Growing Family

Staying Married

Some time back, The Captain and I met a couple who were really cool, had three kids, and had been married 17 years. We were shocked because they seemed so cool! So young! We met them when our kids were practically babies. They really inspired me, that after seventeen years a marriage could still look vibrant, and engaged, even in the midst of parenting.

Fast forward to now. Like our friends, we married really young. Here we are, married 14 years with a pack of kids. We've both changed over time, as people do. Our relationship has highs and lows, exciting bits, and dry chapters. 

Deep down to my toes I am thankful, and absolutely in love with this man, even when there's nothing swoon worthy going on.

As you know, I'm an avid gardener. My husband has watched me plant garden after garden, only to walk away from my efforts as we move time and again. He has humored me in pouring not inconsequential amounts of money into pots and soil and seedlings, and has listened to hours of hopeful chatter about my tomato seeds sprouting, and my desire for a jam garden.

My partner works very hard at work and at home. He has the work ethic of three motivated people combined. On the weekend he likes nothing more than to sleep in, and have a quiet tea and toast (with Nutella and fresh raspberries) and a nap in the hammock, or to lose himself in one of the multiple books he reads simultaneously.  Yesterday he gave up his time and a grand amount of his money because he loves me well.

I have been trying to find a way to source this 16' foot agricultural panel for months. After trying unsuccessfully to hire multiple people to collect it from a distant farm supply center, I turned to my steady husband for help. He hired a truck, and drove the distance only to discover that the panel I had ordered earlier in the week wasn't there after all. He had them cut the 16' panels in half to fit in his 8' truck and hauled them home.

While he was away, I spent hours on other garden projects. I cut down some fence posts to make a small raised bed in which to plant one of the new fruit trees I'm ordering.

Today I got the panel hung. All 64 feet of it. I'll plant a variety of climbing edibles on it, and I'll even do some pumpkins supported by slings. I could have accomplished the same thing with a roll of fencing for a fraction of the cost, but I have been wanting this industrial gage panel because I love the look of it, even before anything grows on it.

I wouldn't call my husband a romantic or passionate man. As an INTJ, he shares his personality type with only about 2% of the world's population. He has an intellectual brilliance that I do not share. Yet I have capacity and strength in areas that lacks strength. Fourteen years in, I think he is absolutely amazing. At this very moment he is folding the laundry with our children while they watch a documentary about North Korea. 

Quite some time ago I went through a season where I was consistently disappointed that my husband didn't write me love letters (although he wrote great ones while we were dating), or plan elaborate sweep-me-off-my-feet dates, but over the years I have learned to recognize him loving me well, in his way. He brings me flowers for no good reason, because he knows I like that, even though they might not mean the same thing to him. On friday night he often starts our weekend by bringing a bag of delicious treats to share. As a father for our children, I could not dream of better. In matters of the garden, he opens his heart to me again and again, contributing to the thing that makes my heart sing. 

We are so very, very different, but we laugh at the same things, and notice the same obscure references and details. Ours is a life shared, and richer for the sharing. In the garden, I do the digging and dreaming, and he says "yes". In the end we sit outdoors together, eating the food I've grown, and enjoying the environment I have created, and we've both done our part, and nurtured each other in the process. For me, my garden is my own passion, but also a continual testiment to my partner's investment in who I am and what I care about. That's a pretty romantic thing, don't you think?

 

Finding You and Staying True

In our house we spend "special time" with our children. From time to time they ask "can I have a special time with you?" and that is the language we use for "I need you to listen to me and make me feel special". 

This week my eight year old Sprout was getting ready for bed when she asked "can I have a special time with you, mom?" 

"I'm becoming a completely different person" she told me with wide, sad eyes. "I am almost a completely different person than the person I was in Australia. None of my friends here like to pretend or use their imaginations."

