Tag: waldorf

Happy at Home

Posted in An Ongoing Journal..., Farm Life, Waldorf Life3 Comments

Elihu has had a fever on and off for the past few days. Reminiscent of his very first day at Waldorf last spring; on his first day of the new school year I was called by the school nurse to come and administer his nebulizer treatment (as I’d not yet gotten this year’s doctor’s slip) and I ended up taking him home instead. He stayed home today too, and good thing. His sleep was deep and long, his fever only breaking just this morning. This needed to be a day of rest. He’d been going non-stop with his father for weeks and had come home with little time to adjust to the new school year. My intention was to give him a day with nothing to do but feel better.

Well, kind of. I did have a secret agenda for the day which seemed like it might work well with my kid confined to the home. I had a pile of clothes to go through which a friend (with boys just ahead of Elihu) had dropped off recently. A boon to be sure, but there was still some labor involved in assimilating and using it all. Not everything would work; the piles had to be gone through. Not all would be the right size; some were too big and would need to be put in bins for next year (and clearly marked so as not to overlook them until they were then too small!), some weren’t quite his style (shirts that advertise ‘Nike’, ‘The Gap’  and that feature the ‘life is good’ stick figure playing baseball aren’t really a match) and some he can wear right away. It just takes some time to assess what’s what. And in a little house like ours there’s only so much room; one can only keep what one will really and truly use.

We did this for about twenty minutes, until Elihu hit a wall. I don’t blame him, I kinda knew I was pushing it. In his incredibly convincing adolescent girl routine, he flung himself onto his bed and wept, and then in his incredibly self-aware young adult persona he paused from his drama to explain to me that he needed to simply cry and be angry right now, he apologized for doing so, and then promptly resumed his performance. I in turn apologized, thanked him for helping as much as he did, then left the room to give him some space.

After a while I came back to check on him. He wanted a hug. I gave it freely. He seemed pooped. Still not himself. I offered to read him a story. He told me he’d like that. After the story was finished, we lay there on his bed for a moment, shifting gears, and then got up and had lunch.

As I cleaned up the lunch dishes, Elihu put on his glasses and headed outside. After I’d finished in the kitchen, I followed him out to the coop to see about some fixes I’d been meaning to get around to for a while now. The weather couldn’t have been more perfect. The air just right, on the warmish end but not too bad – that is to say no mosquitoes hanging around – and a nice breeze blowing through. As I began my work in the coop, Elihu began his work of chasing chickens. It was kinda cute to see him zipping past – first right, then left, whizzing by in pursuit of a fast-moving bird. We’d check in with each other every now and then, sometimes stopping what we were doing, each seeking out the other and simply meeting in a hug. Wordless, or perhaps with a simple “I love you” we’d part and go back to our respective projects. It was a productive day for me as I’d finally gotten around to the outdoor to-do list I’d put off for too long now; I zip-tied holes in the fences, screwed planks along the perimeter of the coop bottom to deter under-the-coop-laid-eggs (as well as hunkered down raccoons and such), fixed the timer that opens and closes the coop door, installed a couple new nesting boxes and did a half dozen other little things – all of which added up to a couple hours work.

All this time Elihu was in his own heaven. Birds everywhere, birds tame enough to hold, wild enough to chase, varied enough to be beautiful and fascinating each in its own unique way… And with each of us so close by to the other, yet each of us each so engrossed in our own work, it made for the most perfect afternoon. An afternoon of love, security, joy – and even progress. We enjoyed ourselves thoroughly. We’d take a moment out, pick up a bird, sit together side by side on an overturned milk crate and spend a full ten minutes marveling over all of its wonderful qualities. The variation from bird to bird is really impressive, and neither one of us is ever bored of bearing witness to it. We admired nearly every bird in the flock; at the end of the day we’ve handled, smooched, praised and thanked nearly thirty birds. Especially the young roosters who will go to the Amish butcher this week. (This is about as long as we can know them and still hand them over…) We know we have one mature rooster too many, but as we’ve had him for over a year now (his name his Judson) we cannot bring ourselves to butcher him too. The young ones go easier…And it’s these quiet, one-on-one moments we share with each doomed fellow that make it easier for us to let them go. They live a good life, and they die a quick death, and they receive our deepest gratitude. As farm animals go, it’s a sweet life.

The hours pass by and it is perfect. Every now and then I try to look up and around at my world; I see the spread of the beech tree branches, the canopy of the white pines, the view of the pale blue mountains beyond. The air is perfect. We are in no hurry. This is a day where not a thing is expected of us. And on account of once having lived a life where there really was a whole lot expected of me, it makes me treasure this moment even more. It’s a good thing to know the companionship of animals, to know the outside air, and to be blessed with unscheduled time – and to experience all of it with my young son makes it even better.

