Boreal Witch

Fairbanks summers are so beautiful. Eighty degree temperatures, 22 hour days, and sun almost makes up for our chilly winters. Even though my family lives in Anchorage (just a 6 hour drive) it seems a shame to leave Fairbanks to visit a more temperate (albeit more civilized) location.

The kids and I flew down to Anchorage for my dad's birthday and stayed for a week. We got to see friends and family. We took portraits and played at parks. Arthur bossed his cousin Molly around and she didn't seem to mind a bit. Nana held Balin and I nearly finished all the blocks for a wedding quilt I've been working on (now to sew them together - I almost have two of the four quilts I wanted to complete this year finished!). My dad even convinced me to take on a portion of his stamp business. My friend Naomi gave me a fabulous new haircut and her in-laws lent us a few Terry Pratchett books.

Balin even learned a few new tricks, his favorite being finding his feet. This kid now spends almost every waking moment clutching something: his hands, feet, someone else's hands, or a toy. It's amazing how smitten people get with a baby around. He smiles and everyone coos. My father is absolutely convinced he's my grandmother reborn.

It was wonderful to be able to spend so much time with everyone. Next year we'll stay a while longer. Even though next summer is proving to be busier than I anticipate, I'd like to take the kids to Anchorage for a couple weeks, at least. Arthur continuously asks when we're going back to Anchorage. He loved all the attention from Nana and his aunties and loved playing with his cousins. It was nice being able to fly one way because the drive back was brutal with a 3 month old. Unlike his brother who would have loved having a pacifier fused to his mouth, Balin hates it and will spit it out as soon as it goes in. We did learn, however, that Balin will fall asleep in the car when he's dead tired from crying IF AND ONLY IF he is sung to. I wonder if someday he will be very musical like his Oldma and Daddy.

Guess what was awaited us when we got home? They were quickly peeled and devoured.

Blessed be.

Balin laughed today - all on his own, without me tickling him. His laughter made Arthur laugh, which made me laugh. He's got a magical laugh, very contagious.

Poor Robinson missed it. I encouraged Balin to laugh for him, but...nothing. Soon this kid will be able to tell jokes. My, how time flies.

Blessed be.

My parents have always had a lot of stuff. I'm not sure if this is because my parents both grew up on farms with their parents (Depression survivors) or because of our time in Barrow. Maybe it's a bit of both. Whatever the reason, stuff just seems to gravitate to my parents, which they happily pile in their house. Their house is so full of stuff that no one can enter the garage without carrying a satellite phone, a week's supply of food, and the jaws of life. That also applies for most of the other rooms in the house. My sisters still have stuff there. I might, in fact, still have some of my stuff there, but if I do, it's been swallowed by all the other stuff and will never be found. Since my marriage to Robinson, I've done a decent job of getting my stuff out of there.

Whenever I stay with my parents I can't help but look through some of Their Stuff. It's like a bad automobile accident. I feel compelled to gawk at Their Stuff.

Any attempt to remove Their Stuff is met with resistance. A typical conversation about Their Stuff usually goes like this:

Me: "Why, Mom? Why do you have all these stuffed animals?"

Mom: "Because you girls used to play with them. Incidentally, I found some of your old school work from Barrow. Do you want it?"

Me: "No, I don't want it. Chuck it. There's two old computer monitors here, do you really need two of them?"

Mom: "Don't touch those, those are your dad's. He might need them if his other monitor breaks."

Me: "Are you planning on his current monitor breaking?"

Mom: "Well, no, but we might need them someday. Are you sure you don't want that school work?"

By far, my sister Blythe has the most stuff at my parent's house, but any attempt to get rid of her stuff is also met with resistance. Surprisingly, not from Blythe. Part of the problem lies in that it's also Josh's stuff - mostly toys that he used to play with when he was two - and Mom can't seem to let go of any childhood object.

Their Stuff had gotten so wide spread that during my trip to Anchorage I spent a good part of the day rearranging half of the downstairs family room. Since my one-year-old niece Ella kept playing with some very fragile glass and ceramic objects, I was terrified she'd break something and a) get hurt, b) suffer the wrath of Mom, or c) get squished by the wobbling plastic shelving that these artifacts were housed on. I moved them with the help of my youngest sister Becky. I also moved the TV and put all the cords behind it, again because of safety.

This way not in the least bit okay with Mom who nearly had a fit when she came downstairs. I can't blame her because I wouldn't want someone to come to my house and rearrange all of my stuff either, but I felt pretty justified. The room looked so much better.

