Berlin's Whimsy

Conversation.

This was my view for much of a recent hike with my son: his lanky frame in front of me between the curves of our trail. It was a rare just-you-and-me moment for us---- few and far between these days. And those moments always put a lot of pressure on me---- should I bring up all the important subjects at once?! Or let things develop?

He was extremely quiet. In fact, he often is. I don't know that it's his age or just his personality--- I'm quiet, too. With my kids the age they are, my experience is that full communication is as unpredictable as trying to forecast a rainbow. Forget about it. But when it happens---- when they are receptive and open--- I listen. And I ask. And I'm present.

My son wasn't ready for long conversations today.

I asked him about potential colleges. About driving. About his friends. About the plot to his newest story he's writing. About the book I brought home for him to read. His answers were one to two words, at most. I asked him how he felt about going to college in a little over a year and his answer was, "nervous."

Frankly, it was all okay with me.

At his age, I remember all too well adults trying to pry information from me (they called it communicating)----- how their "let's talk" voice alone sent shivers up my spine. And advice---well, it was plentiful. I remember adult family friends telling me of my "vast potential" and that I'd have "all the time in the world to pursue relationships" after I'd settled myself into a successful career. Yet, those words fell on young and stubborn ears. The ears of a young adult who had not experienced the far reaching cause and effect of adult decisions yet. I had my own agenda. And frankly, don't we all? Don't we all have our own custom-made, personal lessons to learn from our choices in life? I know I did. 

So, on this evening with my son, rather than pushing the point, I waited for cues from him. Cues that weren't there. He politely waited for me when I lagged behind----as I was taking too many photos of the beautiful views--- but moved on when I caught up. He asked me when we would return to town because he wanted to go to the local festival, wondering if it was still going on. He had his own agenda that night.

I've learned that so much of parenting older kids is about choices: "reading" their moods and being there when they're receptive. Guiding rather than telling. Backing off when you need to. And all the while, I'm sure that I'm facing more of my own lessons as their parent, as well. We often learn through teaching.

Related articles

let go or be dragged.

A fall tradition...

 

Once again, my Mom and I traveled east to pick apples recently. It seems to be a fall tradition for the two of us. And once again, it was a glorious day. That golden fall light on the eastern valleys and slopes of Oregon can't be beat.

 

It's quite mesmerizing to travel those backroads and see the slower pace of life. It gathers my thoughts into visions of alternate lifestyles and the paths that lead each of us to where we land.  There are a lot of 'could have beens' in everyone's lives, huh?

 

Because of a scheduling snafu, the orchard was actually closed (!!), but the kind owner still allowed us to pick apples. We sat around on the bumper of my Mom's car, talking with this older gentleman about the area and his memories of how our own city has changed from his distant perspective. He reminded me of my grandfather. I felt the peace that always seemed to embrace me when I listened to my grandfather's stories of a time that seemed so much simpler. I felt a little envious of his life out by the orchard, within the quiet hills so far from the city. Ah, I'd probably grow weary of the solitude, though. Instead, I enjoyed the amount of time I had in that slow lifestyle; living in my dreams.

 

The apples were ready for picking and in no time at all, we had boxes of them! Ever since, I've been trying to find a place for them all. As I cut up apples for applesauce and peel them for drying, I still think about that beautiful trip with my Mom. What a fun tradition!

Fall Cider Dress Giveaway from the Shabby Apple

I anxiously await my favorite season of the year: fall. Our mornings are beginning to hold that crisp feel of the changing season. Not only do I enjoy the weather of fall, but also its earthy colors. Greens mottled with oranges; flames of red amongst the trees; the yellows and burnt oranges from the garden---- all so inspiring.

And here's your own opportunity to capture a little fall color of your own! The Shabby Apple has generously offered a dress giveaway to one lucky reader! I chose the Cider Dress (pictured above) for this giveaway because of its elegant lines and beautiful color. Though, you'll find many other beautiful womens dresses if you pop over the The Shabby Apple website--- additionally, you can shop by collection, by body type, and they also offer girls and preteen clothing. 

There are three ways to enter (and you may enter up to three times but please leave separate comments for each entry):

1) go to The Shabby Apple website, browse their wares, and return here to leave a comment about which dress you like and why you like it.

2 & 3) Follow The Shabby Apple blog on Facebook and/or Twitter and come back here and tell me about it.

The contest is only available to those in the United States and I will choose a random winner at 5 PM (PST) on Friday, August 27th. After the winner is chosen, I'll announce it here and contact the winner.

Good luck and I look forward to one of you winning this fabulous dress!

Trying a new green edible. Fiddlehead Ferns.

I am enjoying all of your green edible comments on this post. I see I'm not alone in my love of spring green! I also realize that I have a lot more green edibles to try! Thank you for sharing.

They say it takes children 10-12 times of trying a new food before a child will accept it. (I wonder if that applies to ice cream?). And that's if a caring and persuasive person is there to encourage a child to try a food more than once.

Even adults can be reticent of trying new foods. I am fairly adventurous with food, but I must admit I was pretty leery of this one. Living along the Oregon Coast, I heard about Fiddlehead Ferns. They simultaneously scared and intrigued me. They look like something that might have spawned from one of those Alien movies. I half expect them to start wriggling out of my hand, like a green caterpillar. Nonetheless, I realized that their short season was coming to a close all too soon and if I was to try them this year, now was my chance. So I did.

Since I wasn't sure what I would think of them, I only bought a few. Locally, they were $12.99 a pound. Ouch.

I read various preparation instructions and I also read a little bit about levels of toxicity (??!). All in all, they seemed safe and I was curious about their taste. So, I boiled them for exactly four minutes, trimmed them, and sauteed them in olive oil. (I realize now that I should have trimmed some of them a bit more---they should be tight spirals). After sauteing, I sprinkled them with a little lemon juice.

