Snow Dream comments: 164

Though a massive winter storm is pounding the South and Northeast as I write, the snow that enchanted me here in town last week is completely gone. All gone. As if it were a dream. The temperature was so warm today it felt like spring. Everything's muddy, and green, and gray, and wet, and squelching again. I'm wishing good luck, safe days, and patience to everyone out east; the videos of the storm that I've seen on the news today are really astonishing. I hope you can stay inside and stay warm and safe.

I spent pretty much every free moment I had this past week finishing The Goldfinch and

 

! ! ! S P O I L E R    A L E R T ! ! !

Don't read below this if you haven't read The Goldfinch and plan to!!!

 

oh man, I was soooo disappointed in the ending. I almost screamed. I was putting up with my own confusion once Horst, and Sascha, and Ulrika, and Gyuri, and Martin, and Viktor/Cherry showed up in the story, and going along with things, more or less trusting that the end would be worthy of this huge, looooooong story. But his inability to write the four letters in the hotel room was just a complete cop-out. That, to me, was the worst moment. He writes two of them and then pretty much says, "Aw dang, these aren't as good as I wanted them to be — forget it." I went from being in almost total sympathy with him, through everything, to feeling so irritated and disappointed that he wasn't going to be able to get himself together — or actually, it felt to me that the author wasn't going to be able to pull the character together, because I really think it is actually inconsistent with his character that he blows it there. For him not to be able to be honest at the apex of his crisis, when there was nothing left to lose — I actually almost put the book down. That was such a disappointing moment, for me. Then, at the absolute height of the tension, to instead just have Boris show up and say, "Oh hey, here's your passport, don't worry, it's all good, the painting's safe now, oh and actually here's a bunch of money, OH and you're a hero!!!" WHAT?!? Seriously? It was such an "and then I woke up" ending. No, it was an "and then I woke up AND found out I'd won the lottery overnight!!!" ending. MAD!!!

And to still be engaged to Kitsey, a year later? No way. :(

Maybe I'm wrong that these things are inconsistent with his character. And maybe the story is, at the end, about someone who, I hate to say this, utterly fails. Because I thought it was a fail.

Did anyone else think that?

I write of my disappointment because I truly LOVED reading this book. I have read few books in my life so fast or so furiously. I talked about it to almost everyone I saw (and hardly any of who were actually reading the book). There was so much about it that I loved and admired. But the ending left me quite cold. . . . I felt like the book deserved better, somehow.

Now to find another book. . . . Hrmmmmm.

Snow Birds comments: 129

Super duper completely wonderful. Two whole days of snowing, snowing, snowing, and possibly more on the way. Apparently snow is like a cat: Threaten it with your complete disinterest and the next thing you know it's all over you. Oh joy, joy. I love it so!!! All delight. Before it started, we were already back from the grocery store, making blueberry muffins and planning pork chops, creamed spinach, sweet potatoes, and, for lunch, my childhood snow-day favorite, Lipton chicken-noodle soup, the kind in the little package with the dessicated pieces of chicken and powdered broth. Add more noodles and a pat of butter and it's right there: the blizzard of '79.

All afternoon on the first day Mimi and I watched it blow in. Light at first, the snow fell harder and faster through the afternoon, blowing sideways for hours, whipping pots off the front porch and filling the sky. The birds crowded our feeder, and in the house we could hear them singing with nervous excitement. We snuggled under quilts and watched the local news, its reporters stationed at all of the highest points in the metro area, on the worst roads, at the scene of cars rolling into ditches and people "WALKING in FOREST PARK!!!" as one reporter incredulously exclaimed. I giggled with envy — those luckies! When I opened the back door to let the puppers out (worried, worried — what was this??? — she tried to dive back into the kitchen) I could feel that cold, clean, icy air, unlike any other air, and took a deep breath. Yes, that's it.