We even got around to burying out old pets today. They’ve been in the freezer for a while now. Some months, and well, yes, some even years. We have our three-legged leopard gecko Sweets – who’d come with us four years ago from Chicago and who’d had her leg amputated by a very kind and generous vet who did it gratis – as our situation was then fresh and dire – and she’d meant a lot to us. When she finally died, the ground was frozen, so we simply put her aside to bury later. Her sister, Stripes is there too. Died on Christmas day of a bored, tank-confined heart. (She got the best gift ever, in my opinion.) Then oh! Here’s King George!! Our beloved button quail. He lived free-of-cage in our house for over a year, every night making his surprisingly loud mating calls sadly to no avail… he pooped very courteously in one corner only, and he was a good companion to a six year old boy. (There are a couple of pics of them together in an album on Facebook which you can see for yourself.) And of course, there is Molly. The white hen who started this whole business. The cute little yellow chick that we found absolutely irresistible as we passed through Tractor Supply ‘just looking’ one Easter season.

I’d dug the deepest hole I could – and it wasn’t big, cuz digging in this particular corner of Greenfield is a job rife with rocks – and we planned on nestling all our little guys in there together. “With white cloth or on dirt?” I asked Elihu. “White cloth”, he answered. He put Molly down first, after we’d admired her peacock necklace and thanked her especially, then the others went in around her. “You know the white cloth is just for us. This whole thing is just for the living – you know that, right?” I said. He nodded. I said a general thanks to all of them for coming into our lives, and I apologized for the things we may have done to cause them distress. Then I told Elihu we should each take a fistful of dirt and put it in to begin the burial. He told me to wait – he needed to say something. Then, in the earnestness that can really only yet be found in a child, he kneeled down and pressed his hands together. He spoke for a while, basically saying what I had, but adding a whole bunch more. (He kinda reminded me of his paternal grandmother – always offering these ten minute long blessings at the start of a keenly-anticipated meal. !) Then, feeling ready, he let me shovel in the dirt. We marked the spot with some large rocks, then placed a couple of daisies on top. We hardly even paused; it was over, and we’d concluded the chapter the best and most fitting way we could. On to more life now.

We meandered down to check on our garden, which by now was reduced to a handful of plants; some tomatoes, peppers and beans. Elihu had pilfered some dried beans from his handwork class at Waldorf and brought them home in hopes they’d germinate. Germinate they did, and so we planted them here. Tonight they yielded just about enough for supper. We harvested an enormous, bright red cayenne pepper too, but learned that someone had beat us to the tomatoes, trimming off all the upper branches, leaving us just a few green ones close to the bottom. Maybe we really do need an electric fence next year. After all, we mean to do this right, and so far this garden has hardly been anything but a rather unsuccessful experiment. Gleaning a handful of a crop ‘every week or so’ wasn’t what we had in mind. Guess a true farmer can’t just get up and go to the Cape for a week, can they now? We’d missed a key week of watering and weeding and were seeing the results. Plus, going fence-free didn’t help. With our dinner in our hands – or rather, in one of my hands – we headed back up the hill.

I find some leftovers and heat em up, and I cook the beans. I’ve got a glass of wine left too; we have the makings of a nice, simple dinner. Tonite it’s kind of a white-trash kinda night; we’ll watch some show on cable about fellas scuba diving for gold in the frozen Bering Straight while we eat. We don’t watch a whole lot of tv – and when we do it’s usually while we eat. I know that’s not a great habit – but even that’s not so much a habit as it is a treat. Just as we finish eating, a truck pulls in… it’s a student of mine and her dad here to return a metronome and to say they’d like to start lessons again when they figure out their new fall schedules. It’s nice to see them again and to hear about their summer. Elihu whisks Katie away to look for frogs as her dad and I chat, but soon it’s time to go. It’s been a long day and we still have to close our birds in for the night. Goodbyes and good nights follow as they pull away and we go out to evening coop duty.

The automatic coop door opener is working again. Maybe all it needed was to be re-set. Who knows. But the door is closed, and all the birds have roosted. Even Max got back into the swing of an automated coop and got himself in before the little door closed. Now we have to close and lock the big door. But not before we count them all, and certainly not before we play ‘musical chickens’. When you simply touch the back of a resting chicken, he or she will emit a little sound – a little ‘whirring’ noise of surprise. Each a bit different; some coo low, some chirp high, and when you get going it’s kinda like a little bird orchestra. Elihu has fun with it. Then he stops, and the place gets quiet again. Head count. Twenty-eight chickens, six of whom are roosters (and going next Friday), one helmeted guinea fowl named Austin whom we love very much and who adds loads of comic charm to the place, and finally, the largest of our flock, Maximus, the Lavender Ice Goose. Thirty birds in all. For now. Elihu and I just stand there, looking, unable to walk away. Soft cooing and gurgling sounds surround us. It’s a peaceful place to be, here in our chicken coop. I know Elihu is feeling very proud right now. I am too. Honestly, it’s not as if we have some special talent here, but what we do have is a group of animals whom we care for responsibly, and whom we love, and of that we have pride.

