tuesday's child

Born on a Tuesday in the early evening, on a beautiful Indian Summer's day, Imogen brought a bright vivacity and a tender heart into our family. My dark-haired, home-birthed vbac baby arrived a little late to her own party, but made sure we knew she had finally made it! Such a gentle little soul she has grown into...sometimes a dreamer, sometimes a scamp, but always - always - full of wonder and love for everything around her.

We wish you a very happy fifth birthday,

dear Imogen.

on the allotment

In England, most people's homes don't sit on enough land to support a large fruit and vegetable garden. As early as 1000 years ago, people were clearing and cultivating pieces of land held in common: these were the first allotments - land that is owned by the government, local authority or parish and is rented to individuals who wish to grow food upon it. In the 17th, 18th and 19th centuries, allotments were provided for the landless poor who might otherwise die of starvation. Food shortages during the First and Second World Wars once again proved the importance of these parcels of earth - an estimated 1.3 million tonnes of food were produced on allotments during the 'Dig for Victory' campaign of WWII. Through the 1980s and '90s, high housing and land costs led to a decline in the number of plots available, and 'growing your own' fell out of fashion. However, recent concern about genetically modified produce, a desire to eat more organic, locally-produced food and a yearning for the simple life have all led to an upsurge in the provision and use of allotments.

We took on our first (and second!) allotment plots last March. Our two plots sit alongside each other at the bottom of the hill. We had a choice of plots throughout the field, but I chose these because they get little passing traffic; I didn't want to become famous in the village for my inability to build a bean wigwam or grow onions in straight lines! Back in wet, gray March, I had visions of the whole family, elbow-deep in soil, munching our way through various heritage varieties of fruit and veg that are normally too expensive for us to buy in the shops. I envisaged row upon row of Kilner jars, full of home-canned produce. Yes. Then I came to my senses and realised I would be happy to just produce something! Somethat that lived and that we could eat.

Well. Call it beginner's luck, but we haven't done too badly so far. We started with the leeks we inherited from the former allotmenteer. We've savoured the sweetest, juiciest, reddest strawberries; picked blackcurrants till our fingernails were permanently stained purple; pulled more radishes than one family could possibly eat; popped pod after pea pod in our mouths and freshened our breath with tickly fronds of fennel (or, as the girls call it, 'children's chewing gum'). In short, we done good.

Taking care of a patch of dirt has proved much harder work than I - who have only ever grown food in boxes, pots and bags on concrete patios - ever imagined. Digging through wet clay for ten inches' worth of dandelion root is not exactly fun. But this little rectangle of earth has also proved to be very good for the soul. I have spiked my anger and hurt into icy mud after a particularly unpleasant conversation. I have wondered at the tenacity of pigeons and spent weeks trying to outsmart the crows, who seemed to beat me to every ripening strawberry in the early days of June. I have observed a four-year-old struggle, heave and eventually conquer the weight and sloshingness of a full watering can. I have chuckled at the suprised delight on the face of my littlest as she pulled her first radish from the dirt. I have sighed, knowing childhood is dancing away before my very eyes, as I watched my eldest daughter carefully plant her own tiny seeds, tucking them into their earthy beds and whispering prayers for growth. I have loved my husband more fully, knowing that as he dug potatoes from the soil, he was recollecting a time when he followed at the heels of his grandfather, himself a potato farmer. I have swelled with the pride of a new mother as I've harvested peas, beans, chard and beets: I made you. I grew you.

Many months ago, I declared that my word of this year would be 'grow'. We are indeed growing so very much in this rectangle at the bottom of the field on a hill.

thank you

Oooh! That was the most comments any of my blog posts has ever received! Thank you, lovely readers, for taking the time to read and respond with your ideas about what I should do with the dresser. (And thank you for forgiving all the typos in my last post...proofreading becomes tricky when the little ones wake from naptime.)

I think you were all right - painting the dresser would be a shame. So I've taken your advice and I've left it with the woodgrain showing. Today I began the intricate and time-consuming task of sanding the dark stain out of all the decorative grooves and the door panels. I'm considering investing in a little hobby sander - I've just about removed all my fingerprints trying to get into the tiny corners! (Hmmm. Maybe a bank job could be on the cards now.) At any rate, there is still a fair bit of work needed to chase away all traces of that dark woodstain and finish the beeswaxing. But it can wait.

I also made a decision to put the dresser in the living room; our flooring, bookcases and side tables are oak veneered, so the dresser complements them very nicely. Also, it is ever-so-slightly too wide for the kitchen space in which I intended it to live. I am undecided on what to do with the top half of the dresser. It was intended to display plates, and so only has very shallow shelves. For now it is safe and dry in our coal shed.

We have gained some much-needed storage in the living room. I was able to unpack a box that has been sealed for two and a half years (since we moved to America) - our board games! And the girls' puzzles, wooden train track, Lincoln Logs and Matchbox car collection are now all neatly housed in an easy-to-access but hidden-from-view place.

I am in love.

up against the wall

Before we moved into this house last November, I had visions of giving every wall a fresh coat of paint...something not too far off white to add light and space and just make everything feel clean. I envisioned a blank canvas - having jettisoned so many of our possessions in our emigration attempt two years ago, it felt like an opportunity to start afresh with a new palette. But then the realities of moving house with little ones set in. I managed to paint one whole room and half of another room before we moved in. Now, we are waiting for warmer weather so that we can leave doors and windows open to allow paint fumes to dissipate.

There was one project I did want to get done soon, though. Something fairly small, managable and achievable (for achievable, read: finishable). Something that would make an immediate impact and would (hopefully) create a sense of fun for us and for anyone who walks through the front door.