Yesterday the wind had stopped but the snow remained. It could not have been more beautiful, and didn't even feel that cold. Andy was at work, up on the hill, texting us bird's-eye photos of the city. People cross-country skied past the window, right down the middle of our street. Neighbors came out and started shoveling (most, including us, with garden shovels, hilariously — that's what we have here). Cabin-fevered, Amelia and I bundled and braved the blanketed streets (Yaktrax, you are the best!). It was glorious. Pristine and white. Quiet as I've ever heard it (almost everyone in the city who was able to [not nurses, alas] stayed home from work and school, and there was no one on the road). It was like walking in the forest, but with houses. Everyone in the neighborhood was gathered at the park, pulling little kids in sleds, throwing balls for bounding dogs, skiing across the baseball field. We clustered at the little sledding hill and watched for a while, then came home for lunch, cold and flushed. That afternoon it snowed again, as much as on the first day. I held my breath — keep going!

This morning — oh my stars, it snows again. Andy is home. I'm still in my nightgown. Amelia is playing with her yellow boots on the floor, wearing them on her hands. Snow fills the air, so white I almost can't see them: Andy in an Irish sweater, shoveling the neighbor's stairs; Clover's fur dusted so white she disappears. Here's another neighbor, come to help. And another. Bright hats against the white. The sound of metal scraping the sidewalk, laughter. It's falling faster than they can shovel. So beautiful. I'm going up to get dressed.

Some Weeks comments: 152

Aw, it was one of those weeks. The kind where five out of seven days of it we were fighting with the furnace, trying to make it work. The repair dude was here at least five times. A different repair dude is coming this morning, after the first one basically shrugged. And this is the third time this winter the thing has gone on the fritz. Boo hiss. It's supposed to be cold this weekend. Yippee! And Yikes! I prefer my freezing cold tempered by lots of heat coming through the registers, so, er, we'll see. This is what I get for doing my Snow Dance all over the house. Winter Olympics start Thursday, so that may be a multi-sensory experience. Cold-o-vision. Some weeks are like this, nothing but phone calls to repair dudes talking about combustion and nozzles, and waiting, in layers of wool. It has seemed to take up every minute.

Nevertheless, signs of spring continue to tempt me into confusion. I ordered a raincoat and yellow boots for Amelia. After five hours yesterday, the repair dude left, and we sprung out the front door and pranced down the street, eager for fresh air. We walked and walked and walked. Went to the coffee shop and read for a bit. She sat on my lap and watched everyone and everything. She talks constantly now, in Amelia-language, chirps and squeals and mumbles and shrieks with the occasional cheer: "Dad-DEE! Dad-DEE! Dad-DEE!" Like he's trying to win a pie-eating contest. Her first "sentence": "Hi Daddy!!!!!" said so brightly, and in a voice so loud and clear Andy and I both almost fell off the bed laughing with pure wonder and delight. Joyful mornings all together, rolling around in the warm piles of pillows and blankets and flocks of stuffed animals, every one named, every one kissed good morning. "Hi!!!"

I've been working a lot, and it's slow going. I'm learning to do it that way, but it's not my natural way. My natural way is, apparently, to careen toward the finish line like a tölting Icelandic horse (here's your visual). Right? Lordy. At night, I decided that in order to retain my slender grasp, I would only do personal projects. So I've been embroidering the village and farm piece. It's from the early '60s, I think. It's not particularly relaxing, actually. You have to page through at least four different double-sided pages to try to figure out which colors and what stitches for which part. It's do-able, obviously, but the degree of difficulty is a little higher than I should probably have chosen. My tolerance is low. Like, garter-stitch-scarf low. That would be like a 2 on the scale. Paper-piecing hexagons would be, like, a 5. This crewelwork is probably a 8. Knitting lace would of course, for me, be a 10. Even smocking would be about a 7. A 1 would be sitting unmoving with any kind of needle in your hand while watching The Hills. It's like a pain scale of evening crafting after days (that start at 5 a.m.) with a one-year-old. You probably have one. (The scale I mean; possibly, the toddler, too, or did once, so you know.)

