Boreal Witch

Last year I managed to piece together one quilt. I'm still embarrassed to admit that. But I blame pregnancy, water retention, and a baby. So there.

Dear readers, you'll be impressed to know that I have tripled my productivity this year! Three whole quilts! I assure you, however, that I have thought about and planned many, many more. Including one for a dear friend whom I have known since high school. Her quilt is now two years late. Fortunately for me, the top is now finished, but I need to piece together the batting and purchase the backing.

But let's not dwell on that now. Let's see the finished products!

Quilt #1: Pinwheels and Triangles 
I can't recall where this pattern came from now. I found it while browsing an old quilt magazine at my grandmother's house before her funeral. When I returned, I vividly remember storing the pattern directions in a large Ziplock bag along with all of the fabric scraps for the quilt. I must have thrown the pattern out after completing the quilt - something I don't normally do. It took me forever to piece it. I managed to finish all of the blocks the summer of 2011 and sew it together in the fall and quilt it at the very beginning of this year. Like most of my larger quilts, I got tired of it hanging around, so I made the quilt smaller than the original design. There were so many blue and green triangles left over that I made a zig-zag boarder. The quilter said that "made the quilt." I agree completely. It's my favorite part of the quilt. I made this for a wedding gift for my friend Shannon, who was my VISTA volunteer for a year. She and her husband both loved it!    

Quilt #2: Rectangle 9-Patch
My friend Mona went to Hawaii for the summer of 2011 and returned with a stack of rectangles for me, all Hawaiian-themed. I was pretty excited because I knew that I would be making Mona a quilt from those scraps of fabric. I decided on a simple 9-patch, but I would keep the rectangular shape instead of cutting the pile down to squares. The quilt was a breeze to put together. I even found sea shell fabric for the backing. The quilter said that she never would have dared to use the mustard-colored fabric for the sashing and the boarder, but that was beautiful. We decided on a floral design for the quilting and a maroon thread. Mona loved it! She didn't want to use it because she said it was too beautiful, but was afraid to display it because she didn't want it to get dirty. Mona moved this fall, and I was so happy that I was able to give her such a lovely gift before she had to go. I even had enough rectangles left over for another quilt for a dear college friend who will be getting married soon...the question is: can I get it to her before the wedding? 

Quilt #3: Bear Claw Wallhanging
My mom asked me to make her a wallhanging to display her employment pins. Her favorite color is blue and I was able to piece it together quickly. It was a bit trickier to quilt it, since I don't get much regular practice, but it turned out very pretty (even though there are more than a few mistakes!). It was one of the easiest quilts I've made in a long, long while! Mom loved it.

 Next year, I plan to do something monumental: I want to make a quilt for myself. I have already decided on the pattern and the colors. It's going to be beautiful and a lovely addition to the bedroom. Not to mention a godsend in the summer when it gets unbearably hot, yet I can't not have a blanket covering me. I also hope to finish two wedding quilts, a wedding wallhanging, and a quilt for a friend who moved but moved back.

Well, I'd better get started!

Blessed be.

I love Yule. It is perhaps one of my favorite holidays.

My fondness began about ten years ago when Robinson and I were newlyweds. We wanted to blend Christmas and Yule traditions (a la Chrismukka), so we burned a Yule log (before we sawed the bottom of the Christmas tree it was christened the "Holiday 2x4"), created ornaments celebrating the most important events of the year, and made "Yule wishes" for the next year. We also celebrated by eating two large, festive meals and opening presents. 

Due to this massive celebration, Yule and Christmas became important means of closing out the year. It's fun to reflect on all of the interesting things that happened to us over the course of a year. We aren't so good at celebrating other holidays (except for Halloween), but I love our traditions.

When Robinson and I had Arthur, we decided not to indulge in the Santa myth. We felt so strongly about it, that I even told my mother (who at one time had a collection of Christmas-themed sweatshirts that would have made Santa himself envious) to not send presents that were addressed "To: Arthur, From: Santa".

This year is the first year that Arthur really realized that there was a guy named Santa and that this guy brought GIFTS to good kids! The funny thing is, though, he never seemed particularly interested in learning more about Santa, never asked us about him, even though fist fights were breaking out in preschool over whether or not there was, in fact, a Santa.

Even when asked if Santa brought him gifts, he answered "No," directly and forcefully and then went on and on about getting lots of gifts from family. It took a few people aback. Even after that, he didn't ask about Santa. Had he asked us, we would have answered truthfully. We don't want to purposefully lie to our children and we've already had to deal with some difficult issues (such as Oldma's death).

Arthur's favorite present by far was his new shovel from Great-Grandma Trask. I hope this boy is as passionate about shoveling snow when he's 15 as he is now. The Legos from his Auntie Blythe were a close second. Balin loved the Clifford books from his Auntie Becky and his Great-Aunt Gloria. When he unwrapped them, he sat in my lap and demanded to read them!

It was a lovely holiday. We were thankful for all of the lovely gifts that our families and friends had gotten us.

Blessed be.

I may have overdone it with the turkey. Just a bit.

I've slowly been making my way through chopping, cooking, and packaging freezer meals: turkey pumpkin chili, turkey pot pie, and turkey taco soup...tomorrow I'll be making turkey adobo. This is in addition to the regular meals we've made with the turkey: turkey noodle soup, sweet turkey curry soup, and turkey tetrazzini...

