Clean.

Celebration.

Thank you for all of the sweet birthday cheer yesterday - here, on Facebook, and in my inbox. You all really know how to throw a party!

And it turns out, so does my family.

My vision of spending my birthday out in the fresh air and sunshine, cooking down sap (and cooking our lunch) over the maple fire was dampened by an all-day downpour.

No matter. It only made for more time for sewing, knitting, and otherwise snuggling in with my three favorite people.

Lupine decided that the best thing to do on one's birthday was to read books aloud (to her) and color together, so we did some of that too. (Her book selection? "Happy Birthday to You!" by Dr. Seuss. Adorable.)

Pete and the kids were on their game, delivering sweet handmade gifts and yummy handmade food from dawn until dusk. I could easily turn forty once a week to get this kind of treatment.

And a gift for myself? Why yes. That, too. There was the list I shared a peek of yesterday of "forty things" I plan to do, and also the rainbow banner in the photos above.

Because my kids have a birthday banner. What about me? Forty seemed like the right time to make one for myself.

I used bits of Sage and Lupine's slings for the brown and green pennants, so it's a super-extra-sentimental sort of special. (My tutorial to make your own is here.)

Oh, and one more thing.

The best part of my birthday might have been this mess.

Because I didn't clean up a thing.

Forty.

Today is my 40th birthday.

Forty! I'm planning to spend the day at home with my family - eating great food, boiling maple sap, knitting and sewing, and wondering at what the next forty years might bring.

Forty trips around the sun! Now how did that happen? I swear I'm still 28.

Love,
Rachel

A lovely (un-crafty) celebration.

We had a lovely and simple celebration on Sunday with my parents joining us for the day. It was cold, but spring none the less. (Gray sky and cold winds be darned.)

I took every aspect of our celebration down a notch this year, from fancy clothes to dying eggs to the gifts in their baskets.

In fact this year there was nothing handmade at all brought by the spring bunny. Nada.

As I said on Saturday, there are days where you decide that enough is enough.

Instead of crafty goods the bunny brought a bird feeder, bag of seed, and garden tool for each child along with the flower seeds that they receive each year.

And - of course - the kids were as tickled as ever. It seems like whatever is given is met with grace, enthusiasm and gratitude. Because it's about the magic, not what they receive.

And to be honest, there was relief for me in toning things down.

In having a holiday that wasn't picture-perfect. (Heck, Lupine even talked me into a bag of plastic eggs at the thrift store, so those were mixed in with our wool and paper mache homemade varieties.)

Because why not? I find no joy in perfection (especially the journey to it) so why not chill out a little?

Indeed. The magic was alive, but not the hustle and worry and business. (As Lupine's face will attest in the photograph above just after the "Wish Bunny" was found.)

Don't get me wrong. I still value craftiness. But I think it's important to know when enough is enough.

Because there in lies balance - and the joy - of a perfectly simple celebration.

 

Spring Cheer!

Wishing you a weekend of simple joys and celebrations.

May you feel the sunshine on your skin, the breeze in your hair, the earth beneath your feet, and the love that surrounds you.

May you unplug and be present in this magical moment, whatever your weekend brings.

Spring!

Love,
Rachel

In case you are in the hustle of last-minute Easter celebration prep, here is my tutorial for felt easter eggs pockets and here are paper mache treat eggs (both seen above). You can also find my tricks for natural egg dyes and thoughts on simplifying Easter or Spring celebrations both here and here.

Spring, delayed.

Happy spring, northern friends! (And happy autumn to those of you south of the equator.) I send this wish wearing long johns, wool socks and my coziest sweater.

Oh, yes. It's spring! (In that drifting snow and icy roads and biting wind kind of way.)

While it feels nothing like spring around here, I'll take a long cold winter any day over the crazy early, crazy dry, crazy hot spring that we greeted on this day one year ago.

It was 80F/27C last March here in Wisconsin. And frankly, that was terrifying.

Today it is -8F/-22C with the wind chill. Um. We have over corrected.

And so that brings us back to spring. And holidays. And celebrations!

Holidays in our family are not religious, but seasonal. Solstices and Equinoxes. And as you may recall, spring is one of my favorite holidays to celebrate. It is right up my alley in every way.