 

And Pants and I tried them.

The verdict? Good. They tasted a little like asparagus, but I agree with a comment I previously read about them: they taste like spring. Another spring green edible.

****

Remember to enter the Edible Green Tea Giveaway on this post.  It's your chance to win some organic powdered green tea (80 cups), a tea tin, a cute little bamboo whisk, and a little spoon. The drawing is on Friday!

Playing with Apples on my Birthday.

Every year around this time (admittedly my birthday), my Mom and I spend time together. This year, we spent a quiet day together traveling miles to the east to pick apples. 200 lbs of apples!

The day was enchanting.

The surroundings of Eastern Oregon are so vastly different from the hustle and bustle of my more populated home. Recalling the scenery of the day, I hold visions of antelope casually grazing alongside the road, a tanned and shirtless farmer walking through his green field, stately old farm houses perched along the winding John Day River, and always the captivating topography of the region towering over us. 

When I was young, my family made this trip out east to the orchards at Kimberly often. As a child, the drive held no more fascination than discovering more methods of annoying my brother in the backseat. Always, my brother and I arrived at the orchards tired, grumpy, and impatient. 

This time, I eagerly anticipated the orchards, wondering if I remembered them from my childhood.

The orchards are located in a canyon along the John Day River. The lush trees, heavy with fruit, seem unreal when compared to the neighboring parched and barren hillsides. 

The scenic byways of the region claim, "Journey Through Time," and admittedly the theme is accurate. Visiting the orchards, the small towns, the geological sites, is like traveling back into an earlier time in history.

After a few hours in the car, we checked in at the orchard's farm stand. I browsed the canned goods (apricot topping, danish cherries, organic applesauce...), tomatoes the size of small pumpkins, and the vast quantities of fruit. A small baby sat in a bouncy seat nearby as the older woman talked to my Mom. My Mom recounted one of our trips to the orchards so long ago, when my brother was a toddler. In an attempt to keep him occupied, she gave him a peach and he not only ate it but smeared it all over himself while sitting in the grass in the peach orchard. 

This time, we were lost in the orchards, both figuratively and literally. Underneath the trees, the light was fluttery, peeking through the leaves which rustled in a very subtle wind. It was quiet there. The only sound was the apples dropping from the trees. We marveled at their size and beauty and it didn't take long before our boxes and baskets were full.

And now I have boxes and boxes of apples.

Applesauce, dried apples, apple pie, apple turnovers, these apple squares, apple juice... The list of yummy things to make is long. So today, on my birthday, I will play with apples and remember the trip through time that brought them to me...

Abilities.

I experienced a little physical bump in the road recently, reminding me once again to be thankful for all the positive things in my life. Why is it so easy to forget? To forget to look at the fall sky and feel gratitude for the eyes that see it and the sensitivity to experience it? To take for granted the legs that allow me to walk under that fall sky? The recognition of the mind with a capacity to understand and the opportunity to learn from life's experiences. The gift of this life's journey that can either be embraced or dismissed. And the ability to choose. 

preparing.

It's beginning to feel like fall here. The warmly tarnished light and cool breezes touch off something in me. The circadian rhythm, perhaps? A knowledge of the changing seasons hearkening back to centuries past when this touching off of preparedness meant survival.

So, that's my long-winded explanation for the knitting phase I'm currently enjoying. I finished this Norwegian Sweet Baby Cap lickety-split and the pattern turns out the cutest little heart warmer! 

I'm currently knitting away on a blanket with the scrumptious Debbie Bliss baby Cashmerino. In only a couple minutes of knitting with this yarn, my texture-loving fingers are in heaven. What is it about this yarn? I realize it reminds me of cream----creamy smooth. It becomes lusciously thick upon knitting up and it's pure bliss to feel.

So, while the zhuccinis continue to become behemoths overnight in my garden and a few leaves drop here and there, I sneak away to knit with my creamy yarn and dream of the coming fall.

dreaming of fall.

The heat outside renders everything a faded golden wash and I am left with dreams of the coming fall as I watch it from afar----or near, in my sheltered home. Yet, I dream of making corn husk dolls, Halloween decorations, scrumptious apple creations. Of fall's pumpkins, and tall sunflowers bending under the weight of birds pulling at the seeds in their middles. Of children with backpacks on their way to school. The memories of my son, two-years old, holding leaves the size of his cherub face.

And those earth-toned leaves quaking in the air before releasing themselves into the sky to perform one last dance. Breathing deep the tell-tale air of fall; the briskness that ushers squirrels into hollows and geese into Vs. Fall, that announces the winter to come through its breezy winds. And the frost that spreads once again upon the grass, like last year's lace afghan. That's what I dream of while guiltily hiding away in my air-conditioned house. And I try to remind myself of my daily mantra: find the good in this moment. In the moment. Grattitude. Grace and acceptance. Even this sweltering heat offers up its lessons and its pleasures.

amongst the leaves.

After a hectic holiday weekend, wandering through my garden is a much needed respite. It's no secret that summer is a challenge for me. It's hot. It's dusty. Too many activities.

But there are bright spots. Like the garden. Every morning, I go out amongst the leaves with a sense of wonder.

I find new leaves carrying morning dew drops like offerings to the rising sun. 

New bugs.

Always more weeds.

And delightful discoveries. 

Summer mornings in the garden are to be treasured. 

found and made.

I cannot help but keep my eyes firmly on the ground when I go for a hike. For good reason, too: how else would I find a little rock shard with the faintest impression of a tree...

... and ready for my outlining and defining with a pen at home...

What kinds of treasures are you finding on this fine summer day?