I jumped on her bed and cuddled her close and started a story with her. We took turns telling chapters about a Rainbow girl in a rainbow kingdom where everything was amazing colors. That's the thing about my girl and I, we can flip on creative like a switch, and we're off and away. It's something we share, and something that's special between us.

Sprout's best friend in Australia was so imaginative, she lived half in a story, and half in reality. Together the two girls kept a fanciful world going, nearly all the time. Sprout, being an absolutely honest child, was incredibly hurt on a few occasions when she completely believed her best friend's stories, only to find that they weren't true! I loved her friend's imagination, and all the places they went together, in their playful dreaming.

Sprout has made friends here. She is well liked, and doesn't lack playmates. She even has some good friends that she really enjoys spending time with. There isn't, however, a friend who resonates with creativity, and imagination. Being a creative being myself, I feel my wonder slipping away as I age. Perhaps it is the gradual loss of my own dreaming that made my heart hurt for my daughter.

This space that we live in here doesn't value her imagination. Her school does not nurture her creativity. It does not resonate with her friends.

I hope she doesn't lose it. I hope I don't lose it. It is a valuable part of who we are, and something I love about myself and feel I am missing. I love seeing her lost in a world of her own creation, almost oblivious that anyone else is near.

Are you a creative person, or parenting a creative child? How do you make a space for whimsy?

Proud to be Australian

I received Australian citizenship as an adult. In my mind, pursuing a new citizenship as an adult is like the difference between being baptized as an infant, and baptized as an older individual, making a personal choice. I was born American, and I still am, but I chose to become Australian.

As the ongoing hostage crisis in Sydney is splashed around the front page of international newspapers, with words like TERROR emblazoned, Australia keeps her footing. The details of the number of hostages is not being released to the public. The gunman's demands are not being released. Multiple contacts have been made to media in effort for the gunman's demands to be broadcast to the world, but they have refused.

The police remain calm, and dedicated to bringing the hostages out safely. 

For Australia, this is not the time to spark a media frenzy. This is not a time to launch a fear campaign.

Instead, there is a movement on social media in support of Australia's Muslim population. The hashtag #illridewithyou was tweeted 22,000 times as evening fell on Sydney. To quote the story in the Sydney Morning Herald, the tweet started when one woman, Rachael Jacobs, noticed another woman on public transport removing her hijab, and encouraged her to keep it on, and that she would walk with her if she felt unsafe. That's the Australia I know and love. 

"I'll walk with you." "I'll ride with you." The world may be telling us we are a threat to each other, yet I'll walk with you.

What a stirring example of using whatever privilege we have on behalf of others. 

I'm proud to be Australian.

A Hole in the Back Door

I don't know the details, no one really does at the moment, but we are hearing that there is a hostage situation happening in Sydney right now. From what we've heard, gunmen are holding people hostage in the Lindt chocolate cafe in Martin Place. Read the BBC account here.

My husband worked in Martin Place for years, and many of our friends still do. I'm texting with my bestie to confirm that her husband is okay. The Lindt cafe is one of my girlfriends' favorite spots to take their kids for a treat in the city.

As the dynamics surrounding Ferguson seethe and boil in America, Australia is always the "grass is greener", the escape hatch, the back door exit to freedom and a better life.

Here, every day another incident of police brutality against Black males is broadcast, another report about the widest income divide between Black and white households in years, statistics about biased discipline of Black girls in schools - the darker the skin, the harsher the punishment...shaky handheld videos of police shooting unarmed men and boys in real time, pictures of undercover police officers pointing their weapons on protesters, my feed chokes and gags on story after story of the wrongs suffered here. 

In all this, Australia has seemed a constant, a safety, an assurance.

After a hard day of parenting, a hard day of life, a day when I have struggled to find my balance, a day when I have wrestled with my young son over the injustice of Michael Brown's death, and the pain of the decision not to indict the officer who killed him, a day battling with fear, I am presented with this.

The city I love, a very dear friend in lock down in his office building, and a best friend waiting anxiously for her husband.

