Now I might as happy be as earth is beautiful

Here is an October Poem for you.  It's one I love, because it captures so well the strange sadness that comes over me in the Fall.  I love the colors and the leaves and the gold light on the mountains, but there's this feeling of loss and endings and passings-on that I can never shake. 

I remember Leslie Norris reading Edward Thomas to us fairly often---Thomas was also Welsh---and his poems always seemed to have a touch of sadness to them.  To me it seemed like he must have had some premonition of his own death (he died in combat in World War I), but then, I guess it doesn't take any special foreknowledge to be aware of or disturbed by the relentless march of time.  Especially in the Fall, when the coming winter looms so large and un-ignorable.

First I love Thomas's comparison of Fall and Spring; the realization that, taken out of context, Fall's changes are just as "fresh" and "new" as spring.  It's only what comes next that makes them endings instead of beginnings.  And I love the balance he finds in the season---"the touch is not more cool / Than it is warm to the gaze"---because I always notice that too: the coolness of the air balanced with the warmth of the colors, like the extremes of the summer are finally being moderated.  Like we're being compensated somehow, or given an extra measure of beauty to bear us up during the winter to come.

I love the line, "now I might / As happy be as earth is beautiful / Were I some other or with earth could turn / In alternation of violet and rose."  I guess that is the problem: that as a prisoner of mortality, I know everything is changing, time is passing, my children are growing up and away, my body is slowly breaking down---but unlike the changes of the seasons, these changes are irreversible and permanent.  There's no coming "spring" on which to fix our hopes through the dark winter of change, no restarting point where things will go back to the way they once were.  And that's why we can't just enjoy the Autumn, carefree and heedless of what's to come.  We know each year brings a death of what was---a place we can never really return to. 

But then that last quatrain brings a sudden and surprising insight.  Here Thomas suggests that maybe true happiness comes WITH and BECAUSE OF this very melancholy:  in the contemplation of change and the realization of impermanence, in spite of the pain such thoughts bring.  "But if this be not happiness, --who knows? / Some day I shall think this a happy day."  Doesn't it remind you of "for if they never should have the bitter they could not know the sweet"?  After bringing back all our deepest fears of change and getting old and dying, Thomas suddenly forces us to ask ourselves if we would have it any other way.  If we really could change back and forth with the seasons, alternating between new and old, "violet and rose," would we ever feel we had actually progressed?  Would we be able to appreciate the times past, if we knew we could re-live them at any point?  Would we value rebirth without the death that comes before it?

All right.  Enough analysis: now, the poem.

October

The green elm with the one great bough of gold
Lets leaves into the grass slip, one by one, --
The short hill grass, the mushrooms small milk-white,
Harebell and scabious and tormentil,
That blackberry and gorse, in dew and sun,
Bow down to; and the wind travels too light
To shake the fallen birch leaves from the fern;
The gossamers wander at their own will.
At heavier steps than birds' the squirrels scold.

The rich scene has grown fresh again and new
As Spring and to the touch is not more cool
Than it is warm to the gaze; and now I might
As happy be as earth is beautiful,
Were I some other or with earth could turn
In alternation of violet and rose,
Harebell and snowdrop, at their season due,
And gorse that has no time not to be gay.
But if this be not happiness, --who knows?
Some day I shall think this a happy day,
And this mood by the name of melancholy
Shall no more blackened and obscured be.

---Edward Thomas

7

Important Bulletin

You should know (as I just found out) that today is National Chocolate Day.

When I think of chocolate, this is what I think of.  This cake.  Sebby Cake, to be precise.  [It is called Sebby Cake (stop me if you've heard this before) because the first time I ever tasted it, I promptly went into labor with Sebastian.  Meaning, perhaps, that he couldn't wait to get out and be part of a world that included this cake.  And who can blame him?  We took it to the hospital with us, where it made a very nice post-labor meal.]  Have I really not posted this recipe before?  It's one of our very favorites.  Easy, and delicious.  Please try it.  For me?  For National Chocolate Day?  You'll not be sorry.

Chocolate Sebby Cake

1 Devil’s food cake mix

1 small package chocolate pudding mix

4 large eggs

1 c. sour cream (or, I use plain yogurt)

½ c. warm water

½ c. canola oil

1 to 1 ½ c. semisweet chocolate chips (mini chips work well, but regular are fine)

Mix all ingredients. Pour into sprayed bundt pan. Bake at 350 for 45-50 minutes. After 10 minutes turn out of pan and drizzle immediately with frosting.

Frosting:
1 1/3 c. chocolate chips
2/3 c. evaporated milk

Combine chocolate chips with about 1/4 c. milk in glass bowl; microwave on high for 1 min.; stir till smooth. Then add rest of milk to reach desired consistency.