But where I live, Spring Equinox (or Eostre) rarely resembles spring.

Where I live there is normally a decent snow cover on the Vernal Equinox. So this celebration we push out to Easter each year. It adds a bit of normalcy to our family rituals to celebrate when most of our friends and family are also celebrating.

And it keeps the spring bunny from getting snow in her fur.

So today will be an ordinary "winter" day. We'll boil some maple down (if it warms enough for the sap to run!). We'll do some crafting. Sage will work on his robot. We'll read books. Maybe take a quick, bracing walk. I'll keep stitching away on Lupine's spring dress. 

And with hope in our hearts, we'll plant another flat of seeds.

Because spring always arrives. Eventually.

And really - I can hardly wait.

 

Gratitude 13

Welcome 2013. I'm grateful today for so much. Including...

1. Holding hands.

2. Walking beneath the stars.

3. Amazing coffee roasted by our friends.

4. Soft yarn and the promise of a new project on the needles.

5. Summer garden dreams.

6. Perfect bacon.

7. Making art (especially the project I showed you yesterday and the shelf project above).

8. Snow that sparkles in the sunshine.

9. The sound of the creek across the pasture at night.

10. Wool slippers.

11. My family.

12. Reading your comments right here every day.

13. This life.

And now it's your turn. What makes your heart glad today?

Love,
Rachel

Home again

So. How was it?

I hope your holiday was peaceful, joyful, and full of connection.

Or at least peaceful. (wink)

We had a lovely (albeit a bit overstimulating) holiday at my childhood home.

The overstimulating part is fascinating, considering that it is simply the four of us plus my parents and my sister. (I'm beginning to suspect that my people might be a large part of the stim-factor. [See cookie plate above.] Hmmm...)

Indeed, my sister, the kids, and I got carried away on the grain-free and gluten-free treats, so no one was lacking in the sugar buzz department. We even recreated some old family favorites like peppernut and pecan puffs, sans-gluten. Next year? Kling. (Sweet, non-potato lefse.) Oh yeah.

Truly in all it was a perfectly lovely holiday.

I left feeling the gratitude I always do after a holiday with my family. The word that comes up for me is thougthfulness. No hastily bought gifts, no excess of stuff, few off-limits treats that my kids can't enjoy.

The gifts in particular are a treasure.

Goodness, my mom bought me not only the cookbook I've been coveting, but also a vintage manual egg beater and yes, a pStyle (TMI? Sorry. But public toliets weird me out plus we're often out in the woods. This thing is brillaint. I can't believe I just told you that.)

Really. Who gives gifts like that? She's fabulous.

As for my kids, it's even better. My parents gave each of my kids four things: a pair of pajamas, a pair of pants, and a book. They also gave Lupine a headlamp and Sage a watch.

That was it.

Practical, simple things. No noisy electronics or plastic or junk.

It felt a tiny bit like Little House when Mary and Laura each got a peppermint stick and new mittens and were happier than ever.

Okay, not exactly like that, but close.

I've talked about this before and tend to get a lot of emails asking how I got my folks on board.

The truth is, I got off easy. My parents just inherently "get it".

You see, my grandparents went over the top for my sister and I and it troubled my mom. She asked them to ease up and they didn't. (20 gifts for each of us was not unusual on Christmas back then.) And it really bothered her. It was way too much.

So when I asked my mom to give few gifts and ones that aligned with our values she agreed. Embraced it even.

I know for many it isn't so easy. All I can suggest is to keep at it if it is important to you - lovingly and respectfully - and hopefully they'll catch on. Do your best to see their hearts. They are probably doing their best with what they understand and how they see the world.

One resource that might help is the Alternative Gift Registry. Here you can ask for whatever you are wanting and guide your loved ones towards choosing appropriate gifts.

 

And now?

I'm so glad to be home.

Back in the quiet of these hills.

And I'm ready to get on with the rest of winter. To snuggle in and find our rhythm again. Because no matter how magical a holiday is, finding our everyday groove is always cozy comfort.

Winter is here!

Happiest Winter Solstice to you dear friends!

