Judah Turns Eight

This beautiful young man is our middle child. 

When you have two bright and creative older brothers ahead of you and two younger siblings who gather up all the attention they need from everyone around you, you might become a little weary, always placed in the middle of things. Yet, Judah seems to know how to fit into the ranks with his older brothers when it comes to manners and chores and the important things, like remembering when your homework is due. In the same breath, he is able to pull himself under covers with his younger brother and sister, turn on a flashlight, and read stories to them into the night. I've watch their little heads bounce around the covers, and I've listened to the laughter and felt the contentment in my heart, knowing that the little two admire him so much.

Judah, he sees as far as the stars and hears the sound of rain fall. His bright brown eyes and dream-like laughter, his colorful mind, his comfort with each day, makes him a jewel among the tribe. 

I hope that every day is a celebration for him, but today is a day for gifts and love and merry play, for Judah turns eight, and I couldn't imagine my days without his cheerful ways. 

Happy birthday

Mahatma Judah!

Handmade Things

When there is a new baby in the house, handmade things are an ongoing project for me. Now that the littlest, and the last of the brew, is three years old, I have a bit of empty space to fill with handmade love for friends. Here is collection of crafts that I've made in the past few months. 

 For Alli, a pretty young lady, who celebrated her tenth year of life recently. 

 A fall lantern for my fabulous author friend, Kim Culbertson; love the way it illuminates her space.

 Light for our own nature table during the Hallow season.

 And, a fairy flag for Iris, one of our dearest little friends. 

A few words, with a little scent of magic.

Now that Winter Solstice is peering around the corner, I will spend a few days busily crafting stars. Our winter owl hopes to have a silver and white, star-studded alter this year, which means that I must get started on sprinkling glitter and snow around here. 

★

Things That I Love

The things that I love always include some sort of shimmer:

the peak of each season

the sound of a hollow planet, as snow begins to fall

crisp, sharp, horrid, delicate words

a swarm of bees

spring rain, bare feet, a lengthy kiss

capering under a star-studded sky

lavender, hops, bitter tea

a swirling fire in the middle of the woods

and the moon, 
I love most

For some reason today, I felt it was necessary to make a list.

Happy Ten Years, Sunbeam!

Aaron and I sat around last night, talking about how special Sahaj is, and I said to my husband, he's the nicest person I've ever met in this world. And truly, Sahaj is. I don't know anything else more real. 

In our little pack of wolves, he is always the first to stand up and help. I secretly wish I knew what it felt like to have him as an older brother. 

Our only summer baby, he's a ball of delight in every season.

 As you may know already, I have a thing about writing down statements that my kids make. I tuck scraps of paper smeared with their sense and spirit into notebooks. Here is some insite I scribbled earlier this year:

"You can turn something dark into something bright, just add stars." 

-Sahaj

His words are jewels,

just like his eyes. 

This little boy, who is growing into such a handsome, devoted young man, holds my heart(and Haile's, too). 

We've spent the majority of this lazy summer reading, and I've just finished a book which was highly recommended to me by Sahaj, Odd and the Frost Giants. He tells me that he enjoyed most, the part where the rainbow was formed out of ice, and then they fell into Asgard. 

He's just a good kid. I hope to spend so many more days with him, trading books, reading about supernovas, coloring the world, and seeing the trail of magic that is left behind after his laughter. 

A Seething Sea

She set out with her morning song
in the waning hour of the moon
foot soles bare, above the salt water sea
her memories held loose, trailing beyond her dreams

She offers her silence
into the ring:
the shimmering part of her mind
rich, golden flare,
killing the years of her life
thick with gray hope,
where she lost her red heart

The pieces of sky
have fallen a long way now
She gathers them, delicately
inhaling the earliest mist of morning
swallowing each sliver, inhabiting this place

In the distance, she sees
the glimmer of her heart,
hoping to clear this aerial breeze
yet, the sea is never forgiving
its belly, plump and full
waiting for the moon to become ripe again,
the sea - ready to birth another eternity,
swallows her clean

On Love and Friendship

Love lives without any false illusion. It sees the value of friendship,
expects no reward. It is conscious of fault and failure and is accepting
of all consequences.

Blind and abandoned, time passes on, memories loosen, life somehow
darkens, yet love gathers mass, holds itself together; irrepressible,
sustaining. Love is a duty, the essence of every human spirit.

Milk and Honey

I have killed myself, sweetly
bare around the throat
stained with dried cherry

Her long body, eaten thin
mouthful of plump berries
licking the corners of a candied moon
velvet moist, peeling apart a tender crust

When he is with me, delicate white
sour sweet, pouring
over a blood clot night

Silk cotton hour casts a shadow of empty morning
I foam to the top of the cup
Our moment full of sugar washes to the shore
where he once served me, warm milk and honey


*Written for the Sunday Mini-Challenge at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads,
where Grace is hosting a day in the kitchen.

Sharlet, Sometimes I Dream

The light outside 

of this dream

begins to dim

a sudden, sullen

deep, dark pain

The truth is born

between snow falling, 

soft white petals, and you

The liquid in your heart

washes away with the rain

And I know that this dream

is true, in the moment

where I find my breath and hear

the sound of swarming bees,

inside this dream

I laugh and lose my pace

the wind is letting go,

far above the breeze

as the chariot begins to push

towards the sea

In Love

I am in love

and have discovered it

to be a taste:

the ripening fruit of a locust tree

irresistible,

only a sacrament of vows

can contain

On the wing of enchantment

wrong and right, love is

"the smoke made from the fumes

of sighs", cultivating

full, constant light

foolish and wise, love

begets itself

Of the tree, love is

a star, dropping out of the thickness of time

whispering around the moon

while the world lays warm

the sun will never be

as happy as me

here, where I lay

a jewel in my hand

I am in love

At Eleven

Siddhartha at camp last year

I believe it is a sort of sensation, to reach the second decade of continuance. A tenth of life behind and an endless range of possibilities ahead. At the surface, the air is still thin, clear and fair. The days are fresh water, played out in the ease of childish pleasure. Internally, the colors are brighter, the bloom is heavy, and the air is thick as fruit begin to ripen. 

Eleven is a crossing, a cloverleaf; the bridge to a larger path. Our eldest son has reached this pivotal mark. Where his demands are a bit grander. His sense of understanding, based on a more worldly view. His expectations higher as his capabilities grow. Responsibility and frustration become evident with the natural sense of development. Yet, he still carries with him a box of youthful treasure: an innocent wonderment, the earliest light of a sunrise, and the delight in daily adventures. He is still a kid. A treat to say that he is my kid.

A summer day at the pond, which was spent climbing boulders

Happy birthday, my brilliant son!