A chalkboard wall! Maybe it's the teacher in me (truth be told, I'd hate to have to use one every day in the classroom - I can still remember that horrible, teeth-rattling sound of chalk squeaking on board, the dry, dusty feeling chalk leaves on your fingers), but I do love chalkboards. Perhaps it's the inversion of colour - we are used to black ink on white paper. It is surprising and exciting to see stark white lines and swathes of colour explode out of the black surface.

The scale of the writing surface is exciting, too. To have a whole wall upon which to make our mark is inspiring and freeing - think of the spontaneity of graffiti on billboards. The orientation of the chalkboard is just right for a small person who is just beginning to hone her fine motor skills...we aren't forced to hunch over a little rectangle of flimsy paper. We can grasp the chalk with our whole hand and make marks by moving our whole arm. Writing and drawing can be a whole body activity - jumping and kneeling and even laying down can extend the range of our marks...what fun!

There's space for several contributors to collaborate and inspire and weave a story together.

A hot air balloon floating...

...over a sea full of whales and strange fish.

An American flag waving next to the George Cross (England's flag).

You can even surprise and entertain your parents, who didn't know you had taught yourself how to write.

Yes, we are enjoying this chalkboard wall.



this moment: mischief

A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week a couple of weeks ago. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

 

inspired by amanda soule

grow

A lot of peeps in Blogland have been choosing a 'word of the year' for themselves. I've enjoyed and been inspired by reading about these words and the reasons behind the choices. One blogger even asked her readers what their word would be. That got me thinking.

And thinking.

And thinking.

We've put a couple of very intense years behind us. A new job. A new baby (very recently preceded by two other new babies). Two international moves with these three babies. Two new schools and two children starting school. Another new job. And finally, a new home.

I did at first think my word should be something like 'settle' or 'calm'. Because those are two things I'd certainly like to see embodied in my life this year. But I've never been one to sit quietly.

Looking out the window across our lovely little (but biggest by far) new garden towards the fields beyond, it came to me.

Grow.

Now that we are in a position to put down roots again we can begin to think about the act of growing:

• our children growing out of the baby stage and into still little but bigger people
• growing food and flowers in our garden
• personal growth, particularly in the areas of patience, gratitude and intentional living
• growing confidence and skill in hobbies such as woodworking and camping
• growing and cultivating friendships with our new neighbours
• hopefully watching our savings account sprout again, and with any luck grow past the single digits!

I am looking forward to reaching towards the sun this year. Expanding upwards and at the same time, strengthening our root system.

The children in Eva's and Imogen's kindergarten are distinguished into three groups according to their stage of development - the seeds (the youngest), the leaves (the middlings) and the buds (the eldest). Right now, as a family, we are probably still seeds, in the earliest stage of developing. I am truly excited to see where we grow as a family in the coming year.

happy holidays

Hope your holidays have been as joyful as ours! We're continuing our celebrations by traveling to see family tomorrow, but I'll be back in the new year to share our little handmade Christmas with you. And to introduce you to the newest member of our family. A baby, yes. But one of the four-legged variety. Until then, wishing you a peaceful and joyful New Year!

it's been a while

...but we are beginning to feel settled in our new home. And not a moment too soon! With the holidays looming (in the nicest possible way, of course) and a new little one (more on that later) joining our family in the new year, we've hardly stopped for breath. The house is still full of unopened packing boxes, but I've managed to create a little calm in one half of the living room. The Christmas tree is twinkling, there is snow on the ground, and my sewing machine is seeing more action than the vacuum...so all is good in our little house.

on thanksgiving

Today, on this day of Thanksgiving, I have much to be grateful for:

• my family's good health
• a new home, which gives us the stability and security we have been seeking for two years
• secure, family-friendly jobs for both myself and my husband
• a school community that supports us as a family would
• close ties to family, in spite of the great distances that separate us
• friends who have rallied round as we prepare to move house
• and hopefully, good weather for the big move tomorrow.

But mostly, I give thanks for the life of my eldest daughter, who was born six years ago today on another Thanksgiving morning. Her entry into the world was a very traumatic one - one which nearly ended very sadly. But she emerged from her difficult birth perfectly healthy. I have never before and never since been as thankful as I was that day six years ago.

As traumatic as her birth was for both of us, I am also grateful for it. It changed the course of my life, leading me to meet some of the most amazing women I know, leading me to take more responsibility for my own parenting decisions and healthcare choices, leading me to support other women during their journey to motherhood. It made me a stronger person.

Happiest of birthdays to my dear daughter, Eva.

moving house

We are moving. We have been in the process of moving for a week or so now, and we will hit a crescendo of motion on Friday, when we actually obtain a moving van. I thought the two-week overlap we will have had between getting the keys to our new house and surrendering the keys to our rented house would give us plenty of time to paint, make some changes to the layout of the kitchen cupboards, install a dishwasher and new oven, and pack in an orderly fashion. Boy was I wrong. This has been the busiest fortnight we've had in a long time: Martinmas Lantern Walk, Advent Fair, Eva's birthday and birthday party, Advent Spiral Walk....

So far I have painted half of one room. And I have packed about four boxes. But it will happen. We will be in our new home by the end of the weekend. By the end of the weekend, we will be Home.

this moment : checking out our new back garden!

A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week a couple of weeks ago. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

inspired by amanda soule

martinmas

Our Martinmas celebrations took place a few days late, due to the very stormy weather last week. Last night, however, was clear, crisp and awfully cold. And magical. We took our little lanterns and joined the other Kindergarten, Class 1 and Class 2 families for a moonlit lantern walk through the school gardens. The teachers had placed lanterns around the gardens and the girls were delighted to find a tableau of fairies dancing round their own tiny lanterns. We came home to a supper of baked potatoes, eaten by candlelight to prolong the warm glow that will sustain us through winter.