Anyway, every night I try to do one little part of the whole scene. I can't deny that it's quite thrilling to watch each little color make it come to life. What is it about little scenes that charm so much? I read to Amelia every day, and some of the books are just amazing in the depth of their illustrations. Brambly Hedge. Tasha T. Jan Brett is like that. Mimi's sort of a speed-reader at this point — her goal is to turn the pages of the board book as quickly as possible. I read out loud like an auctioneer: Here's a little baby onetwothree standsinhiscribwhatdoesheseeee? Quick, before she turns the page. If there's a character that she normally waves to or kisses as she goes through, she does it double-time, until she gets to the end — boom, done, next!!! I stare at the pages after she's done, trying to see every little thing. I love this book. Like looking into a rhyming sugar egg.

I wish I could point you to a pattern for Amelia's sweater but it's an old Bernat (6043-87), out of print. I think I found it on eBay or somewhere like that. You could try. I will say that that yarn (Fresco) is delicious. I think, out of all the things I've made for her, this is the softest and prettiest thing. Wool/alpaca/angora, with a delicate halo. Highly recommended.

Those pink flowers? On a tree. Anyone know? Viburnum! Bodnantense 'Dawn'. Thank you, Jennifer (and everyone!)

***Yes, the crewelwork is a kit available here; sold out, but it looks like they have more coming.

Little Loves of Winter comments: 96

"Hoosick Falls, N.Y., in Winter." 1944. By Grandma Moses.

Sunday morning waffles :: Blooming bulbs and my ever-blooming lovely girl :: Long walks :: Gray skies and branches (oh how I love them) :: Can you spot the squirrel? :: I stitch and stitch and draw and knit, and fell asleep with knitting needles in my hands :: Early nights, early mornings :: She's on the move, and I can only get an unblurry photo when she's sleeping/strapped in somewhere :: I've lost my cooking mojo completely :( :: Reading Extraordinary Uses for Ordinary Things: 2,317 Ways to Save Money and Time (a birthday gift from my sissy; I've been wanting a book like this forever!) :: Dreaming of springtime meadows, and spring in general, and a wildflower garden in the raised beds instead of vegetables this year :: I started crocheting a lampshade :: Oh, most darling dearest sleepy duo :: My Grandma Moses book came and I am seriously in love love love love. I want to read everything about her now. I can't stop looking at the paintings.

Morning, Afternoon, Night comments: 125

At some point I do just sort of give up on snow.  The "fine, be that way" moment. The FBTW moment happened sometime yesterday afternoon. On our walk to the bakery, there were bulbs already pushing up through the soil outside. I brought home yellow daffodils from the market. The pale sun filtered through the dirt-spattered windows. I tossed the rest of the stray Christmas decorations (mostly those related to snowflakes) in a box. And I could see spring, which in our yard really does start to happen in February, just beyond the blurry margins of dead leaves, winter mud, and the brown and sort of weird, soupy green that the days have been, here in Oregon, in the winter. In seventeen years here, it's been the driest, sunniest winter I can remember. And, I will admit, I have found things to love about that. Because at least there are Alaska shows. I loved Esther's comment: "I think I can explain the Alaska obsession. You have Starved-for-Snow-itis. It's kind of like cabin fever, only in reverse." Oh yes, yes. Cabin fever in reverse! HA!

So, we have a Roomba. I asked for it for my birthday. I guess I'm old now. It's pretty awesome. It's like a reverse-shedding pet that doesn't really respond when you cheer it on. "Come on, Roomba! You can do it!" as it tries dumbly to find its way out from under the small side table. He whirrs and spins back and forth, banging into stuff around the room. He sends up a little victory song when he finds his way back to his dock, and so do we: "Good boy, Roomba!" Clapping. When emptied, he is filled, and I mean FILLED, with dirt (dog hair). And he has been filled pretty much every single subsequent time he's finished a room. And our carpets and floors are regularly vacuumed with the big vacuum. And dry-mopped with the pants of a toddler. The first time he was emptied I was astonished and horrified. Now he runs, almost all the time, around the house all day. He's very loud. He doesn't do stairs. No one is afraid of him anymore (both puppers and the nipper cried the first time he was let loose). His industrious motor is white noise in the background of our day.