Lord, have mercy. 

 

Patience in the Garden

Blooms are lovely, and fresh eats from the garden amazing, yet behind those moments of glory are hours and hours of hard work and patience.

Right now I'm having trouble with the patience bit.

Because we move so frequently, I've planted so many gardens, only to leave them before enjoying the real payoff that comes about three years into nurturing a garden. Right now I am walking around with my garden plan, and the product list for Urban Harvest's annual fruit tree sale, muttering "Pakistan Mulberry here or espaliered apples?" 

Year round gardening is possible here in Houston, so there are lots of things growing in my garden, but nothing looks amazing or abundant. I have to admit I've felt kind of bummed about that. This is a little post to remind myself where I started, and what I've accomplished so far in the last 4 1/2 months of being in this house. I'm just focusing on the back yard today. I'll talk about the front another time.

Here is a view of the back yard before we bought the house. There was a box hedge that you can see on the right. I cut that out with my handsaw. Along the back fence were Ligustrums that had grown into trees (as well as an Ash tree on the right). I cut most of the Ligustrums out myself and had our yard guys take out the rest. I had a tree guy remove the Ash.

Neglected back fence

 

 

Cleared back fence with bed started

Back fence today

Original side of garage

This is the side of the garage. No grass was growing, the soil is compacted, it was completely shaded, and this portion of the yard floods.

Side of garage bed built, flooding

Side of garage bed today

Side fence original

 Along this fence there is good sun, as evidenced by some grass growing.

Side fence today

So in addition to taking out the things I didn't want (which has been a slow journey), here's what I did.

I collected a van-full of concrete edgers from someone in my neighborhood. They are not my dream edges, but there was enough to build nearly all my raised beds, and FREE is my kind of price. Plus, they gave me a good workout that day.

 Next, I tore the tape off of ALL our moving boxes, and used them about 3 deep to create the bottom later of my raised beds. (Recycle, reuse, repurpose is the theme of this garden.)

Once the beds were made, and lined with cardboard, I took advantage of the construction happening on our street. I had the crew dump several piles of excavated soil from in front of my house onto my driveway, which I then deposited one wheelbarrowful at a time, into the beds. It's hard to get a sense of scale here. I probably put at least 12 hours of labor just filling the beds with this soil. Maybe more?

I moved two van loads of plants that had been hanging out at my old neighbor's, waiting for their new home.

We had a fence built that can support climbing plants.

Our developing fire circle

We had all the wood from the Ash stacked as firewood, and the tree guy cut us logs for stump seats around our fire pit, and cut everything he had in his truck already, into sections for our woodpile.

I have built three compost bins from wire fencing. The second is nearly full. I have been collecting the leaves from my yard in bags, and will let them rot over the winter to add to the beds in the spring.

Fruit Planted

• I built a raised bed alongside the opposite side of the garage that is a narrow, rather useless edge. It is my blackberry bed, a perfect spot actually, for a plant with some really intense thorns.
• The bed alongside the garage has a Pomegranate tree, a climbing rose, and strawberries
• Blueberries - There are five plants (three or four varieties?) in pots with 50% spagnum peat moss for acidity
• One fig is waiting to go in the ground
• One Meyer lemon in a pot
• One orange in a pot
• Papaya in a pot

Vegetables Planted

• Onions (red, white, and yellow)
• Beans just finishing
• Tomatoes still fruiting
• Heirloom Kale
• Several lettuces
• Carrots
• Silverbeet/Chard
• Artichoke

Herbs Planted

• Curry
• Rosemary
• Oregano (2 varieties)
• Various mints
• Lavender
• Dill
• Chives
• Rue
• Parsley

Because my soil is quite heavy clay, I topped is with some organic compost, and then planted a cover crop of red clover and daikon radish to improve the soil. In the spring I'll put the rotted leaves on. 