Our night isn’t quite over. We want to enjoy our screen porch, and Elihu wants to enjoy some time in the darkness when he is free of having to wear dark glasses just to exist. I light all the candles until the porch glows. I sit and watch as he plays. He locates a long piece of PVC which once served as a drainpipe, and he begins to play it like a didgeridoo. Sounds pretty good. He looks around for crickets or mice (he wants a mouse to replace the one he found outside today and then let go by accident inside the house! Sorry, that lil guy’s showing up again tomorrow morning – in a trap…) He runs around back inside and flicks a light on and off, faking it’s a ghost, then asks me if I’d seen it too… Things get silly, then they wind down as I’ve drawn a bath and we need to get down to business. Candles out, pipe down, clothes off.

Elihu enjoys a much longer bath than I’d intended, as I sit down to write a much longer post than I’d intended. He’s certainly old enough to get himself out and dried off, and mostly that’s what he does these days, but in that we’ve had such a day of togetherness, when he calls to me to come and help, I do. Soon he’s in bed. Too pooped for stories tonight. Instead, the room is dark right away. I lie next to him, and lying on his side, he puts his hand on my face. “This was a great day” he says. I agree. We kiss, then lay back down. Oh so soon he is deeply asleep. So am I. It’s not til halfway through the night that I awake to finish the post. But now it’s back to bed for me too.

What a day we had. Such a very happy day at home.

Resuming the Resume

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Have an informal audition of sorts tomorrow at Elihu’s school. They need another accompanist for the Eurythmy classes. It actually sounds right up my alley. Music, kids, some improvisation, a sense of play about the task at hand… but I need to remember it is a job, and I have to nail some things just so. Gotta listen, gotta be flexible and need to wait on instruction. Lots of stops and starts to the job. It’s tricky to get twenty little bodies all to move in a certain way. And the music keeps it all goin. Never done anything quite like this with little ones, and truthfully I’m just a bit nervous that I won’t be a fit. But I’m turning out to be a bit more excited about it than I realized at first. It sounds like fun. Is that ok that a job appeals primarily because it sounds like ‘fun‘? Yes, I think so. At least here, at Waldorf, it’s certainly an environment that would welcome that kind of thinking.

Then of course, I might be just a little jacked about it because I just threw a rather impromtu resume together and I got a kick out of seeing it all on paper. Well then. Seems I’d forgotten how impressive my life can appear in list form. We all know the resume game – and yes, somehow it always reads better and sounds more impressive than it usually was in real life, but as I read my list of jobs through the years and think back on them, I can say with some pride that they’re represented truthfully. And they were all fun, challenging, and each one in its own way helped to create the person I’ve become today. Maybe I pushed the envelope a bit when I added some of my interests, including flying, homesteading and being a good mother. Does anyone really care? Maybe it sounds a little pretentious. But it’s the truth. And these days, that’s how I want to represent myself. The days of super-slick strategizing are behind me.

But hopefully, more working days lay yet ahead and may resume again soon…

Guest, Host

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Can’t remember taking such a long time between posts til now. Life has been a flurry of activity this past week. Elihu and I have been the guests of others as we traveled, and now we ourselves have house guests. After we returned from our most recent trip, we had a day to unpack, do laundry and get our house ready for visitors; a mother and daughter have come here from Paris to stay for a couple of weeks. The young girl is almost six, and she and Elihu are fast friends. Both are precocious and as I like to say, ‘fully loaded’ children. As soon as we picked them up at the train station and got them into the back seat, they chattered away nonstop on the drive home. Yesterday they passed several hours in our little pond catching frogs and then spent a few hours inside playing with good old-fashioned toys. I was happy to see them on the living room floor creating a world of  their own with plastic animals, toy cars and blocks. My heart is happy to report that not one video monitor of any sort has been involved in their play. Currently this is a true Waldorf home indeed. The mother herself is in the final stretch of Waldorf training in France, and her daughter starts Waldorf school this fall, and of course, young Master Elihu is very much looking forward to his first, full year beginning this September. A week ago he asked me when school started; he told me he could hardly wait. !

I await my turn in the bathroom now, so finally I have some time to write. I’m not used to having two more people here; it takes much longer to get the troops mobilized. Our guests are staying in Elihu’s room – and while it’s not a problem for us in any way, it does require one slow down and make space for others, as well as modify one’s usual routine. I planned ahead, taking clothes from his drawers and keeping them in my room, so we’re fine, but we’re four folks in a small space, something I readily admit I’m not usually great with. Probably why I don’t enjoy being on the road with a band. Not a lot of personal space. And I’m accustomed to quite a lot of it. (I wouldn’t fare well in urban Japan.) Yet even though we both love our quiet, this little injection of human energy in our tiny home is actually quite nice.