I wish I had counted how many clementines were eaten here this winter. I save the peels and run them through the garbage disposal, which I read helps keep it clean. I think the clementine season is almost over. Amelia, if she knew that, would be very sad. I've never seen anyone eat tiny oranges so quickly. I cut them into small pieces and she literally picks them up as fast as I can cut them. I've eaten my share, as well. Have we gone through five or six crates, just the two of us? No scurvy here. That's nice. She's showing me, above, how she puts food "in her mouth" instead of throwing it on the floor, for the dog. Ahem.

Winter Olympics coming. Excited. I have my project picked out this time — the crewel embroidery that always reminds me of the view from Crown Point that I got several years ago that I've not started. I got something new for over the myrtlewood. It's a Grandma Moses reproduction (obviously) of a painting called "A Beautiful World." The quality isn't that great, because it's enlarged so much, I assume, but from afar I like it. I started getting into these primitive landscapes last year. I have another one over my dresser by Edward Hicks called "David Leedom Farm." I think I might get a book about them. I've always loved those aerial view landscapes of villages and farms and little buildings and bridges and rivers and trees. 

Go Polina Edmunds!!! I watched her at Nationals on TV last weekend and she was just completely enchanting.

My word. The sun is shining again. This is very confusing. !!!

Are you reading The Goldfinch? I can't put it down. Don't tell me what happens. I have an idea but I don't even want to talk about it.

comments: 112

Happy New Year to you, and thank you so much for all of your kind Christmas wishes! Oh, it's been so lovely and slow here. Slow like only the week between Christmas and New Year's ever is. It's the only one like this in the whole year. How I long for a snowstorm to keep it going, keep the glacier-pace of these quiet, messy, wonderfully slow days going! Alas, it's already January 2. And we have only moss on logs and gray skies for our winter so far. No snow in sight; we might have to go and find some.

Merrymaking comments: 154

In the mornings, I listen to her waking up. She hums and talks to herself in her baby language. Da-dee-dee. DA-dee-dee. Outside it's still black and cold. The lights from the baby monitor, the alarm clock glow in the dark. I listen to her: Hmm-hmm-hmm, hmm-hmm-hmm. The first six notes of "Jingle Bells," over and over. I hum the rest to myself, smiling. Eventually she insists — HMM HMM HMM! — and I know it's only a minute or two until it's a flat-out squawk — Come and get me now, people! I got you, babe. I am here.

These bright, brisk days the house fills with her sounds. The humming, the chatting, the thumping of the walking, the thumping of the dropping of things, the sliding of chairs across rug, across wood, the bongo drums, the tiny piano, the jingle bells that she shakes and bangs, the stumbling, the falling, the crying, the giggling, the chasing of the dog, the banging of spoons on trays, the banging of blocks on gates, the clatter of the tin cake-carrier when she drops it (favorite thing to carry around), the bubble-blowing, the singing, the questioning, the humming, the dear, sweet, jolly blah-blah of babydom, and oh, my stars, oh, oh how I love it so.

I wish you a very Merry Christmas, and a wonderful week of peace and tenderness, and simple pleasures wherever you find them. I hope joy comes to you, and your family, and your friends, and your animals in this wintertime, and I hope there are wonders, too, and wishes that come true. I hope you get to give a kid a great present, walk in the snow, go ice skating, see the city lights, sit in front of a crackling fireplace, or hold a sleeping baby. I hope you find magic in the season, especially in the moments when you least expect it. Thank you for being a part of our lives this year, and, from all of us Paulsons, I wish you much love and happiness. Merry, merry Christmas to you.

Xoxoxoxoxo,
a+a+a+c+bee

Little Tree comments: 99

The Christmas bustle! It's on. Cards to be written, gifts to be wrapped and mailed (and some to be, firstly, gotten at all), neighbor and friend presents to be made (this chai mix with these labels and these recipe cards), events to be scheduled and prepared for. It really is busy, as slow as you try to make it. Whoosh. Another December week, here and went.