Lemon variation: Use lemon cake and lemon instant pudding. ½ c. poppyseeds instead of chocolate chips. Drizzle with glaze made from lemon juice and powdered sugar.

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Evening gold

A few pictures from the lovely days before this cold, snowy week.  Although I heard it might be warmer today and tomorrow (I hope so!).

 An elf?  A goblin?

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Random Thoughts

I can think of few things worse than having to exercise while someone yells, "YEAH LADIES!  WORK IT!  WOOOO!" at me.

It may be a cliche, but old people really do just want to talk about their health problems all the time.  (As an honorary old person, I'm not meaning to criticize.  Maybe I'll understand someday.)

I'm glad I don't have to teach my children another language so they can read the scriptures.

Sometimes having access to too much information on a subject is just as discouraging as having not enough.

We finally saw How to Train Your Dragon, and I liked it, but I couldn't help thinking it was strange to make a movie where the moral was, "If you'll just take the time and effort to get to know the big scary monsters you'll find they're actually not that bad!  Except for the biggER scariER monster of course; he's exactly what he seems so just go ahead and kill him right off."

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Pumpkin Patch 2010

I can't believe how little Abe and Seb were the first time we did this.  It doesn't seem that long ago.  But there are more mouths, definitely more mouths. We used to debate whether we should get a half-dozen or a dozen of the apple cider donuts.  Now, a dozen is gobbled up so fast we've had wild fantasies of getting TWO dozen.

 Great composition, Sam.  The single oblong pumpkin in the foreground.  Alone and forlorn.

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Maple Canyon

I love warm days in the Fall.  I can do without the "hint of chill" everyone's always raving about (unless that means temperatures in the 70s, in which case, I agree).  It's fun to go places that we went last year, and see how different the colors are this year.  I guess all the variables---temperature, amount of water, root systems?, etc.---make for an endlessly variable Autumn display, and I love it.

I was saying to Sam, I used to think the leaves with spots and speckles on them weren't as pretty as the more flawless specimans.  But now I love that kind of variety, too---the leaves with holes eaten through them, the spotted ones, the ones that are half red and half green.  I love the distant views, where you just get the full impression of the colored trees like streaks of paint on the mountain, and also the close views, where you can see each color in each leaf.  I think I will never get tired of it.

(Not Maple Canyon, but pretty)

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In the spotlight

Hey!  Here's one of Sam's book covers finally out!

I would like to draw your attention to the words "The Secret Life of".  Do you recognize that handwriting?  That's right, it's Marilynhand.  (I think he modified the "S" a bit, though; it doesn't look quite right.)  Still, doesn't the font convey just the right amount of playful casualness while still being neat and readable?  The cover, honestly, wouldn't be the same without it.  I haven't seen my share of the royalties yet, though.  Sam?

6

Habihat for Humanity

I let them choose their own colors of hats again this year.  Abe and Seb were enticed by variegated yarns.  I do always like seeing how the variegated yarn comes out in the finished work (although, Sam and I both noted that as kids we were bothered by it, since the colors were always in the "wrong order" when they emerged.)

 I like Abe's eyes

 This is one of those shots that, if I saw it in a movie, I'd be yelling "Aaa!  Too close!  Too close!  Personal space!"  But as he's my own darling boy, I don't mind (in fact, I don't usually notice those cute freckles on his nose; how sweet!).

I like his eyes too.  Although I don't know what he's doing here.

He wanted me to add a "birdie tuft" on his hat so he could be "just like birdie."  "But my nose is my beak," he added.

This hat was specially invented and engineered for a baby who does NOT TOLERATE HATS (except as hilarious jokes, to be promptly removed and laughed at).  She tried to get this one off for awhile, but finally had to give it up as hopeless.  Success!!

I feel like I should say something about this expression. 

But . . . there are no words.

Cutest bunny ever

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sigh.

Abe brought this test home from school the other day.  Now please believe that I always try not to be crochety about spelling (no correlation between that and intelligence, etc. etc., as Mr. Rutter always pointed out) and I really do understand that we all make stupid writing mistakes sometimes (especially when working fast---trying to get through lots of papers---etc.).  I've never wanted to be the all-knowing grammar snob (at least not openly), because I've got enough flaws/blind spots of my own, and I try to remember that.  But . . . "YOUR so smart"??  And this isn't the first time I've seen his teacher make that particular mistake.  As well as their/they're.  And it just makes me a tiny bit sad, because these are not really difficult concepts, right?  Contractions vs. possessives?  Certainly not un-learnable, with a bit of effort.  And they're things I'd really like Abe to have a grasp of.  But how will he if even his teachers don't?  And WHY don't his teachers?  They have college degrees, they're smart and capable.  So . . . why?  Of course I wouldn't say anything about it to the teacher.  But I'm silently (not so silently now, I guess) disappointed.