I think I'm done with turkey. Good thing these freezer meals don't have to be eaten at once!

Blessed be.

We deliberately bought a 19 pound turkey this year for just the four of us.

Before you object, declaring me wasteful and decadent, we really will eat it all - and not just in sandwiches, either. I am planning to make as many meals as possible from it and then freezing them in individual portions for Robinson to take to work, or in family-sized portions for us. You know how I feel about my freezer meals!

I prepared two meals Thanksgiving night: a turkey pumpkin chili and a turkey pot pie. While the chili smelled amazing, the turkey pot pie used more Thanksgiving leftovers (I'm happy to report that we're already out of mashed potates!)...which is why I am including the recipe.

On the Menu: Thanksgiving Leftover Turkey Pot Pie
1/2 medium sized onion, chopped finely
1 carrot, sliced
1 stalk celery, sliced
4 oz mushrooms, sliced
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 tbs. butter
1 can cream of mushroom soup
1/2 cup milk
1 tsp. dried thyme
1/2 tsp. dried rosemary
1/4 tsp. pepper
1 1/2-2 cups turkey
1/2 cup frozen peas
mashed potatoes, for topping

1. Combine butter, onion, carrot, celery, and mushrooms in a large pot. Saute until mushrooms and onions are softened, about 5 minutes.

2. Add cream of mushroom soup, milk, thyme, rosemary, and pepper. Bring to a boil. Add turkey and frozen peas. Stir until combined.

3. Remove from heat and pour into a 9-inch pie plate. Place mashed potatoes on top. Bake at 350 degrees for about 20 minutes, or until top is golden brown and mixture is bubbly.

**This meal can also be frozen! Freeze the mashed potatoes and filling separately. When thawed, assemble as above.

Blessed be.

After Balin was born and I, confined to the glider rocking that baby to sleep constantly, rediscovered my love of reading. Since then, I have made a special effort to read a book a month. Sometimes I'm successful and sometimes I'm not, but I really like that I am once again perusing a wide range of works: non-fiction, fiction, science-fiction, parenting...the list goes on.

My current read is The Feminine Mystique. I had never read it, though it was mentioned throughout my undergraduate career. I'm not sure exactly what I anticipated - something academic, definitely - but I am really surprised at how much I can relate to the subject matter in this book.

And I don't think I would have been able to identify so fully with what Friedan is saying had I not been a stay-at-home-mom. Her life in the 1960's is my life now.

Throughout the endless dishes, laundry, repetitious days, and carting the kids around, I sometimes wonder: "Is this as good as it gets?"

or: "Is there more to my life than diapers, vomit, tantrums, and nagging?"

or: "What do I want?"

or: "Who am I?"

I am the mother of two boys and the wife of my husband. But I am also myself.

As much joy being a mother is, sometimes I feel utterly lost the sea of motherhood; I feel as though I am drowning and I can't reach the life raft, no matter how hard I try. There are days when I despair at how I can't seem to find a moment to collect my own thoughts. When I do, they appear to be so incoherent that no one except myself can decipher them ("...put whole wheat flour on the grocery list...remember to take a homemade musical instrument to preschool...wash the windows...wipe those smudges off the mudroom doorframe...email so-and-so...pay the electric bill...replace checks in checkbook...").

It's demanding work to care for your family. I've made so many sacrifices and my children don't give a damn about that now. Maybe they will someday, but not now - it's too broad, too vague for them to understand. They just want someone to play with, read with, and - most of all - to love them. And I can do it, but what about me?

What do I need?

I need love and support. I need to know that my efforts are valued and appreciated. I need to know that I'm doing something right. I need time to nurture myself. Most of all, I need time to create and to be creative. It's such an important part of who I am that I'd be lost if I didn't.

Can I count on obtaining these things? Maybe. As the boys get older, there will be more time for creating. Until then, I must make time and work around the boys' schedules.

Sacrifice. It's the way of the stay-at-home-parent.

Blessed be.

My friend Hillary and I swap out babysitting duty on days we're responsible for parent volunteering at preschool. Yesterday I dropped off Balin and picked up Hillary's daughter, Ayla, and took Arthur and Ayla to school.

When we returned, we all went inside to hang out for a half hour before we had to pick up Robinson. When I walked through the door, I noticed Hillary was watching a movie, which the older kids immediately gravitated to.

"Oh, look, that woman's having a baby!" Hillary exclaimed before snapping shut the laptop.

As we were driving toward Robinson's office Arthur asked, "How do babies hatch out of women?"

I asked him to repeat the question to make sure I heard him correctly.

Ohhhhhh, crap.

"Well, there's a special place inside of mommies where the baby lives until it's ready to come out. It's called a womb."

"But how does the baby come out?"

"You know how you have a hole for pooping and a hole for peeing?"

"Yeah."

"Well, women have three holes: one for peeing, one for pooping, and one for having babies."

"Oh."

There is no doubt in my mind that this will somehow come up in a future conversation, leaving myself and/or Robinson a little flustered and/or embarrassed.

Blessed be.

A few weeks ago when I asked Arthur what he'd like to take to preschool for a snack he said (without hesitation): "Granola bars! With chocolate chips!" (You can bet that the next time I parent volunteered I took a closer look at what his peers were eating.)