I can’t possibly report on all the magical events of our last trip, but I’ll try to recall some highlights…

We enjoyed a comfortable stay with a family in New Jersey. It was a treat to have meals made and to be relieved of the daily chores of home and farm. Elihu and the two kids had a fabulous time together. We went to the pool where Elihu, emboldened by the presence of the other two kids, was finally able to go in water without any assistance (floatie or human), we went to a zoo, we held birds, and Elihu got some dedicated boy time while I was whisked away to a hair salon for a new ‘do with the girls.

I ran into a woman I’d known from grade school years back in Wilmette, Illinois while walking along the sidewalk of a tiny, oceanside town in New Jersey. Haven’t seen her in over twenty years and a thousand miles, and yet here we both were. Crazy. And in this same town – where my mother herself spent part of her ninth summer – Elihu finally learned what the ocean was in earnest. The waves were so big we were told by the lifeguards not to go in beyond our knees – but the temptation was too great for most of us, and soon we were riding waves the size of which I haven’t seen in years. Elihu, who’d started his visit by vehemently declaring he would get nowhere near the surf, was now mesmerized. By the salt, the ceaseless churning, the way the sand sucked out from beneath his feet when the waves retreated – the whole thing. He ended the day a most enthusiastic convert. I was thrilled that he finally knew. It really is one of my life’s most cherished experiences, and my heart rested happy knowing that Elihu now knew it for himself. I love our little corner of the world, but if I could live near an ocean, I would.

Finally, we made a pilgrimage to Passaic, New Jersey to see the neighborhood in which my father had grown up. Elihu and I were invited inside a home in my father’s old neighborhood (very nearly identical to dad’s, only in reverse; dad’s house was razed in the 80s to make way for a twenty story apartment building) so that Elihu might see how his grandfather had lived when he was a boy. A different time to be sure; there had been a button on the floor in the dining room on which the lady of the house could step, thereby ringing a bell in the kitchen to alert ‘cook’ to come and clear. The woman who lived there recounted how when they’d first moved in, her children had run around the furniture-less house and had made the bell ring so much that it finally expired. Just as well; grand home though it may still be, long gone are the days when cook brings in the next course. (My mother loves to tease my father about growing up with the dining room button – she likes to joke that hers must be broken.) After generously showing us around the first floor of the house, our kind hostess showed us to the grand front door through which we exited. We walked slowly down the steps, trying to imagine ourselves some seventy five years ago on this same spot. Elihu was greatly impressed by the house, and he wondered aloud, almost in tears of frustration (no exaggeration) what this neighborhood must have looked like in his grandfather’s time. We tried to imagine the towering elm trees, the ‘old-timey’ cars moving more slowly down the avenue, we tried to cover our hands over the tall apartment buildings that had begun to take over… we did our very best to try and conjure the scene. It was just what Elihu needed. He’s begun to feel a bit of apprehension at his grandfather’s diminishing condition, and he wants to know all he can about how he grew up. This was a fine end to our trip.

So now I’m home, my head not really able to linger over the images and experiences of the past few weeks. Things keep chugging along, requiring my attention and presence. Tomorrow Fareed arrives to pick Elihu up for the remainder of the summer. He’ll stay over one night (never was this house so full!) and then he and Elihu will leave on the train on Saturday. Our guests will remain for another week, and after they leave, when the last of the summer flurry is over, I will finally enjoy a little time alone before the year starts in again.

One Up, Two Back

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Today has been a classic ‘one step forward, two steps back’ sort of day.

First off, I did call the gal at the drilling company, and we had a good talk. Ended up getting a lower grade pump with the same warranty. As this pump isn’t for non-stop household use but rather for part-time hours (and at this point only seasonal as well) I figured I could go with the less expensive model. Plus she assured me that any other pumps I found on the internet by the same name weren’t the real thing; they were black market knockoffs. Really? Sounded kinda silly to me, but I didn’t know enough to counter. Plus these pumps were made in Denmark. That I liked. (Much more reassuring than had they been made in someplace like Texas.) I’m already a big fan of Danish design, so I’m going to trust that they make good pumps too.

I joined the crew at the site and watched as they dug the trench from the well to the building, moved some immense boulders and finessed a new line into the Studio. All went well. Satisfied, I left to go pickup Elihu at school.

Elihu’s classmates are each contributing a small drawing of a rainbow which will be used to fashion a larger, end-of-the-year thank you card for their teacher. I carry the pens and paper in my purse and plan to have him do a quick drawing before I pass it off to the mom who’s putting the card together. I linger at the school looking for her but can’t find her. I know she lives a bit further out in the country in our general direction, so I make a mental note to drop the art off at her place later on that afternoon.