I made a little cardboard bed for a little bunny. I also made a ticking-striped mattress, pillow, fitted sheet, flat sheet, pillowcase, wool blanket, calico comforter, and pink knitted wool throw. And a polka-dot nightgown. The bed was SO MUCH fun to make. Except for the legs (which are little wooden doll pins, turned upside down), it's entirely made out of cardboard, masking tape, paint, and varnish. Mint green. This darling bed was my inspiration for the shape. The design that I painted on it is the same as the one that I embroidered on Amelia's baby bunad. I varnished it all with triple-gloss varnish, which made it super glossy. I enjoyed making this so much. I wish I were making it right now.

Our girl is walking everywhere she wants to go, and pushing her little cart everywhere. She's so amazing. I adore her. Christmas with one-year-old is beautiful.

Snow Day comments: 94

Snow! And ice! And freezing temperatures! Everywhere! Do you have them too? I've been quite elated (except for that part where the weather cancelled our plans to go out of town of a day or two — wah) by the cold and am enjoying every minute of it. I love it. We've only really had one day of snow and many days of cold, but they say there might be more snow on the way today.

What do you think of my hawk picture??? Weirdest thing: Meems and I were setting out for a long walk on Sunday afternoon. About a block away from the house I saw the light shining through those seed pod things and wanted to take a picture of them. I debated going back for my camera; I almost didn't. We went back, got it, took a snap of the pods, and we continued on our way. It was strangely quiet. Amelia was asleep in the stroller. It was sunny and very cold, and for some reason (I guess no one wanted to go out in it) I could hardly hear any traffic (usually it's quite loud) and we hadn't seen a single car. I thought about what our neighborhood was like when it was just woods. I used to think this about my neighborhood at home, too; when you look at those giant oak trees, you feel like you can see settlers. The sun shone low in the sky behind bare branches. We walked another few blocks when suddenly there was the most awful and startling noise: bird violence, and in the air. I'd never heard the sound before, but I knew what it was somehow. I thought I'd seen a swoop and a flash some ways up the road but I couldn't be sure. We turned the corner and there, in the middle of the street — a Cooper's hawk, straddling a bluejay, the pair of them all giant wings and eyes. I stopped in my tracks, and an oncoming car rolled quietly toward us all, and stopped a few feet from the birds. We were all frozen, when suddenly the jay sprang back to life and made a break for it. He darted, low and sharp, toward the houses, stunned to be flying. The hawk casually hopped into a tree and looked around: Oh well. He cleaned something off his chest. I dove for my camera, tucked into that (maddening) net basket under the stroller and started snapping pictures as fast as I could. He was about twenty or thirty feet from me, not more. I snapped and snapped, amazed that he sat. Snap snap snap. I could see a very bundled couple walking their dog coming toward me. Snapsnapsnap. I tried to wave them off, knowing they would flush him, but they didn't understand my waves and points. He sat in the tree until they got right up to it, oblivious to him, and then he flapped off. They noticed the camera and said something polite like, "Oh, how nice, a crow" and I was apoplectic with frustration, excitement, and delight, sputtering, "It was a HAWK!!!" Oh! I showed them the photos on my camera's little LCD screen. Wow! Cool! We each told our only hawk stories from the neighborhood — it's so rare to see one! They watched one divebombing at the park a few years ago; I saw one other in our front yard tree one afternoon, and thought I was hallucinating. It made my day.

City peeps. We need to get out more, don't we!!! :)

*The dancing photos are from ScanFair, and yes, I'm still fiddling with CHAI. I can't stop.
**Her peasant dress and blouse are from Alice à Paris, and her booties are from Misha and Puff.

Happy Thanks comments: 100

Good morning, dear friends. I hope you had a slow and peaceful and lovely Thanksgiving weekend. Ours was wonderful. It wasn't all that slow (and Andy had to work Saturday and Sunday) but it was wonderful. The weather has been cold and crisp and mostly clear. Most of the deciduous trees have lost their leaves now, and though it's dark and damp, the sky feels more open now, and I like that. We cooked and ate our ways through the weekend, and have been tumbling into bed as early as possible. Mimi is still waking up at 2:00 or 3:00 a.m. She goes back to sleep after eating, but I don't right away, really. I doze and turn. Then we all get up around 5:00 (just when I'm pretty much completely back to sleep). Eeeesh, I'm tired, it's true. The bed is so cozy (I have the flannel sheets on now). I could probably sleep until 10, and I've never done that in my life.