9

A report, as promised

 Two by two

This post is for Sam who was teaching for 10 hours a day instead of having fun with the rest of us, and so missed 80% of this stuff.  But who wanted to hear "every detail of those cuties."  We missed you and would have had 10x more fun with you along!  Here is every detail.  Some of them, anyway.

You were with us at the Noah's Ark exhibit (Skirball Museum), of course.  The boys loved making the rain and thunder and wind and lightning noises.  Daisy loved watching.

It was just too big to get great pictures of.  But there were so many things to do---and all the animals were so strange and clever and wonderful.  Remember how the boys crawled around in the rafters like gerbils?  And Daisy hugged every single stuffed animal?  And she loved that little bird squeaker?

She was also a cute baby kangaroo

The rainbow afterwards was fun too.

 And it made Sebby sparkle in the sunlight.

That night the clouds were really beautiful.  Philip said California doesn't usually get very great clouds, but we were lucky.  And we were lucky with hot weather, too.  I'm usually kind of disappointed when it doesn't feel as tropical as it looks down there, at least for days on the beach.

Good light for photographing babies in.

The boys were good in the hotel, mostly, as you saw.  They were tired enough to fall asleep in spite of their excitement, flailing all over each other in the bed.

But Daisy did this.  For hours.  How was she not tired?

The Reagan Library was so interesting.  I loved all the exhibits!  We went through Air Force One twice (and the boys were then disappointed not to also be able to enter every other vehicle on the premises).  The location was really beautiful too.  I love looking out over vineyards and rolling hills.  There were some pretty rose gardens overlooking the valley.  We'll go back with you sometime (when they're done remodeling).  I can show you the location of the bathrooms on each floor (since I was the first to succumb to the stomach flu that morning, I threw up in each of them.  Nowhere else, luckily.).

Piece of the Berlin Wall

We went to the beach to convalesce that afternoon (surprisingly good place to be sick, the beach) but I have so many pictures of it they're in a separate post.  You know how I tend to take too many pictures of waves and sandy children.  I can't help myself.

Of course our day with Philip and Allison was great.  Benjamin is getting so big and so cute.  He was a busy bee just like Daisy is (up the stairs, then cry to come down, up the stairs, then cry, etc.).  We liked all the astronomy exhibits at the Griffith Observatory.  They have a telescope that lets you look at the sun.  You would have liked it.  You would have liked the "Big Picture" too---a huge wall mural of blown-up photographs from the Hubble.  Actually you would have liked everything there.  You probably would have kept us there another two hours.  We watched the pendulum, and saw it knock over one of its pins.  That was a dramatic moment.  I could hardly drag Sebby away.

We had a picnic lunch (you know that Allison packs the best picnics) which I TOLD the boys to "go easy" on (recovering stomach flu, you know), but can you guess if they did or not?  It was hot and there were a bunch (a buzz? a bevy?) of bees following us.  They liked the turkey, it seemed.  And then we went, per Sebby's anxious request, to the Tar Pits.  It smelled just as tarry as always.  The boys liked it all.  Nothing seemed to have changed from last time we went.  Remember the wall full of Dire Wolf skulls?  Still as impressive as ever.  I also liked the place where you can see people working on sorting what they find in the tar pits.  A lady was separating dirt from bones under a magnifying glass.  She had the toe bone of a mouse on display.  Tiniest thing ever!

 Philip holding the babies for a picture.  Both are protesting.

The next day, because you weren't there to lead us around and discourse upon the art, we did just the Impressionists and the Modernists at the Getty, then spent the rest of the time in the Children's Room and the Gardens.  Oh!  And I can't forget the tram ride up the hill, of course.  Sebby claimed not to remember it from last time, until we got next to the tracks and he said, "Oh yeah, the wheels go along on this long conveyor belt track---NOW I remember!"  There was Great Excitement about the automatic doors and so forth.

The boys made masks and everyone rolled around happily in this Louis XIV-ish bed.  You should have heard Daisy.  She was shrieking with glee.  Glad to be out of the stroller, I suppose.  I wish I had a dollar for every time I was asked, "All these kids ALL YOURS?"

This was the coolest room.  All the childrens exhibits were imitating/explaining one of the works in the regular museum, and this one recalled the sculpture pictured by the arrow (above).  There were long foam tubes which you could arrange to your liking by inserting them in holes in the wall.  The boys were ENTHRALLED.

On the grounds we ate a fruity popsicle (expensive, but our only lunch, and quite delicious) and the boys found these huge leaves.  They became quite attached to them, as you know.

Need I remind you of the cutest thing of all?  Daisy, released from long bondage in her carseat, "driving" the car from your lap while I got breakfast ready.  Remember how cute and happy and wiggly she was?

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