surprise appearance by the Epsteins).
But this year, as opposed to last year, I didn't see much of the parade. Gillen and those who were brave enough to withstand the heat and massive crowds saw plenty. I watched those watching:
And then turned around (in the artist's booth I was in with Alec) and watched the sculptures, who were watching something far far away:
I walked a few feet back to our friend Terry's house, looked up and watched Jesse and Ike staying cool in a tree:
and then cooling off closer to the earth.I also snuck a peek at the wee girl behind them. I wonder if that's how big Isha will be (my sister's new babe) when I see her next month.

Now, I'm ready to watch my boys fill up the pool (their favorite part of spring).

After days of rain,

vines burst forth,
the guys no longer slipped while shooting hoops,
and we were rewarded with an orchestra of color.

The massive rain had caused some turmoil at the farm as it washed away precious top soil. It kept me up for several nights, comforting storm-phobic Tuki-dog. There was a leak. There was some cabin fever.

Today, there was sun. Does looking at Wysteria, Dogwoods and Azaleas feel this way every spring?

Jesse found Wind in the Willows on his bookshelf today. After a few chapters he pronounced it "too poetic for his mood right now." : ) but not before I had read this:

Spring was moving in the air above and in the earth below and around him, penetrating even his dark and lowly little house with its spirit of divine discontent and longing.

It speaks to the way my yard made me feel today - especially the Wisteria. It is once again waking me up with its reinvention of purple. I want to memorize its softness, be just as vulnerable, remember that it isn't just this vine's mere two weeks of color that is impermanent. I want to notice the purple every day in my children. I want to see the moon in the sky in the daylight (even though I can't capture it very well for you here - it is there, floating an inch above the bowing Wisteria).

Did we just have nine inches of snow?

Just last Sunday, I was hunting for gloves and parkas, was helping frozen boys thaw out by the wood stove and was making hot chocolate.

Today, I brought Jesse out the easel and paints. He mixed up bright blues and pinks, suddenly over his "love of Goth".

Nicolas and Gillen did some spring deck cleaning and painting.
We kept throwing off our shoes.
And instead of snow balls, there were water balloons.

Nice.

While excitedly waiting for the big snow storm...

that isn't going to arrive here after all, we got a surprising break from the cold weather. It was a small preview of spring.Nicolas and Gillen were inspired to go out and do yard work. Here they are pruning the grape arbor.
(If you look very closely to the right of Nicolas' head you can see the Confederate flag - one of two- that hang boldly from the home across the street. This flag is one of many reasons for our tall Poplar tree, our untrimmed giant Azalea bushes and our full grape vines that create obstacles, when they are in season, to the view of our neighbors. )

Ground was re-broken, around the beautiful thriving onion trees from Sandra, for a future Spring bed of vegetables. There will be many more beds this year, in our backyard farm. I want in on the action too.
The biggest sign of spring around here - the daffodils:

Last night, I was sitting with my laptop in the living room thinking about doing some writing but really just exploring facebook when Jesse walked in and sat down next to me.

"Do you want to write something and I'll type it up for you?" I asked, having neglected to do this for a few years now. He used to write great stories this way. But he writes plenty on his own. As much as I like to think I inspire them to do things, Gillen and Jesse do find all kinds of inspiration on their own - like this morning when I found Jesse writing a letter to a panda we know in Australia. It is difficult for Rosalinafini to write to her sister Louisafini with such big paws (not to mention new glasses) so she asked Jesse to write the letter for her.
Though it is good that I don't suggest too often (with my kids, this can be a way to get them to leave the room) I am glad that I asked last night. Here is part of what he wrote:

Candles flickered in the dim light of May. All was quiet. The children were fast asleep. The flowers whistled in the moonlight. The dog paced back and forth. A single light was lit in the kitchen...

And indeed, the flowers must have whistled in the moonlight because we seem to have woken up to a unexpected day from May. Nice. Though we'd still like one snow storm.

The Inman Park Festival

After spending a few hours at the Morningside Farmers Market this morning, we went to the annual Inman Park Festival, held in the neighborhood where, 15 years ago, Nicolas and I slung hash (as my Grandmother Simone would derisively call our work as waiters), and fell in love. We looked today for the first house I lived in there and it had burned to the ground. But there was no time to be nostalgic. There was a gourmet lunch to be had at Shaun's, an amazing Inman Park restaurant where Nicolas sells his vegetables, and we had an indescribable (though I'll try) parade to watch.