I found a couple simple recipes for granola bars and modified them to suit my own tastes. Since these bars contained chocolate chips, I immediately cut out some of the sugar and added some ground flax seeds. Arthur liked the chocolate chip granola bars, but I liked the dried fruit bars even better.

Which got me thinking...couldn't I just make granola using this recipe?

Yes. Yes, I could.

The preparation is a bit involved, but one batch of this granola generally lasts my family a week. It's just sweet enough and packed with healthy additives.

Granola
Makes approximately 12 servings
Adapted from Ina Garten's granola bar recipe; original recipe here

2 cups oats
1 cup unsweetened coconut
1 cup chopped nuts (we like cashews best, but pecans or almonds would work well)
1/2 cup ground flaxseed
2/3 cup honey
3 tbs butter
1 1/2 tsp vanilla
1/4 tsp salt
1/2 cup raisins
1/2 cup dried apricots
1/2 cup dates
butter or coconut oil for greasing pan

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Place oats, coconut, and nuts on a large pan and toast in the oven for 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, chop fruit. Grease large cookie sheet or pizza pan. Put honey, vanilla, salt, and butter in a small saucepan and bring to a boil. Mix fruit, flaxseed, and oat mixture together. Add honey mixture and stir well.

Pour into prepared pan and bake at 350 for 18-20 minutes. When cool crumble into bite-sized pieces and store in an air-tight container.

Blessed be.

Early this year I decided to have a craft table at Ryan Middle School's spring craft fair/garage sale.

It went horribly, horribly wrong.

It's polite to say that it was more rummage sale than craft fair (Robinson would have just said it was all crap).

For a few days I moped around before I decided that I would try again, but this time during one of the holiday bazaars around Thanksgiving or Christmas. On a whim in early September I went to the UAF Women's Association page and found that the deadline for renting a table was...September 8th??? Less than a week away!

I gathered everything I'd need to get my table and sent it off. About two weeks later, I received a letter saying I was ready to go.

For the next two months, I sewed like a mad woman. I made octopus. I made starfish. I finished up a few carriers. Robinson even got a Square and set up my account so that I could take credit cards.

And...?

It was great!

I met a lot of nice people and sold a lot of merchandise. After all was said and done, I made about $300.

I've also found a few other cool ideas online...

So does this mean I'll be doing it again?

Yes, I think it does!

Blessed be. 

When I was a kid, I didn't know anyone who didn't celebrate Halloween. My sisters and I loved dressing up and going door-to-door. We greatly anticipated sorting through our haul afterward, trading candy and discarding the items we didn't want. (These pieces were usually eaten by our father. The pieces he didn't want sat until the following March...just in time for Easter.)

As I got older and started to mingle with a younger generation of kids, I became completely baffled by the number of children who didn't celebrate Halloween. "It's evil," they'd say.

Evil?

Really?

I couldn't fathom what was so evil about dressing up and Trick-or-Treating. I thought the whole matter was utterly ridiculous.

As it turns out, the rise of Evangelicalism has brought about more than a wave of ignorance. It's brought back the Harvest Festival.

Brought back? you say.

Interestingly enough, Halloween is more of a Christian holiday than it is a Pagan one. Many European groups (most notably the Celts) celebrated Harvest Festivals as a time to celebrate the end of fall and to prepare for the beginning of winter. As the Christian belief system started integrating with the local Pagan customs, new rituals emerged: wearing costumes to prevent soul-snatching and requesting treats in exchange for prayers.

Different traditions continued to meld until Halloween was eventually formed into the holiday we know and love. It seems that many avid Evangelicals have forgotten its Christian roots and instead have claimed it as Satanic.

Here in Fairbanks I don't recall a church that didn't have a Harvest Festival this year (except for the Mormons - we attended their Halloween Canival and Trunk-or-Treat Extravaganza - rock on, Mormons, rock on). Signs broadcasted that on the night of October 31st, there would be no Halloween - just the Harvest Festival.

The whole situation is deliciously ironic: Christianity, in its attempt to stomp out Pagan rituals, has re-kindled the very rite they tried to extinguish. I smile knowingly whenever I see a "Harvest Festival" sign.

Additionally, we also had the pleasure of seeing a Halloween picketer on the corner of College and University just a weekend ago. His sign read, "Halloween is Satanic. America will be judged."

Apperantly he didn't get the memo either.

My thoughts? If you are truly Christian, go on. Wear that costume. Go trick-or-treating with your kids. Enjoy Halloween. Don't worry about whether or not God's going to strike you down. Halloween's been around since the late 12th century. If God were going to punish anyone for dressing up and demanding treats, He would have done it by now.

And if you're Pagan? Go ahead, dress up. Eat some candy. But roast a chicken and braise some root vegetables as well. Give thanks for the fall and make a mental list of all the winter preparations you'll need to do. Celebrate your loved ones who have departed within the last year. Thank them for all that they taught you.

Me? I'm off to get some more Halloween candy.

Blessed be.

Arthur didn't have school on the 26th, so we invited his friends over for a Halloween Party. While some people are not wild about getting a party favor after a party, I love giving out party favors. I think it's a nice way to express gratitude for someone coming over and spending time with you. That being said, I don't always like receiving party favors because inevitably they are little made-in-China-pieces-of-crap that end up shattering when I accidentally step on them. So, when I do give favors, I try and give something small, useful, fun, and homemade.