Love,

Rachel

Preparing

Outside and in, it's starting to look like Solstice around here.

Much to the delight of us all, snow began to fall yesterday. More will come today and tomorrow and we couldn't be happier. Our house - somehow - is decorated inside and out, and small handmade gifts are finding their way under our tree. 

Oh how I love Solstice!

Solstice is our the big celebration at our home. We choose to spend Christmas with my parents, so Solstice is the family tradition we have created for just the four of us.

This year's holiday has been simplified. With our move and the flu and my head and heart tied up with events elsewhere in our world, we've focused in on what matters most.

Instead of knitting them each a vest (not a huge project, but too much this season) I made them each the ornament above. Sage's little gnome ornament holds a pouch at his side made from a bit of his baby sling, so my heart gets all gushy when I look at it.

I might make a tradition of crafting an ornament for each of them each year.

Pete also made them each something, and I'll give them each a "Love Coupon" for a special day with me, a homeschooling class, or some other adventure.

When I think back to the many gifts I got as a child I'm happy to provide my kids with a more simple version of Christmas. That it isn't about the stuff, but about the wonder and magic of it all. I'm really feeling that this year.

In the morning the "Solstice Elves" always leave a little something that the children share - this year they are receiving a gift certificate to the local feed store for chicks in the spring. Simple, magical stuff.

Our Solstice tradition involves a bonfire, a mid-night walk in the snow, and staying up "all night" (midnight or later). We make gingerbread houses (though interestingly this year the kids asked to make nativity scenes), dip or roll candles, laugh, and play.

I love it so.

And with that, I'll say goodbye for now. Our celebration will begin tomorrow so I'm going to take a few days to focus inward. Happy Solstice, Hanukkah, Kwanza, Christmas, and Winter to you all!

So much love,
Rachel

And then...

Good morning kind souls.

When I popped in on Tuesday I thought I was on the mend. In reality I was only coming up for air. This flu was a bugger, shape shifting from the standard spiking fever and deep aches variety to something evil that dwells in the intestines.

I do not exaggerate when I say there were moments when I thought I might die.

Lord have mercy. That was really exceptionally hard.

Pete suggested it was a metaphor for the changes we're going through. The purging, the release, the surrender to the now. And maybe it is.

For me it has so many layers that went simply beyond "the sickest I've ever felt". The layers that go so much deeper - into what I value, how I see myself, and how I relate to my family.

I know. Heavy, right? It was just the flu. Pete has always told me I'm an over-thinker.

But here's the kick. It was the flu a week before Solstice. Solstice. Our big celebration. Solstice. The holiday I stay up late into the night crafting magical things for my family - my kids in particular. Solstice. when I pull out all of the crafty stops.

And I was too sick to even knit.

Adorably decorated farm house? Nope. Gluten-free holiday treats? Not happening. Handmade Solstice gifts? Um, no.

And that last one. That was huge for me.

I can't exactly explain why it's so important to me. I guess for me "making" is like love encarnate. It's one really tangible way that I express myself.

I can't make up for last week. I spent six days and six nights in bed. To get done what was on my list, last week was vital. Without it I need to scrap the list and regroup.

I actually had one feverish night where I had knitting nightmares. Somethings about scratchy wool and tangles of yarn with dramatic lighting and dark music. I was trying so hard to finish my kids gifts in time and I already knew it was a lost cause.

We don't do many gifts on Solstice. But we do make them by hand.

So to give that up and throw in the needles (so to speak) was an emotional moment for me. To call the kids in and say, "This year, I just can't do it." felt like failure. Like I was letting them down. But the reality is that it's so inconsequential to them. We haven't made this be a gift-centered celebration, so it was no big deal. They'd rather have more time to snuggle with me and read books and maybe even bake a batch of cookies. They don't need the presents. They just want the celebration.

What I also realized is just how rarely I put myself first. And doing that this past week was vital. I really had no other choice.

And you know, putting myself first once in a while might be downright healthy. (Ya think?)

So maybe this flu has changed me.

Maybe I'll find a way to continue being sensitive to the needs of those I love, but also to awaken to my own.

P.S. The Winter Apothecary will be released tomorrow! And it's lovely. Thanks for your kind contributions.