This is an equal opportunity festival - as exhibited by the range of characters we saw on our way to Shaun's. There was a fundamentalist calmly, but unrelentingly, extolling us to read our bibles:And a witch made her way towards our path, where she silently fell in synch. with two red-headed Weasley types in matching sweaters.

Looking at the special festival menu at Shaun's:
We get so excited when the farm is mentioned on a menu! It's in the appetizers - the arugula on flatbread with shaved cheese (it says ricotta but it is usually parmesan) So good:



Full of good food and drink, we ran to find our usual spot to watch the parade (except for years when soccer games have taken precedence -I'm unashamedly happy to be on soccer hiatus) in front of our friend Terry's house. Terry has a security bull horn with which he announces upcoming parade sights. These floats, marching bands and acts beg for some explanation. Though there were some regular old talented high school marching bands, a Chinese dragon, a local Brownie troop and floats about local schools pushing for peace, or going green - these were the only usual parade sights.

The "Marching Abominable" band led the parade. I kept looking at some of these people and imagining what they normally look like, say on their way to work. Don't you love observing a regular guy on the bus and wondering if this(or maybe lounge singing, Civil War reenactment, horror movie directing, or stripping) could be his other life?


At one point, a horn player in front of me, looking anxious about her instrument's weight, slowly let her arm fall, and then, let her body fall, following her horn, face down, to the ground:
Actually, all of the "Abominables" fell into a deep sleep, for several minutes, before they were revived by a few musicians with wands. It was something!

Yes, Jesse, there is, after all, a tooth fairy:



Here is that sweet brownie troop, to bring you back to earth. I was that red-headed Brownie pictured here towards the right, many moons ago in Boston. I remember being at Brownies the day we pulled out the troops from Vietnam. Will these girls be at Brownies on the day we leave Iraq? Lets hope they aren't already Girl-scouts (I walked over the "girl-scout bridge" in some ceremony but never did follow up).






A few peace floats later, we had the Mayor of Atlanta, Shirley Franklin.





And then it was back to colorful, creative, crazy Inman Park Festival business as usual. If you have time, you really should click on these below and take a closer look:
As I said, equal opportunity prevailed. The kids got frisbees from a Presbyterian church, "go-green" disks, candy from the politicians (lots of those), and the pieces of wooden boards that the Karate school split with their hands in front of them.

Thankfully, they didn't notice the condoms that were thrown to we grown folks from the Planned Parenthood car (or they might have thought they were gum or a lollypop and tried eating them ;).

There was so much more - roller derby girls, Trees Atlanta, who conserve and plant trees), sequined, high-heeled show girls, and the young "in-training abominable marching band", Harry Potter fans... But it is time to sleep now, as tomorrow is another day of play away from our simple surroundings - this time at a Slow Food Event at a farm.

Sweet Home

On our way out the door yesterday, we realized that the roof was leaking. We soaked up the water from the floor, put out bowls to catch the continuing drips, and escaped for the newer house of our Atlanta friends. It isn't a huge leak, but it is the beginning of revisiting the roof we had thought we'd taken care of years ago.

We are in an old house. There will always be something we need to fix. It will possibly never be warm enough for me in the winter. We will probably always have to drive at least thirty minutes if we want to eat out or meet friends or see a movie. We will have to repaint it again in a year or so.

I have never lived anywhere this long. I had never known what goes into a home.

Each of the past ten years, while the subtly sinking foundation has caused tiny cracks in the walls I'd painted, our kitchen doorway has been further covered with lots of children's indelibly marked new heights. Every Spring, the Daffodils, Irises, Dogwoods and Azaleas have further enveloped us in their (mostly) untempered glory.

This year, roots are more literally taking hold. Gillen and Jesse have started a backyard farm. Gillen's bird garden from last year is being expanded.
There is enough going on in our back yard for Gillen to have been inspired today to create a sign post that leads guests around "the grounds".
Thank God for Netflix, warm sweaters and visitors. I think we may be here a while.