Thus, the troll booger.

I found a recipe for "gak" online and made some for the party. Arthur helped me stuff the bags and print and stick on the labels. He seemed pretty excited about the "boogers."

As the party wound down, I told the kids that Arthur and I went under our house and collected some troll boogers for everyone. As his friend Jade was getting ready to leave, she asked what the green stuff was. Amanda told her it was a troll booger that we had collected from the trolls under our house. Jade could play with the booger, but could not eat it.

After all his friends left, Arthur asked why we had trolls living under our house.

I wasn't sure if he was honestly curious or if he was playing along with the game I began, so I told him the trolls liked our house because it was just the right size. Other houses on the block were too small or too big or had mean dogs, but not our house. So they wanted to live here.

Eventually I asked him if he'd like to make some bread for the trolls. He screamed, "YES!"

There is some method to my madness. It is customary to make bread for the dead around Halloween for the spirits. I wasn't sure if Arthur would understand that concept (what is a spirit anyway?), but I knew he would (sort of) understand if the trolls were given bread to eat. One day, when he's a little older and wiser, he'll be able to make the transition from trolls to spirits a little easier. I hope.

On the Menu: Troll Bread
Serves 4 Trolls
adapted from Chikousky Farms (recipe here)

Starter:
2 cups flour
2 cups kefir

Bread:
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tbs. sugar
1 1/5 tbs. butter, melted
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
1/2 cup rye flour
extra butter for greasing pans
raisins for decorating

Mix together ingredients for the starter. Let sit for about 24 hours in a warm place.

When starter is ready, mix together the rest of the ingredients. Let sit for about an hour or two in a warm place to rise. Knead the dough into troll shapes and decorate with raisins. Put on a greased pan and bake at 350 degrees for about 20 minutes (or until nicely browned on the outside).

Place on a plate and set outside for the trolls.   

Blessed be.

It's the last three months of the year. My tongue says, "Into my mouth, sweets!" but my waistline says, "No, no, NO!!!"

Even when given an opportunity to throw away those tempting sugary sweets I won't do it. Example: I made too much frosting for Arthur's Halloween party. He begged and begged to squeeze out the rest of the frosting...but I hate to let good frosting go to waste, so I promised to make cookies over the weekend. Sugar cookies. The frostable kind. (You can find the recipe here. Make them with the brandy instead of milk. You will not regret it.)

We decorated the cookies while Balin napped. Arthur loved squeezing the frosting onto the cookies and trying to make designs (even though most of his efforts created little frosting worms instead of actual shapes or designs).

I frosted a pumpkin. Arthur liked it so much he ate it. I find that he has a knack for choosing the "best-looking" thing and wanting it, even if he didn't make it. The boy's got good taste; someday he and I will have to go antiquing and redecorate the house together.

I think Arthur's going to have a blast this year when we create another entry for Fairbanks' annual gingerbread house competition. Not only will he be able to put candy on the house, but he'll be able to use the cake decorating tips to distribute the frosting as well. Balin will have fun decorating (and eating the candy), but Arthur will enjoy making the gingerbread house on so many other levels.

Blessed be.

My friend, Sarah, insists that using a digital camera manually is so easy. All of the settings seemed so intimidating to me: Aperture, ISO, flash or not...WHAT AM I DOING???

Full auto, always full auto.

Recently, I realized that using a camera manually could not possibly be the hardest thing I've ever done. For Goddess sake, I traveled half-way around the world to Israel, got my Master's degree, had two babies without pain medication, and climbed the Golden Staircase. Surely I could figure out my camera's settings.

For the past few weeks, I've been experimenting. These are my favorite (or best) pictures of the bunch.

Arthur had a ticket to the Pioneer Park train that expired over Labor Day weekend. Since we hadn't spent a lot of time at Pioneer Park this summer, we went for a ride on the train and a chance to play at the park before it got too cold. Here are my two little monkeys waiting in line for the Pioneer Park train. Balin was not into the picture-taking and after a while, Arthur wasn't all that excited about it either. The background isn't the nicest, but the expressions on the boys' faces are fun and they seem to be having a good time...sort of.


The one on the left is a new favorite pictures. The feel of movement, his natural smile, and the fun background. The composition of the picture is nice, too - very well-balanced. He looks like he's springing into action!


The one on the right is of my boys. Balin was ready to take off running, and Arthur put a protective arm around Balin to prevent him from fleeing. The colors are beautiful and the boys' expressions are priceless. 

The barrel in these photos is actually what inspired me to take these two pictures. We set Balin on the barrel, hoping he would sit quietly without squirming. He did, but it was quite obvious he didn't want to be there. After Arthur saw how much "fun" Balin was having on the barrel, he wanted to sit up there and get his picture taken, too. He even has a semi-natural smile going on (a rarity for him!).  

If I had taken the time to crop this picture, I think it would be a pretty good one. The light post on the left is distracting, and contrasts too sharply with the antique "feel" of the surrounding objects. I like the penetrating look Arthur is giving the camera. The composition isn't as nice as some of the other pictures, but I think I like it more for the subject than I do the background.