By the time I got home and checked my messages, I found the workers had made several attempts to find me – there was a situation that needed some attention ASAP. Apparently a couple of pipes had burst over the winter, in spite of my having drained the system. Or at least I’d thought I had; some friends had come over in October and offered to help me drain the pipes for winter – only we may have been one freeze too late. I don’t know – it seems kinda crazy to me that there should be such damage done in so short a time – but it whenever, however, it doesn’t matter. It’s done. “We looked everywhere but couldn’t find a mop or anything” the kind fellow went on; he felt pretty bad, but there was nothing he could do. I called the shop right away and thanked them. They’d done their job, and they’d done what they could. Which was really just shutting off the main valve after realizing that the place was flooding fast. And we were so close to finishing this project and opening our doors for the summer. So close…

After hearing the messages, I pile a laundry basket full of old towels, drag the huge dehumidifier up the basement stairs, get it all in the car and head next door. When I first see the situation, it doesn’t look so bad – although the carpet in the bathroom hallway is dark with water, it still seems ok. But then I walk on it and feel the volume of water beneath my feet. Phooey. I sop up what I can, get the machine cranking and set up the tubing to drain into a sink. Now I too have done all I can, all there is to do now is wait. Ok. Time to turn my attention back to school business.

Back at home Elihu begins to work on the rainbow for his teacher’s card. He needs to finish his book report too – something he’s been dragging out for weeks now. His teacher has been more than kind granting him extra time for having joined them late in the year. As he adds lines to his arch I test out the markers on a sheet of paper first before handing them to him – as he of course cannot see the colors for himself. He finishes his rainbow then adds a soaring eagle. He signs “Love, Elihu” in the teensiest letters possible a the bottom. Perfect. Now back to the book report. Where is it? I can only find the paper on which I’ve tested the markers. Oh no. Oh no. No! I have been testing out the markers on his book report!!

It’s actually not so bad, because at Waldorf, kids do their assignments in a large lesson book. Elihu has been told that he can do his report on another piece of paper and then glue it into his lesson book. So this will be fine. We can easily cut it out. But this is not acceptable to Elihu, who has now become a raging, crying, frustrated little kid who is fully invested in using this as his ultimate reason not to continue. The next hour is spent with Elihu lamenting between sobs that he’s “been working on this for months“, and that “all his work has to count for something” and therefore he “shouldn’t have to do any more” and me countering that all the hard work in the world is for naught if the assignment is not completed. Crappy job or not, it must be finished. I even use his beloved Waldorf as a tool. I am ashamed of myself, but I am desperate that he finish this assignment. I stay committed to my act, I say that perhaps he should return to Greenfield Elementary if he can’t do the work at Waldorf. It is a veritable battle of wills, of egos. He nods his head yes, that maybe he should go back to Greenfield, because he will NOT do any more on this book report. Wow. He’s committed to his act, too.

I let him writhe on the couch for a bit, to let off some steam. After some time he comes to me as I sit in my chair writing, and he slides in next to me. He doesn’t need any more discussion, any more lecturing. He needs mommy now. So I say nothing, I just hold him. His tears are drying now, but he’s still a little sniffly. I give him the opportunity to ease up on his stance. “Want to just try one sentence at a time?” I ask in a much softer tone, to which he nods yes. I hug him again, and we sit for a moment. He gets up and walks into his room.

Just now Elihu returned with the entire book report finally completed. He threw it at me and said “don’t thank me. Don’t say anything at all or I will be really mad.” Then he left the room. A few seconds later I can hear the whirring of his helicopter moving about the living room. In a while we will have supper. By then things will have settled down. If he’s playing with a flying toy, I know he’s already feeling better.

I’m feeling better too. But I’m not looking forward to spending the money I’d saved on the cheaper pump by way of plumbing repairs (and then some. !). So much for the windfall of a bonus interior paint job! Sheesh.

One step forward, two steps back. Ever onward…

Digging the trench for the new water line

Getting closer…

Down to the nitty gritty…

Good news: we have water. Bad news? It’s in the wrong place. Sigh.

I can’t forget the goal… what a beautiful room, huh? This room has seen over forty years of music and theater and will continue to do so as soon as we’re over this little hump…

Post Script: The Studio used to get its water from a shallow, hand-dug well a hundred yards away (which belongs to the 200 year old farm house in which my brother now lives) but the line ruptured last year. We supplied the Studio with water using a hose from my parent’s house to get us through last season. This year we’re going to have our own water source, making the Studio a true stand-alone building. (We still need heat – but that’s another chapter for the future.)

Spoons and Drums

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Yesterday Elihu’s Eurythmy teacher at Waldorf  brought the local trad music folks to school as an end-of-the-year treat for the 3rd graders. The trio played and called as 3rd graders, 7th graders, teachers and this mom joined in the dancing.