This beautiful baby girl is growing so fast. She took four or five wobbly steps on her own over the weekend. She ate spinach, carrots, quinoa, stuffing, turkey, beans, cheese, potatoes, and apple. She is such a good eater. That's her, sleeping off her Thanksgiving dinner outside, after our walk. I love her so much.

Today, oh today. It's our first day alone together in the house in I don't know when. Andy and Aunt Susie are at work. Greta took most of last week off and will be back in tomorrow. I've been making little animals in my spare (ha!) time, getting them "right." I've made a kitters, a fox (he's a boy), a mousie, and a doe. They make me happy. They each have their own outfits: for the girls, a Liberty dress, a pair of boots, and something knitted (a cowl, socks, a scarf); for the fox, jeans and a gingham shirt and a scarf. Then there are two other sets of clothes and things: One set is for cold weather, with a duffle coat, sweater, pants, and a satchel; the other set is a nightgown, teddy bear, and mattress/sheets/wool blanket/pillowcase/comforter. I know, I'm insane. These will all be kits and patterns. They won't be available until sometime this spring. But slowly and surely they are coming together and I'm pretty excited. Amelia seems to love them all but has a preference for the fox and the mouse. So funny. I lay them all out on the table and she picks the mousie. She says, "Hi!" and smooshes her face into mousie's face. Over and over: "Hi!" Waving. Oh dear girl. You are the sweetest thing.

I'm looking forward to decorating for the holidays this year. We have a little tree that we are going to keep on the sideboard instead of on the floor this year. He's the cutest little thing. I spent alllllll day Saturday making a photo book of the last year and sending it in to be printed, hopefully in time to arrive for our little party mid-December. I used Artifact Uprising (and the funny thing is I scoured the internet hoping to find a discount code early Sunday morning to no avail; not ten minutes after I'd given up did they send an email saying that everything was 10% off through Monday at midnight. Score! [Use the code MERRY to get the discount.]) I don't know if you can get a book done today or not, but you might be able to take advantage of that coupon. I've ordered one of their books before, a softcover 6" x 8" and it was really nice. The books I made over the weekend are 100-page hardcovers. It was a big project and I'm very happy to be done, but it does feel really great to have finally gotten sooooooooo many photos organized and printed. I'm excited. I bought books for family, and two copies for us. I thought I would have one for us and save one for Amelia, for when she is grown. I want to do one for her every year. I also got our Christmas cards done. I was kind of a machine. But I hate waiting until the last minute on this stuff.

So, half of my Christmas shopping is done already. I actually went out by myself on Wednesday and got a bunch of things I knew I wanted. My car was broken down (my poor little nineteen-year-old car) and I took the bus and the streetcar downtown. It was kind of an exciting (I never go out!) and exhausting day. I like Christmas shopping early. I was hoping to be completely done by now!

December goes so fast. I'd like to get the house ready this week, and then sock in. Thank you for all of the awesome Netflix and other documentary suggestions! I'm tucking those away until January, when the Christmas movies are over. I'll make my list of those favorites this week. My sister said she heard is was going to snow? I can't imagine; the weather has been so mild. But I've got tea and little mouse sweaters to knit and fake fireplaces and snuggly walking babies (she just took five more steps, chasing the dog, as I wrote this — today is the day, I think!) and road trips and tiny, critter-sized Pendleton blankets to source, so I'm busy. I'll stare longingly at Mt. Hood (I took that photo from the side of Mt. Tabor, here in town) from afar and we'll plan a trip there for after the new year.

Thank you for being here, with your enthusiasm and kindness and interest and generosity, all these many (eight!) years. I've very grateful. I wish you all a wonderful, warm, peace-filled start of the holiday season.

Xoxoxoxoxox, a (and a and a and c and the b :)