Although the picture on the left appears to be really nice, I did not have the shutter speed set correctly, so one of Balin's hands is blurry. He was signing "all done" because he wanted to play. I'm going to be so sad when he outgrows this little blue coat.

The one on the right was another "accident." We were walking through Creamer's Field and I snapped an over-the-shoulder shot of Balin. This was the result.



Arthur has a certain fondness for bridges. If he had a list of his favorite things, bridges would be in the top four, along with excavators, dump trucks, and pipes. I made him get on the side of the bridge, so he looks a little lost (cranky?) in this picture. The red jacket is a lovely touch.  The picture on the right is him running across the bridge. I also encountered the same problem with shutter speed in this picture as I did with the one of Balin. If you look at Arthur's feet, they are blurry. Still, the composition and color are excellent. It's one of my favorites.

I plan on practicing this winter, too...I think I may have found a new hobby!

Blessed be.

I've been setting little goals for myself over the last year. For instance, I've been trying to be more mindful of how much water or electricity I use. I now consistently take a three-minute shower. I thought I would miss a five or six-minute shower, but I don't.

A more serious issue for me, though, is kinds of cleaning products I use. It all started when I found a book at Gulliver's about making your own cleaning agents. (You can find information about it here.) I've made many of the cleaners in this book and have so far loved every single one of them. I spend a fraction of the cost of traditional cleansers and soaps because most of these recipes have vinegar and lemon juice in them - both of which I can find in bulk at Sam's Club for less than $10. Total. These two items last for six months - at least - and make gallons and gallons of cleaning solutions. Since then, I've gradually tried to rid the house of harsh chemicals and synthetic cleaners.

I've even stopped buying hand soap. I make my own now. I put it in a small plastic jar with one of those foaming dispensers and keep it next to my kitchen sink. It is awesome. I found the recipe online and while you can use it in a regular soap dispenser, it works much better if it's in a foaming one. I know you all are dying to get the recipe, so here it is!

All-natural Foaming Hand Soap
1 cup water
1/4 cup Castile soap
1 tsp. almond, hemp, or jojoba oil
10 drops essential oil of your choice

Since making my own cleaners and limiting my showers to three minutes were going so well, I now have another small goal: to use reusable feminine hygiene products. (Yeah, some may scoff and say that this is too much information, but hey, this is my blog - I'll write about whatever I want!)

I am now in the process of turning some old cloth diapers into inserts for pads. They work great and I don't feel like I'm contributing to the destruction of the ozone or rainforest or arctic sea ice. I've finished half of them and will be finishing the other half after the Women's Bazaar in early November, when I finally have a little more time for personal projects.

Do your part! Find something you can do to cut down on waste and do it!

Blessed be.

It's that time of year again!

...Didn't I say that about blueberry picking? Potatoes and blueberries go hand in hand, really. One does both of those activities in the fall...

In any case, it's potato time!

I felt like it took forever for the potatoes to be ready. I thought for sure they would be ready Labor Day weekend. A quick drive to the fields determined that they needed a bit more time. Finally, we got the call and raced to the potato fields.

The boys stood transfixed by the potato digger. When the tractor and plow dug up a row of potatoes Arthur, Robinson, and I got to work. Balin contented himself with playing in the dirt.

Last year, we picked 150 lbs. of potatoes. Sadly, I'd guess that about 50 lbs. went bad before we could process them (we stored them in the arctic entry and they froze). This year we were much more judicious in our potato selection. We chose small and medium potatoes and avoided potatoes with cracks or scars. We also bought 100 lbs., which turned out to be perfect. It also helped that we bought four additional dehydrator trays so we were able to dehydrate twice as many hash browns at one time.

In the end, we canned 21 cans of potatoes, dehydrated 3 gallon-sized bags of hash browns, and froze 6 quart-sized containers of mashed potatoes. We had about 30 lbs. of potatoes left, so I created this soup to eat up some of the extra potatoes. Sadly, it's not a meal I can freeze, but it's so good, I promise there won't be any leftovers.

Enjoy!

On the Menu: Creamy Potato Soup
1 carrot
1 stalk celery
1/2 onion
3 large potatoes
3 tbs. butter
1/4 cup flour
2 1/2 cups water + 1 bullion cube or 1 cup broth + 1 1/2 cups water
1 cup milk
salt and pepper to taste


Garnishes (opt): green onions, bacon, sour cream, cheddar cheese

1. Melt butter in a large pot. Saute chopped celery, carrot, onion, and potatoes until onions are transparent, about 5 minutes.

 2. Add flour to pot and coat vegetables thoroughly. Add water and bullion cube or water and broth and stir well. Bring to a boil and simmer for approximately 10-15 minutes, or until vegetables are tender. The liquid in the pot will thicken.

3. Pour vegetables and liquid into a blender and blend well. You may need to blend in batches. Return the puree to the large pot and add milk. Heat through, then serve with garnishes.

Blessed be.

Dear Arthur,

Today you begin an incredible journey.

You start school.

Today you start learning about respect toward your peers, words, new games and songs. You will develop a strong foundation and scholastic excellence. You will begin to become a boy and am no longer my baby.

I am tearing up as I write this, not because I miss the baby that you were, but because I am anxious to see the boy (and then the man) that you will become. I am tearing up because you have taught me so much and I hope that I have taught you a few things, too. I am tearing up because I am so full of love for you that I can't articulate it. I need to show it.