Local favorites Peter, Paul and Margot explain traditional music to the kids

Looks like Master Elihu has a question…

…he wants to see the spoons that Peter plays up close

Abigail Reid (standing) is the 3rd grade teacher

Susan Birkas Dent, Eurythmy teacher on left, Paul Rosenberg, caller, multi-instrumentalist and well-known founder of the Dance Flurry here in Saratoga on the right. We’re about to dance, so sorry – there aren’t any pictures of the dancing in progress!

Peter Davis shows Elihu how to play the spoons

During recess Elihu shares the djembes he brought to school with classmates

…then he and Phoenix play together (these two are the drummers in the class for sure!)

After school is out, Adam Witt, baker of the best bread you could ever hope to taste and west-African-schooled drummer leads the kids in a drum circle

A late spring rain has the drummers running to squeeze into the gazebo.

What a magical day. How much do we love this school??

Blessing

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I’m not yet a true Waldorf mom. It’s continually new to me, yet I know it’s the absolute right place for us to be. I knew it the first day. Funny, less than a year ago I still had an image of the place as being a combination of moneyed, greener-than-thou professionals and naive, modern hippie types who all merely parroted slogans of love and light because it was progressive and hip. Now I realize I was not correct in any of my ignorant assumptions. Within hours of becoming the mother of a student at the Waldorf School of Saratoga Springs I was greeted by people – mothers, dads, grandparents, teachers. I was made to truly feel welcome, and instantly there was an ease of relationship with the new people I was meeting. We had something in common. What exactly it was I wasn’t yet sure – and I’m still not quite sure. Something, however, has brought us all here. We were all out of step in some way with the other educational communities at large, or maybe we all knew there must be something better, something more deeply connected to creator, earth and community. Regardless of what’s lead us here, we are all here because we understand this place is incredibly rare and special.

Each day I shake my head in amazement at the things that Elihu is learning. The very environment that Waldorf and his wonderful teacher (wow do I feel lucky there!) have created for him. Each day, in an off-the-cuff sort of way, more as an aside than a piece of news to share, Elihu will reveal to me yet another aspect of this school that impresses me more deeply than I ever expected to be impressed. Tonight, as we sat at dinner together, he began to recite something I’d not heard before. He knew the whole thing (in the span of four weeks Elihu has memorized many, many verses, both song and poetry – and not for having worked at it; it’s simply part of his day there) and I was enchanted as he recited this piece…

The sun, with loving light makes bright for me each day.

The soul with spirit power gives strength unto my limbs.

In sunlight shining clear, I reverence, o God, the strength of human kind which thou so graciously hath planted in my soul that I, with all my might, may love to work and learn.

From these stream light and love, to Thee rise love and thanks.

A simple Google search has me finally learning more about the history of this school and its founder (and author of the above prayer) Rudolf Steiner. How lucky were we to stumble upon this miraculous haven. I couldn’t feel more grateful – to Rudolf, to the teachers, to everyone who has dedicated their life’s work to the vision of the Waldorf School. Shakin my head and sayin ‘Amen’ to it all.

Makin Up

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Thanks. I knew I had to blow off some steam, and really it felt good. I liked typing the f word over and over. And as I drove to the airport, I stewed. I know it’s not healthy to stew all the time, nor a lot, but every now and then it just feels good. I was pissed. But, as I kinda thought I would be, here I am the next sunny day feeling better.

After I got Elihu to his plane things went well. Many unexpected little pleasures en route home, not the least of which was an art exhibit in the observation tower at the airport, complete with wine and hors d’oeuvres.  I was tipping back the last of my pinot noir as I watched Elihu’s plane finally leaving the ground. Got a voucher for free parking too. Not a bad start to the weekend. I figured it might be a good time to stop pouting.

Called a new friend who lives here in Greenfield not too far away from us. Her seventh grade daughter was having a lousy time at the over-populated middle school and so she too had just started attending the Waldorf School of Saratoga. We share rides; her mom takes her and Elihu most mornings, I pick em up at the end of the day. Works out well. My neighbor was home, and must have read the ‘poor puppy dog’ in my voice cuz she invited me over without hesitating. It was a nice hang. Nice transition to the time alone before me.

Awoke to an amazing, absolutely unexpected gift from an old friend, and that gave a great lift to my spirit. Just being remembered by folks is nice; being so physically removed from people as I am here, it makes it easy to think I’ve been completely forgotten. After all, I myself can hardly remember my old life some days. Kinda feels like a movie I saw once.

I haven’t done much today but piddle about. An old friend of the Conants is driving to D.C. from Canada today and is stopping by my folks’ for lunch. That will be very nice indeed. My mother always presents the loveliest spreads you ever did see, and the simplest dishes become the tastiest. That’s her thing. It’s more than a thing really, it is a talent. These kinds of meals are becoming a rarer thing as my parents age (and especially now that dad’s Festival of Baroque Music is no longer happening; gone are the opportunities to feed the musicians and their families) and so I’ll savor the moment for sure.

