My Funny Valentine Project

I love making Valentine's with the boys.  This sweet but semi-superfluous, semi-contrived holiday falls at a time when we've recovered from Christmas craftiness, and I need a project to focus on while we are mid-winter housebound.  In the past we've made fortune cookies out of felt with love notes inside, made flowers from cupcake papers, and made collages from magazine cutouts.  This year I was more excited than the boys about our project.  They did enjoy it, but I loved it.  Partly because it was an extremely green project, and I could feel so super good about it all.  Partly it was super practical, and partly it was goopy fun.  Hopefully I'm not being too smug about getting two of the three "R's".  We made paper and sprinkled it with wildflower seeds so that the paper could be planted--recycle AND reuse!!  Or is it double reused...or double recycled...hmmm.

I  went through piles of remnant construction paper and old abandoned art projects, collecting all of the scraps of paper I could.   It was fun looking at old cutout colored paper in relief and partially finished drawings from the kids, knowing that art and energy would go into these Valentines.  I got to reflect on previous artistic obsessions, such as the letter X.  I divided the paper into 4 piles of color groups--pink/red/purple, blue/green, brown/yellow/orange, and black.  I found 3 buckets and a small trashcan, and tore the paper into one inch-ish size pieces.  The boys helped some with this--since I decided to go big and do four batches (can I do anything little?).  If the project had been smaller they would likely have been able to tear plenty.  I added white paper (all recycled) into all of the buckets and then covered the paper with warm water and let it soak for a couple of days...mabye four?

I started the project thinking I could finish it the next day but that didn't work...it really only needed to soak for 24 hours.  But, I had work and various other interferences and I began to imagine all kinds of disgusting microbes festering in the water.  That didn't happen--well at least not to a significant and smelly point.  Probably partly because I put the buckets in our storage room that's nearly as cold as a fridge.  So I worried for nothing.

Anyhow, the next step was putting the paper with LOTS of water into the blender and making the glop.  This was the kids' favorite part, except for the baby, who hated the loud noise the blender makes on 'high.'  I collected window screens not being used in the middle of winter and placed them over the bathtub.  I got some plastic wrap and a half cup measure and went for it.  I had to experiment a bit with how to shape the paper.  I was trying to make hearts, which I more or less did, but that was a little tricky for the kids to achieve.  Their paper was a bit more free form and amorphous...and sort of thick, but pretty.  I achieved the heart by making a "V" with the glop, touching it up with my fingers to make it round and pointy, sprinkled on the seeds, then put plastic wrap over the top and pressed to shape and wring out excess water.   The tub turned into a rainbow.  The black and white paper turned a pretty purple.  The pinks and reds stayed true.  The brown palette glop made a lovely au natural peachy-tan.  The green and blue turned a muted minty color.

We then had several screens full of glop that dried overnight--super quick here in the dessert during wood stove season.  The paper peeled right off of the screens once dry, and had that lovely organic-looking soft edge.  Then I made up a little poem to explain what the paper was for:

Plant Me!

When Valentine's gone

And winter is done

Plant me in the ground

Give me water and sun

Soon flowers will show

And my friends will know

No matter the season

Love will always grow!

Cheesy enough?  Cute anyhow.  I attached these little poems to the hearts with yarn and had the kids write the "To" and "From" parts.  We had so much glop that I made some extra squared and rectangular papers and used them as background mattes, printing out some photos and mounting them on the paper for family Valentine's Day gifts.

I'm looking forward to planting some of these when Spring arrives.  With over a foot of snow on the ground and more falling from the sky as I type, it seems so, so far away from now.  At least we can dream about it.

Children of Avatar

Given that I live in the boonies, have three small children, haven't seen a movie in a theater with my husband since before we were married eight and a half years ago, and that I tend to hibernate in winter, it's shocking that I made it to the theater to see Avatar.  And it was well worth it.  It's one of those game-changing cultural and technological experiences that had to happen.  I had heard from enough people that it was "The Best Movie Ever," that I made it to the theater and was thoroughly engrossed and amazed.  Before I saw it, I wondered if I might be able to bring my 7 year old, C, to see it.  I had reasons:  he loves visual arts (and most other types of artistic pursuits), he has talked a lot about making movies when he gets older, he has a dreamy countenance and could engage in such a spectacular fictional world, and he would be able to engage in the cultural discussion and experience around this movie.  I spoke at length with dear mommy friends.  I heard of other kids his age and younger that saw it.  I went to one of my favorite websites for evaluating media for children, commonsensemedia.org.  I trust that website, and it had a definite 13 years old+ rating for children.  Based on that and other issues,  I decided against it.  Then I saw the movie myself.