Learn a lot. Be brave. Have a great year. I will always be waiting for you when you get out of school to give you a hug and ask you how class was.

Love, Mommy

Blessed be.  

It's that time again...berry picking time!

Blueberries, specifically.

And we LOVE our blueberries. The boys could eat them on their own; I prefer them in something, such as muffins or pancakes.

Arthur was interested in supervising. He'd walk from Robinson to me back to Robinson all the while saying, "Look how many blueberries I have in my bucket...I need a new patch...No, Balin, don't eat all the blueberries! We need to save them for the winter." Given enough incentive, Arthur picked quite a few berries. Those were usually eaten or "saved" (and then forgotten) for later.

Balin would constantly try to steal blueberries from my bucket. He also had a difficult time navigating through bushes and walking on the uneven ground so he fell often. He nearly upturned my blueberry bucket a couple of times. Since we picked so late, he was always a touch crabby. I tried to keep him happy by plying him with blueberries. For the most part, it worked.  

It took us four evening trips to get almost 2 gallons of blueberries. With the distance to the blueberry patches and cost of gas what it is, it doesn't seem like it would have been worth it. Still, the lovely weather and the fun memories more than made up for it.

Someday these boys will be expert pickers.

Blessed be.

We try very hard to make at least one trip to Anchorage every summer. This year, however, we got to make two! Arthur was in heaven. He loves getting spoiled by his Nana and playing with his cousins. Well, mostly Molly, since Josh barely tolerates him and Ella is too young to be bossed around.

I know I've mentioned this in past posts, but Molly and Arthur get along very well, which is kind of surprising since he doesn't always get along with his other friends. I remember playing with my two cousins in the summers when we visited family. Both were very close in age to me and my sisters and we tended to get along nicely as well.

This was Balin's fourth trip to Anchorage. He was a dream. He loved following Nana's cat around and would look for her every time he came upstairs. He played well with Ella and Molly. He even let Mom and Blythe babysit him while Arthur, Becky, Molly, Ella, and I attended a birthday party for one of Molly's friends. Blythe admitted to stealing him when my back was turned.

The best part of the trip for Arthur was not getting spoiled or eating at restaurants, or even playing with Molly. No, the best part of the trip by far was that we flew home on an airplane. (You see, Robinson was on-call the weekend we planned to come back. He managed to get us some very reasonable tickets with miles.) It's amazing how something as mundane as going on an airplane is so exciting to a four-year-old. Balin, who had never been on a plane before, was very good. I was relieved and pleased.

Blessed be.

The Duffy's love fish.

But they can't fish. It's the Duffy Curse.

Robinson tells me stories of camping with his family in which they would bring tarter sauce, cheese, and rice. They always intended to catch fish for supper...but they never did. They could spend hours upon hours, cast upon cast, but never get a single bite. Fate constantly toyed with them and even Aaron, who was the family's "woodsman," was no match for her antics.

The year or so after Robinson arrived in Alaska, he caught a pink in Valdez. Finally, it seemed, his luck had turned. He was a real fisherman now.

Oh, Fate, you naughty girl.

Dustun's family owns a bit of property in Sterling and they invited us to fish with them this weekend. We arrived Saturday morning, pumped and ready to fish.

I really won't go into many details, except to say that Robinson and I worked that river for a good portion of the day and didn't get a single bite.

To make matters worse, Dustun's half brother Adam was catching things left and right.

To rub salt in the gaping wound, right after we left, EVERY SINGLE PERSON THERE caught a fish. 

Luckily, we are members of a lovely family who share what they have and Robinson managed to drive back to Anchorage to fill our freezer full of fish. So, thank you, everyone!

All humor aside, it was a great trip. Arthur and Robinson rode on Dustun's 4-wheeler (or a "Scrambler" according to Arthur). Note the HUGE smile on Arthur's face. I even got to drive it.

The kids had fun playing together. Arthur practiced casting with his new fishing pole. He even tried casting in the water. He was so excited about it that I think we're going to have to take him fishing again soon.

Arthur wasn't the only one who was excited about fishing. Josh borrowed Robinson's pole and was soon begging for one for Christmas.

Maybe his luck will be better than Robinson's!

Blessed be.

These boys love oatmeal, but they don't love leftover oatmeal.

Who does?

What was a grand, healthy, and filling breakfast the day before is an unappetizing mass of grey, lumpy stuff that looks (maybe I shouldn't go there) a little like vomit. I never eat leftover oatmeal. I just can't.

Robinson made a ginormous pot of oatmeal one morning and unfortunately...there were leftovers. What was I going to do with 2 cups of cooked oatmeal?

Certainly not eat it...

MUFFINS TO THE RESCUE!!!

Fortunately, these boys also love muffins. Granted, they aren't the most healthy food item in the world (being a sugary baked good and all), but they are generally super yummy. I made these muffins to use up some expired yogurt as well as take care of the oatmeal. I tried to maintain a certain level of healthy, but eat at your own risk. (And I bet you can't eat just one!)