I’ve spent a little time outside today too. Filled up my little rigid plastic kiddie pool – but quickly forgot I now shared my property with a goose. As soon as I’d turned off the hose and come back around the house Max was already in it, swimming about and enjoying himself tremendously. I don’t so much mind this, nor do I mind being in the water with a goose, it’s just that he poops a rather liquidy sort of substance that will foul up the water in no time. Thinking quickly, I run to the basement to get an old bedspread, which I drape over the pool. I realize it won’t work as I’d initially thought as it sinks down into the water rather than covering it, but then a second idea comes to me: the cloth might act something like a ‘pool condom’. If Maximus poops, it will stay on top of the cloth, and by lifting the fabric I can lift out the poop. Most of it. I hope. It looks like it’ll work. I’ll let you know.

Here are some pics from my day so far. Hopefully it will offer me a clean start after yesterday’s rant. (Readership was through the roof though. What is up with us humans? We love drama, don’t we?)

Maximus and me

Maximus eyes my pool

… then gets in

… and later follows me back to the house.

If I ignore him, he’ll start knocking on the door. No kidding. It was cute for a while. Not so much any more. Will have to figure out a solution.

(Yeah, I know, how about a fence?)

… and finally, handsome Mr. Bald Mountain.

The rooster who never lets you forget he owns the joint.

May Day Pics

Posted in An Ongoing Journal..., Birding, Low Vision Life, Mommy Mind, Pics2 Comments

Waldorf School kids dance around the maypole… complete with flowered crowns on their heads, recorders and drums playing… a delightfully anachronistic feel to the day.

Elihu in blue

Later that fine May day… glow-in-the-dark stars dry on the trampoline for use that night at the Greenfield Elementary School talent show.

Fifty stars in all. Lots of time with an X-Acto knife.

The beautiful and talented Ginley Girls sing “Sweet Child O Mine” in honor of their blue-eyed baby sister

The traditional half time chicken dance. Elihu is the pit orchestra and rim shot guy and plays along with the track. A chicken and a duck dance wing-in-wing on stage

In the vast field just beyond our house we discovered literally hundreds of these Comma Butterflies passing by… note the interesting, curvy silhouette of the wings

Orange and brown and pretty on the inside

Elihu smooches our gregarious hen, Thumbs Up

Hello, Thumbs Up!

One more surprise from the incubator

On May 7th, my 49th birthday, I realized that my childhood friend’s mother died at 49.  She seemed like a real grown-up to me back then. I don’t feel like such a grown up. Age and perspective. Interesting.

Oh, little Rose Breasted Grosbeak, we have waited to see you for lo these past three years!

Frogs’ Legs and Helicopters

Posted in An Ongoing Journal..., Farm Life, Low Vision Life, Mommy Mind, Pics1 Comment

A week has nearly elapsed since Elihu’s ninth birthday and the whole week has been a veritable whirlwind. Right now we two are still straddling two worlds; Elihu attends Waldorf, yet tomorrow he will and I will be performing at his former school’s talent show. I have had my hands full running the production and haven’t had a moment to spare. After a too-late bedtime I sit, sleepy at my computer, wondering how possibly to catch up.

His proper birthday was last Saturday. The birthday angel had left some lovely gifts as he slept, and he awoke to a kitchen table filled with flying contraptions, plus a few bird-related items for good measure. (This month the bills will have to wait, our priorities were elsewhere.) What a lovely day it was, sunny and just warm enough to try a few outdoor flights. With so many new toys to become familiar with, the day was passed with me sleepily watching him from the couch as he learned the intricacies of each one. A couple of our chicks hatched that day too, which added to the delight of the day. The soundtrack of that afternoon was the constant peeping of the baby chicks and the whirring of helicopter blades.

That evening we went to dinner at the local favorite restaurant called “The Wishing Well”. It was where we’d eaten the past year on his birthday, and although mom sponsored our trip there, she did not join us as the place is quite pricey and the tab might have been a bit too severe for all five of us Conants. It was a night I will always remember. As we sat at the low tables in the bar area listening to the piano player, we had drinks and he opened just a few special gifts I’d reserved for the occasion. When the waitress came to take our drink order Elihu told me to ‘go ahead and get something special’ and so I did. I enjoyed my first martini in several years (gin, straight up with olives thank you). He had taken such pride in dressing and looked to me as handsome as ever. I too had dressed up, and the two of us felt very good indeed as we sat in comfy leather chairs beneath the giant head of a taxidermed moose above the fireplace.

