Snuggily Two's

I don't know much about the Terrible Two's, but I know a ton about the Snuggily Two's. Papa and I are drinking in as much of this as possible while it lasts. We both know it won't be long until our hugs and kisses will embarrass the poor boy. Until then....snuggle on!

I have to admit, these pictures are from earlier in October. I've been out of the loop a bit with my blog working like a mad woman on a huge fundraising event in NYC for the Rodale Institute (the non-profit for which I slave). The event was titled "Ripe for Revolution," but I'm feeling overripe these days. Squishy, soggy and covered in fruit flies! It is only the smile of a certain little bear that makes my heart soar and my supermama powers get all zingy and electrified. Really...how could anyone resist....

Here he is as "Incredi-Boy" in the park.

I'm afraid my lovely little son is addicted to "MOVIES!" (in caps to represent how loudly he requests one). With his personality and charisma, I wouldn't be surprised if he ended up as a movie star himself....or a producer. Who knows. Until then, he's going to have to deal with the TV(and movie)-time limits the mama and the papa (well, mostly the mama) impose. Although, it really is hard to resist those big blue eyes.

Two today

Happy Birthday my darling little bear.....

Putting up

I've been meaning to get this particular entry up for weeks now. We've picked, preserved, stewed, frozen and pickled some more over the last month. We're very far from ever putting up enough to tide us over until spring, but there is something comforting about having so much garden goodness glistening in jars and bags. There is something about the ritual that brings the summer to a sweet close and welcomes the fall in all it's warm (inside) and spicy crispness (outside).

Dad Evan's dill pickle recipe.

Elderberry currant apple preserves.
(I've missed the annual jelly-making activities at my mother's house the last few years. This year, she brought the whole process to mine. Berries picked by my father, juiced by my mother, and preserved by me.)

Tomatoes, garlic, leeks, basil, rosemary, and oregano
just waiting to be turned into sauce and jarred up.

This truly is my favorite time of year. The month of our marriage...the month of our first born. Today, in fact, is our anniversary and next week is the litte bear's second birthday. So much seems to begin in October, I can't help but celebrate. Autumn blessings to you all!

Treasure

So Rowan thinks he's a pirate. I'm not sure where the obsession originated, but we've managed to unintentionally encourage it. Okay, so it's been somewhat intentional. It's just incredibly adorable to hear him say, "Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of juice!" Or tell the old ladies in the gift shop down the shore to "Walk the plank!"

As a result, he's been searching high and low for "pirate booty" (his exact words--where does he get this stuff?). You never know what might be considered treasure these days. Some of his favorites include an egg-like stone, a collection of snail shells and a bluejay feather. The bluejay feather was his first gift from the sky. Found on a quiet walk through the woods with mama a few weeks ago. Papa has a talent for attracting feather gifts as well, so I'm not surprised my eagle-eyed son has begun to express the same.

I also suspect one of the new earings my mother gave me may have been pirated, but I have yet to discover where it's been buried.

Seaside, book II

Despite Rowan's beach bum temperament, Mama's delicate skin and aversion to sunburn and sweat meant many hours spent enjoying each other's company away from the sand and sea. In fact, we all found a lovely bit of solace tucked under the dappled shade and hidden in the damp mossy crevises of Brookgreen Gardens.

When what should we hear as we come out from under a canopy of old oaks but Rowan's excited voice saying, "Look. Giant ba-ba's!"

And, of course, there were rides. Papa might be highly allergic to the teacups, but they were by-far Rowan's favorites.

Seaside, book I

Sunset Beach, NC. August 16-25, 2008: We were invited to spend a week with friends at the beach this summer. Three families, three kids (1-3) and one in the oven. We rented a house half a block from the beach on a quiet island just off the coast. It was lovely!

I say our house was only half a block from the beach, but I neglect to mention the boardwalk that is nearly three blocks long from the beach access to the actual beach. I still hold that this gorgeous path among the dunes doesn't count due entirely to the enjoyment we all had padding back and forth on it's well-worn wood.

A lesson in ocean etiquette from mamma. That hat didn't stay on long. In fact, within the first 15 minutes in the water Rowan was laying down and putting his head under. Turns out he's a natural beach bum!

Low tide revealed a small sand bar just a few yards out. The waves tumbled on the rise and created a calm wading pool just perfect for Rowan and Mama to play.

Like father, like son...they have the exact same stride!

Bedside

There is a white wraught iron, glass-topped table on my side of the bed. It's old, with sharp corners and glass chipped from years on my parent's back porch. It used to sit in our living room until the little bear found his way into this world. As heavy things and sharp things, things too big and things too small all made their way into the attic, I couldn't bear to see this one item stored away. Here are some fragments that I currently keep on my bedside table...

The scent of cinnamon, strong and heady, from a lovely cinnamon wood canister. About $17.68. "Wonder Lands" by Bryna Untemeyer. "Jesus and the Lost Goddess" by Timothy Freke, Peter Gandy. "In Defense of Food" by Michael Pollan. "Twilight" by Stephanie Meyer. One diaper, size four. Sesame Street towel from 1978. Small basket with four jars of scented oils (orange, pine, lavendar, fresh linen).

Yes...I promise pictures very, very soon.