In fact, my anti-clutter brigade is slowly growing. Dad, Blythe, and Josh have all been trying to get rid of some of their excess junk out of my parent's house. Blythe's hoping that the next time we come down to visit, she'll have most of her stuff out of there. Becky's hopping aboard, too. She cleaned out Molly and Ella's closet.

I'm far from perfect and my home is far from clutter-free. Still, I pride myself in being able to keep the clutter at bay or at least hide one pile from another.

Because, you know, clutter is like bunnies.

Blessed be.

When spring came, Robinson and I chose several tasks to complete this summer. One of them was the same on both lists: build a better garden.

We've had our garden boxes ever since we moved into the house. They've slowly expanded from one to three to five, with two smaller ones behind the rhubarb which have yet to take shape. We've always had mixed results. In some years we've had a pretty decent garden (as long as the moose didn't eat everything) and other years our vegetables were pretty sparse.

This year, our garden is lush. LUSH. We've already harvested some radishes and we'll be eating some of our kohlrabi in a few weeks. Our squash has flower buds and the carrots and turnips are looking excellent. Even the rhubarb (which we never, ever do anything to) is beautiful.

The secret? Simple greenhouses made of pvc pipe and plastic, fertilizer, and lots of water. Lots of water. More water than we originally thought. Happily, some of the junk the previous owners left behind has proven extremely useful - in the form of a 300 gallon water tank. A couple years ago, Robinson set up a water collection system on the garage that rivaled his attempts of mudroom draft patrol. Since then, he's added gutters and a 30 gallon barrel to the water system.

Next year I hope to start my seeds even earlier. I also hope to grow some peppers and tomatoes. And flowers. Lots of flowers. Maybe I'll even get around to making that mini greenhouse on the porch I keep dreaming about. Something that can easily be moved into the mudroom during the winter months.

Blessed be and happy gardening!

Every year I say that I'll have a big celebration for Summer Solstice and I never do. A part of me says, "Hell, I'm busy raising 2 kids!" and another part of me says, "What a horrible Wiccan you are."

Happy Solstice, everyone.

Blessed be.

Rosy cheeked
Warm faced
Summer's zenith
Fading slowly
Into Autumn's horizon

Balin, my darling baby boy, will be 3 months old next week. I almost feel I must make some banana cupcakes or ladyfingers to celebrate.

We made a damn adorable baby. He's quite observant of Arthur and watches him play. Someday he'll make a great tag-a-long. He smiles when I sing to him even though I'm tone deaf and pitch deficient. He loves finger games. He's in no happier place than a lap watching the action. He's taken to grabbing his penis when he's being changed. (When I asked Arthur if he taught Balin to do that, a mischievous smile appeared on his face and he said, "yes.")

It's a wonderful feeling knowing that Balin is thriving because the last couple of weeks have been particularly stressful. I'm tired, so very tired of not getting a good night's sleep. I crave a full 6 hours straight - even 4 hours would be heaven! - and my bed back to the original trinity: myself, Robinson, and the cat, with Balin nestled peacefully in his own bed.

As I bounced Balin for the umpteenth time today, I found myself muttering, "Patience, patience, patience..."

Oh Goddess are babies exhausting. I don't know how some people have such large families. I struggle with my two youngsters daily. Of course, both are under 5.

I need a nanny. Or a grandma who lives closer.

Blessed be.

A few weeks ago, our family went to GVEA to get one of their free red chokecherries, figuring we could use it for the placenta burial and tree planting ceremony. We put it in a bucket of water next to the front porch. There it sat for about two weeks. Poor thing. Good thing we remembered to give it water. Once it started budding, it was time to plant it and since my family was in town this weekend, it seemed like a good time.

Robinson took the placenta out of the freezer last night. My dad spotted it on the counter this morning and thought it was liver. I'm glad he didn't fry it up with some onions. (Of course, it wouldn't have been possible anyway - we were out of onions.)

The ceremony was small: just my family and a friend and her two kids. Balin woke up from a nap right before we began and drooled through the whole thing. He seemed to know something special was going on. Even the rain let up for 10 minutes so that we could complete the ceremony and get the tree planted.

Arthur helped with the burial by throwing some dirt and water into the hole containing the tree. After his small part he and his friend Jade ran off to play.

Once the tree was planted, it started to rain again. We ate a late dinner and talked while the kids played. It's beautiful, having traditions such as these.

Blessed be.