Elihu’s first gift was a lovely field guide of the birds of Europe and England – accompanied by some tasty caramels – sent by his sister, Brigitta, who lives outside of London. He entertained me by testing my knowledge of the birds. He covered up the names and smiled ear-to-ear as he watched me struggling for the name. He knew nearly every bird in that book. He laughed when I asked how that was possible. “I’ve been reading about them since I was four!” he laughed. Then I presented my own gifts to him. I watched as he opened the first, amazed that by the shape alone he hadn’t been able to figure out what they were. When he saw his very first, professional pair of brushes, he lit up. I have never heard that tone of his voice before as he thanked me ‘so much’. He was thrilled that he could finally “play like the real jazz drummers”! Immediately he took them out, opened up the metal fans and began playing on the table. “Like this?” he asked, as he practiced a circular movement. There wasn’t much room for me to improve on his intuitive technique; as he played he got the idea very naturally. After a bit I had to ask him to hold back, as it might be distracting to the table next to us. Thankfully he is still young enough (and yes, cute enough) that he’s easily forgiven. Plus he was actually playing along with the pianist and sounded pretty good. Our table in the dining room was still occupied and so the manager began to bring us little complimentary treats to help pass the time. First it was some asparagus and corn soup. Elihu loved it. I was so pleased to see him taste it – often he’ll pass on soup – but as it was his birthday and he was quite earnest about being grown up, he did what was polite. Turned out he dug it. As he did the escargot that followed. In fact, he like them so well I gave him my share. A sampling of crab meat then arrived just before I offered him my second gift; a treasured CD of polkas we’d once enjoyed (but which now only frustratingly skipped over the first few tracks.) He was thrilled! What joy in this mother’s heart to see her son so fully happy. (And that martini made me happy too.)

We were shown to our table, which was in a far corner of the farmhouse-turned restaurant, and there was both a crackling fire and a wall of bookshelves behind us. He pulled out an ancient cloth-bound book on aviation and amused himself with that as we waited for his much-anticipated frogs’ legs. Dinner was not too long in arriving, and soon we were eating and thoroughly enjoying ourselves. I had the soft shell crab, and treasured each bite. The meal was perfect. We bagged what was left of our mashed potatoes for our chickens back home, and after paying the bill as carelessly as if it were something I did every day, we gathered our things and headed out into the night.

The next day was Sunday, the day of his birthday party. To sum up the day, I might simply say it was “off the hook” and I believe you’ll get the idea. It was a day in which his two worlds came together; there were children from his old elementary school there along with new classmates and friends from Waldorf. As usual, we invited and encouraged siblings and parents to come and stay, so before long our tiny house was filled to the rafters with bodies of all sizes. The eggs in the incubator began peeping and cracking open as planned, yet in spite of all the plans I’d had for keeping on top of the presents, they flew open at a rate I could not keep up with. Water guns (pre-loaded) were the party favors, and before the cake was out kids were running in and out of doors and everywhere outside in a great chase. The trampoline was well beyond my ‘rule of 3’ capacity, but the many adults sitting close by didn’t seem to mind. Chickens were being chased, eggs were being collected, and yes, the drums in the basement – plus an electric guitar and my wurlitzer too – were being played. And all at the same time. Our neighbor showed up with his two week old baby, wife and other young daughter; they’d ridden over in their 1925 model T. Soon he was giving party guests rides around the field in his ancient car. The day was spirited, joyful chaos. As soon as I turned my attention to someone, I was shortly pulled in another direction. I finally managed to take one moment at the top of the steps to pause. I stood there by the kitchen door just looking out at it all in wonder. Wow. Such a contrast to the way things started for us here. To see this, you’d never know the darkness in which we’d lived for those first few years. This new life was simply miraculous.

That day we met many new friends. This week Elihu’s discovered that along with friends and their generosity comes the task of letter-writing. Since he is not given homework at Waldorf these days, his homework this week has been to write thank-you notes. Not a small task, but one he sees the value of. He is well aware how blessed he is to have so many people in his life, and he himself feels compelled to let his friends know that he appreciates them. Yes, Elihu is growing up. He’s growing up to be a good young man. I am so proud of him, I am so in love with him. I am a mother with a full heart.

He’s a good kid, and he’s one tired kid, too. Tomorrow his school will hold a May day celebration in the park, and tomorrow night he will be the rim shot guy at the talent show, hitting his snare and crash cymbal after all the corny jokes. And I’ve been told there will be a lot of them. One more long day, one more long night. Then our transition is underway in earnest.

Welcome Spring! Welcome new life! Another year, another year’s adventures await…

Small World

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Hello to my friends across the globe! May we all find it within our ability to visit each other some day. WordPress tells me I have readers in the following places… wave if I call your country!

United States, Canada, Egypt, United Kingdom, Indonesia, Brazil, Germany, Ecuador, Ukraine, Slovakia, Australia, Mexico, Malaysia, Peru, Saudi Arabia, Nigeria, Belgium, Czech Republic, Argentina, Israel, Latvia and the Republic of Korea.

Wow. Thanks for joining us in our adventure here in rural, upstate New York. Please say hello on your next visit, whether real or virtual…