On the Menu: Kitchen Sink Leftover Oatmeal Muffins
Makes 12

1 cup leftover oatmeal
1/2 cup whole wheat pastry flour
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. sea salt
1 tsp. cinnamon or ginger
1 egg
1/3 - 1/2 cup brown sugar (sweeten to your preference)
1 8oz container greek yogurt (any flavor*)
1/3 cup coconut oil, melted

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Place all ingredients in a mixer or large bowl. Mix until just combined. Grease muffin tin or line with paper cups. Divide mixture evenly between muffin tins. Bake for 20-25 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center of the muffin comes out clean.

* I have made these muffins with pineapple yogurt, 1 tsp. ginger, and 1/4 cup unsweetened coconut as well as blueberry yogurt and 1/2 a banana. I thought the blueberry muffins were much better than the pineapple ones. Feel free to mix it up, think outside the box, and be creative!

Blessed be.

It's been about a week since I've been back from the Chilkoot. I was gone for 9 heavenly days. It's taken me that long to get adjusted to "normal life" again.

As soon as I am able (meaning whenever I have tons and tons of time on my hands), I will be posting details and pictures about our trip here. There's so much to say about it that I could never really do it justice in a single blog entry.

What I will say here is that I met so many wonderful and fascinating people on the trip. I learned so much about the history of the Chilkoot (it's an archaeologist's dream - there's so much stuff laying on the trail). I now know a few tips about hiking and backpacking. But most of all, (as cliche as it sounds) I now know a little bit about myself.

I know for a fact that time spent alone is an absolute luxury. It's marvelous to be able to sit by yourself, studying the world around you, and not having to take care of anyone but yourself. It's amazing. I've been home a week and I already miss it. Don't get me wrong; I love my family. There's just something so wonderfully simple about not having to put anyone's needs before your own. My first Chilkoot Resolution, therefore, is to make more time for myself.

My second Chilkoot Resolution is to get plenty of exercise and drink more water. My body and mind really responded to being outdoors and hiking for 4-hour stretches. I felt confident and capable. It was an awesome feeling.

My last Chilkoot Resolution is to take it one step at a time. I won't lie. While the Chilkoot was fun, there were times that were absolutely miserable. The last mile into Sheep Camp and making it over the Summit are two that spring to mind. There wasn't a chance to give up. We had to push through because the parks service staff were not going to let us camp next to the trail. These two events will be a constant reminder of being consistent: get comfortable, set your pace, then keep going. 

All of these resolutions seem rather silly - and they are. These are things that I should have been doing all along, but because I was caught up in living life, they weren't. I am now on a quest to make them happen. It's not going to be easy (but when is life ever easy?), but if I continue to stick with it, I'm confident that I'll be a little happier in the end.

Blessed be.

For the last few years, I've been making more of an effort to forage for food, mostly for blueberries and raspberries. My past Augusts have been very, very busy for the most part. Imagine my surprise when I saw ripe raspberries the other day.

Could it already be time? I wondered. And the blueberries? Are they ready, too?

While Balin took his morning nap, Arthur and I biked to a cluster of raspberries in our neighborhood and took a look. We brought a bucket just in case. We weren't disappointed: raspberries galore and plenty more that weren't quite ready yet! We picked for about a half hour and then rode back home.

We also went picking at a neighbor's house, promising her jam if she let us pick there (she didn't refuse). We took our second batch of picked berries home, added them with our first batch, measured them out, and then made some jam.

Now these boys like - no, love - jam. We made 17 half-pints last August and they were gone by January. It didn't help that Arthur ate several half-pints of jam by himself (by the spoonful) before winter even began. His jam-eating habits only rival my sister Becky's. She was known to spread cupfuls of jam on one slice of bread. The real magic of that feat was that somehow the bread never seemed to get soggy and the jam never fell off.

This year I'm hoping that I will be able to can at least 25 jars of jam. This is in addition to the 10 bags of blueberries I hope to pick and 100 lbs of potatoes I hope to preserve. Oh, yes, and the rhubarb. And there might be halibut fishing. Now I just need to send the boys out to wrestle that moose that's always in our yard and we'll be set!

Blessed be.

I had pulled out my old library discard Circle Round: Raising Children in the Goddess Tradition. It had been a while since I had opened it. It had been a while since I've celebrated a Wiccan holiday (I even missed Summer Solstice this year. It's been a busy summer) and I wanted to start accumulating ideas for Lammas, a holiday we've never celebrated.

Robinson saw me flipping through the book and asked what I was doing. I explained that I was looking for ideas for Lammas, which falls on August 1st.

Then we got into a rather lengthy discussion about our children and religion.

It's not like we don't talk about religion in our house. Most of the time we simply live our day-to-day life without the need for it. We don't go to church. We don't pray before meals. We don't encourage (or discourage) our children to believe in a God, Gods, or a Goddess. We don't have weekly Bible study. Perhaps some of you feel that we are doing our children a disservice.

But I don't think so.

I have many problems with the Bible. Chalk up my unbelief to: numerous inherent contradictions, misogamy, culturally inappropriate to modern day, and (my personal favorite) a God who acts like a 2 year old. I cannot worship a deity who throws tantrums when his followers misbehave. 

Don't get me wrong. There is something to be said about having faith. Faith can get you through hard times and challenging events. Faith can cement relationships and build new ones. But it's not an end-all. There are certain things that faith simply cannot do. I fear the people who exist on blind faith the most.