Because the soil is not the best, and because the plants are overcoming transplant shock, and because it's almost winter, everything is growing in millimeters rather than inches. Yesterday I sat outside feeling blue about the distance between where I want my garden to be and where I currently am. Of course there's a long way to go, and it's okay to dream forward, but I wanted to stop and remind myself of what I've already done. 

If you want more frequent peeks at what is happening in my garden, and gardens around Houston, you can like my Facebook page Sap and Green.

 

 

 

 

What is Happening in America?

If I didn't have a Black son, I don't know how engaged I would be in America's current race debate. This is my confession. This is the privilege of a white person of means.

It is because I have a vested interest in how this country treats MY child that I am engaged.

I have been raised on "stand up for the oppressed" and "lay down your life for your brother" in very real ways. As a child I watched my parents live this again and again.

I'd like to think I would stand up anyway, even if I didn't have my son. I would like to think it is in my genes.

The truth is though, these days, it seems like the world is all tragedy all the time. I receive these emails about Christians in persecuted countries who are going to be executed, and could I please sign a petition... I feel sick as I click them closed. There are so many slain in so many uprisings. So many children dying of so many preventable diseases. So many raped and maimed and displaced, and I cannot see them all or fight for them, and so I turn away.

I am supposed to be like the Good Samaritan who sees and does something and sometimes I do, but sometimes I look away because I can.

My (Black) son is nine. I have never seen him followed in a store, because I keep him near me the whole time and I talk to him more loudly than required so that people know he's with me.

My son is nine. He has never interacted with a police officer. He has no idea that there might be cases where he is viewed as suspicious. 

He runs from yard to yard with his friends from the neighborhood (also Black). They have swords and nerf guns, and marshmallow bows, and whiffle balls tied to strings. They are nine and they play war all the time because that is the business of boys.

I introduce us to every neighbor I see. I wave at the Constable as he (and she, on the opposite shift) drive past. I sit outside while my children play. I am here, and these are mine, I am saying to the neighborhood.

I am thankful for an integrated school. I am thankful for a diverse group of friends. I am thankful for friends who "get it" and are raising their voices about what is happening in our nation.

I came here to provide a list of links to things I have found helpful in these last few weeks of non-indictments. I have mostly been sharing wise things other people are saying, feeling like I don't have anything to say myself.

I guess what I do have to say is if you're bothered by what is happening in our country, you don't need to be Black, or have a Black child or relative, to have a reason to speak up. You don't have to know everything, or be well spoken. Just say SOMETHING. Please, just join the conversation and say something. Just say, "I don't think police should shoot twelve year old boys playing with toy guns."

I know we are overwhelmed with the world's tragedies. I know we don't know where to start, or how to fix this. Saying "something is going wrong here" is a start.

Here are the best things I've come across these weeks. Please read and watch them.

Tim Wise wrote a brilliant piece about white America's blindness to matters of race. It is so very, very informative. If you need a starting point, start here.

Heather Johnson McCormick, white adoptive mother to twin boys from Haiti wrote Cute Little Black Boys Grow Up to be Black Men... which is just so painful and throbbing. Please don't look away. Read it.

Video Blogger Franchesca Ramsey explains how to be a a good ally. 

There's been so much fighting on the internet. Feuds on Facebook. Thanksgiving was a flame-war for some families. We often want to block and unfriend people who are vocalizing things we disagree with. Spectra says Dear White Allies: Stop Unfriending other White People Over Ferguson.

Lastly, we probably all saw that adorable picture of the cute Black boy hugging the cop in Ferguson. I think many of us white people loved that picture. It offered a moment of relief and healing. Here are some other perspectives to consider Complicating the Narrative

Do you want to talk about this? Do you want to ask questions? I'm here.

Thanksgiving Break

Sometimes I get so busy living life that I forget to write about it, and sometimes I'm so preoccupied with the way I want to capture and write about life that I don't engage as deeply as I want to.

Last week the kids were home from school for a good long week of Thanksgiving break. I'm not a hashtagger but I'm sure I should say something like #privateschoolpaymoregoless. I've always loved spending time with my kids, but now that they are all gone at school, I love that time with them more. This season is more enjoyable for a few reasons. First of all, they are getting more and more fun to hang out with. The ratio of I need you to do every single thing for me to I might reward you with "thanks" or a hug is evening out. They can pretty much do most things for themselves (I still drive the car most of the time), and are becoming more and more aware of others' feelings and needs (mine). Also, with them at school, I am getting the recharge of quiet, solitude, and "me time" that most mothers of young children forgo for several years. 

Sometimes I realize that I haven't made noise or spoken out loud from when they leave for school until I pick them up in the afternoon. For an organization loving introvert like me, having solitude to organize my linen cupboard and do something creative, and get dirty in my garden is just so wonderful.

Well, the week of home holiday was great and I'm going to bullet point the memorable things we did, because otherwise, I won't remember them next week.

-Playdate with new friends from church. No pictures to prove it but there was frog dissection, and bridge building with branches in a pond. As a side note, I have always avoided friendships with church leaders, and this family is one of the pastoral families at our church. As a kid, I saw the heavy demands on my parents' time as pastors, and I guess I want to steer clear of ever being that person who takes up pastors time...in this case Small Sun and the pastor's son are friends, and they asked us to hang out...so we did, and it was nice. It turns out we have about a zillion things in common.

-Playdate with friends at Houston Arboretum. 

The Arboretum has such a great indoors learning area for children. Right now there are leaf rubbing supplies, and some monarch butterflies in all stages of the life cycle, in addition to the other cool stuff they have like animal skulls with charts to id them, and animal pelts from animals that actually live in the Arboretum area.

-Time in the Garden

Small Sun started harvesting cabbage leaves to make pansy wraps with shiso or mint. Also, I had a tree removed to let me light in the back. The tree crew cut stumps for seats for our fire circle, and the kids immediately set up a painting area there while we watched the tree work.

-Thanksgiving

We stayed in Houston this year, and celebrated with some friends from church. We divied up the menu and each prepped half. Isn't is amazing how you can prepare for days, and cook for endless hours, and then the food gets devoured in moments? I don't even care. It was SO GOOD.

The kids playing "Chest" while the food was being prepped.

Sprout made the cider. It was delicious hot, and we had it again, chilled, the next day.

Our menu included a massive turkey (so thankful my girlfriend took that on, as it is a bit beyond my vegetarian meat cooking repertoire), Parker House rolls, Butternut Squash with tarragon and rice vinegar, Parsnips with lemon pepper oil, Cranberry sauce, Mashed Potatoes, Farmer's Market goat cheese with cranberry and orange, and a Spinach salad with home candied pecans, amongst other delicious goodies.

After our feast we took an amble along the bayou with our friends.

After our walk we came back for dessert: apple pie, pumpkin roll, and fresh whipped cream.

- Playdate at Herman Park

We met up with friends from last year's school class. Herman Park in the city has a variety of playgrounds, a Japanese garden, a lake with paddle boats, and a train that circles the park. I didn't take many pictures, but we had a great time.

- Buffalo Bayou Walk, Downtown Houston

- Rice University Observatory

A new friend of ours works in Astronomy (or Astrophysics?) at Rice University. He invited us to an open house at the observatory.

The kids loved seeing Rice University campus at night. Other than Small Sun's field trip last year, this is the first time the kids have been on a college campus. It was really special to walk there with them, and talk about their hopes and dreams and what they want to do when they grow up. 

From the observatory we saw the moon. It was SO COOL! We also saw a group of stars called "Double Double" and the Andromeda Galaxy.

- Getting the Tree and Christmas Decorations Begin

It was a great break. We all got the rest and recharge we needed. A break from homework, a break from schedules, a break from packing lunches, and hours upon hours of fresh air and exercise and time with friends.