In the meantime, our discussion made me realize that I should be making more of an effort to celebrate the Wiccan holidays with my family. I enjoy watching Arthur get so excited about Yule and would like him to have that feeling throughout the year, not just during Yule.

Blessed be.

Arthur went to camp last week. A whole three hours for a whole week. I was excited, but truth be told, I was also a little nervous. He has a tendency to be highly emotional and I was worried he would cry - no wail, scream - as I left. But he didn't. His friend Jade showed up as I was leaving and, in the words of Jade's mom, "they started making out." They were hugging and kissing each other for comfort because the both of them were nervous about being there.

By the end of the week, Arthur was a bit more comfortable being left at camp, but he still wasn't very social. It seemed as though he didn't really interact with the other kids or the counselors. It took us an hour each day to try and get him to tell us about all of the camp activities he did. He won the "Camp Listener" award at the after-camp party.

All in all, it seems like he had a pretty good time. He says he doesn't want to go back next year.

He told us on the last day that he cried because he didn't want to put on more bug dope (in his defense, he did wake up at 5:00am and pretty strung out by the time camp even started).

Sometimes I'm upset because he isn't more social. I worry about him getting bullied. I get sad when he doesn't play with his friends, but begs me to play with him. Then I remember that he's not me. He may have come from me and there is a part of me in him, but he's not me. He's not outgoing. He's not an extrovert. He's not me. He's his own person. He has his own special qualities. He's exceptionally bright. He's creative. He's a builder. He loves to cook. His mind is like a steel trap. His memory and recollection of facts is incredible. He's interested in science and math. The other day he did two pages of first grade math. I wouldn't be at all surprised if he becomes an engineer. I suspect he's gifted. But he's hypersensitive.

Apparently hypersensitivity is pretty normal for gifted kids. And it doesn't go away, they just become more skilled at coping with their emotions. Maybe someday he'll be able to calm himself down instead of throwing a screaming, crying fit. We're still working on it. I find myself at times frustrated by his uncontrollable emotions. I wonder if this is how my own parents felt with me and how Robinson's parents felt with him. The both of us were very bright kids and often displayed over-the-top dramatics. As with anything in life, we take the good with the bad.

Our experiences shape us and lead us to be the person we are. I may have a hard time with Arthur's emotions but I need to be there for him because who else is going to teach him how to act appropriately? He will never be able to reach his full potential unless I help him develop some coping strategies.

I'm not sure how to do it. But I need to try.

Blessed be.

Flying from Anchorage to Fairbanks is surprisingly expensive and it can be dangerous to drive that route in the winter; therefore, I don't usually see my family until the late spring or early summer.

And then they tend to come in back-to-back-to-back-to-back visits. 

Blythe and Dustun visited us first. (My nephew, Josh, usually comes to visit as well, but he was in Wisconsin with my dad. He was a little bit sad that he couldn't join us, especially since we went to the Salmon Bake. Twice.)

We had an awesome time with everyone. Blythe trained with us, which was great. She's been training down in Anchorage with our younger sister, Becky, who really wanted to go on the trip with us, but was unable because she couldn't find anyone to watch her kids while she was gone. She's hoping to make it next year for the Crow Pass hike.

Becky and her family came the same day that Blythe and Dustun left. They actually met on the road and stopped to have lunch together. 

Arthur was really excited to see his cousin Molly. They play together so well. I'm not sure if that's because Arthur can usually convince Molly to do what he wants (unlike his other friends who just do what they want and ignore his demands) or if it's because they don't see each other very often (since they always have good memories of their time together, there's positive rapport).

In any case, I enlisted the two of them to help me pick some rhubarb for Blythe and Becky. They eagerly obliged and were more than happy to run back and forth throwing the rhubarb leaves in the sunken field next to our house. They even helped cut those leaves off and put the stalks in plastic bags. Too bad Molly won't be around when we process potatoes!

Blessed be.

Last year my friend Amanda said she wanted to hike the Chilkoot Trail. She had just had her son in January, didn't realize she needed permits, and hadn't trained beyond our walks at the Big Dipper. Needless to say, she wasn't ready.

So, we waited. We gathered together a few other gals, made arrangements, trained, and prepared for the hike in July. It's been fun carrying 30 pound packs and having some small adventures around Fairbanks. I'd never been to Wickersham Dome before and it's a beautiful sight when you get past the mud and mosquitoes. It was so nice at the top that Loda and I took a nap. I'd love to take the family later in the summer for a family trip. I think Arthur and Balin would love running around the rocks.

We also hiked the full Angel Rocks Loop with Blythe, Dustun, and Loda. We hiked up to Angel Rocks last year with Robinson's dad, but didn't complete the full loop. After we reached the top, a freak storm began pelting us with chilly rain. The wind picked up. Arthur began screaming, which caused Balin to begin to cry, too. Loda found a small "cave" nearby and we raced in. We fed the boys some snacks to calm them down and waited for the storm to pass.

A short while later, the rain stopped, but so did Arthur's drive to finish the trail. He and Robinson turned back while the rest of us climbed higher. An hour later, we reached the parking lot where we found Arthur and Robinson running around. Arthur seemed to have forgotten the inclement weather. He had eaten the Luna Bar Loda had given him. He was fine.

If you'd like to keep up with our adventures on the Chilkoot (and other places), you can visit our blog here.

Blessed be.