Well, you know, wow.  Words can't really describe the experience.  Story aside, the 3D experience is like being on the holodeck of Pandora.  The intensity of the scenery, the acrobatics, the flying, the sharp-toothed critters were like nothing ever before on film (but, remember, I don't get out much)...not to mention the emotional intensity of the story and the absolute devastation that befalls the Na'vi in the loss of their home.  My husband and I came out of the theater in our own state of Shock and Awe.  Then we had a thoughtful discussion about whether or not our son should see it.  He had the same questions that I had thought about before seeing it.  We both admired the hero of the story, the warrior who finds his path and love.  We adored the strong female characters in the story, and the fact that the more 'primitive' culture triumphs over the machines (of course, how many machines were needed to make the film?).  There are many positive (if not psychadelic) messages in this story. 

 I take my job of raising boys--three of them--very seriously.  I am trying to strike the balance between strength and sensitivity;  trying to raise noble warriors.   In fact our eldest's moniker is that of a legendary Irish warrior.  We need powerful warriors and true heroes in our clans.  We speak often to our boys of what bravery means in the course of sword fights, archery, wrestling and general disagreements:  how to be strong, to stand for your beliefs--to know your beliefs, for that matter--to be honest and to communicate needs and feelings (use your words, boys).  And there have been moments when I'm even proud of my son for using physical force and standing up for himself.  C has for years taken the warrior role deep into his soul, and until recently dressed up constantly as a loincloth wearing Native, carrying quivers of arrows and bows. 

In spite of its warrior hero, I have concluded that Avatar is just too intense for my boy.  The dinosauroid critters were ugly, sharp-toothed and terrifying.  The first scene where Jake is alone in the forest would be nightmare-inducing enough...and for a little boy who lives in the forest amongst sharp-toothed creatures?  The fighting scenes were so realistic and violent--granted, though not gory.  Watching the home tree get torched and crash to the ground while the Na'vi flee--horrific.  And well, we live amongst the trees, too, and fire is a real, real issue every summer.  How is a young mind to process all of this?

I waver back and forth, pretty much constantly, about whether I am too protective of my child.  Children in other countries, or just other situations, actually use weapons, firearms, hunt, butcher...and play first person shooter video games, watch gore, violence and murder on television and in the theater.  Children are warriors, real and imaginary.  Consensus in our country and culture has given us the rating systems used on games and films.  But do people really pay attention to it?  I do, though I'm generally a rule follower...and I think I'm in the minority.  It is each individual parent/family's right to make decisions best for them.  But exposing 3 or 5 or 7 year olds to Avatar world?  Can a child even grasp the concept of fiction--science fiction--set 145 years from now?  Can they separate out reality from fake violence?  What do those searing images--of those animals and fires and dying Na'vi and humans with two arrows piercing the heart--do to the young brain?  Not to mention the degree of sensory stimulation that world presented....

I don't want to be judgmental of any parent that has chosen to take their child to see this film--I have really had to wrestle with these issues personally, and I'm laying it out here.  And my husband is still toying with taking C to see it (against my now formed opinion).  My reasoning on waiting for the 3D techno-experience is that the Alice in Wonderland movie and the Pixar dragon-tamer movie (the previewed films) will be coming out soon and C can go to the theater and experience these mellower films (though my husband argues that Alice in Wonderland might actually be scarier).  Will Avatar be in the theater, or home video, when he is at an age when I think he can handle it?  I'm sure it will be--and much, much more.  I am taking the path of (over?)protecting him--allowing him to remain in his childhood world.  Benign omission.   Because, though children do wield guns in certain parts of the world, I have the luxury of allowing my child to be a child.  He can be the warrior of his own making.  Once a door such as Avatar's is opened, there is no going back.  The innocence is lost;  a child begins to see the monster in the dark is real, the evil in the world is present and often deceitful, the intentions of others are muddy.  These are all lessons we learn in life--but when should we learn them?

It is hard, because there is a social pressure on kids to have seen this movie (or others like it--Batman, Spiderman, Star Wars--even more enticing to children and all PG-13) so that they are in the know.  But which child can really handle it?  Some kids my son's age very likely can handle this movie.  When is it that a child can watch a person die on screen through violence and understand the full impact and consequence of this?  The child brain operates on a concrete level--without the ability to think outside of itself (think: sharing) until the age of 12, give or take.  Children cannot perform abstract thought.  They can understand pretend, of course.  But the abstract concepts will be distorted in a child's mind to a point they can understand;  they will create a myth around this story to process the images.  And they will be desensitized to bad things.  I only saw a few pictures of the devastation in Haiti because it was enough--to know what had happened was enough.  I did not need the bombardment of grotesques images.  I'm a sensitized adult and was able to imagine enough about the tragedy.  The children warriors and hunters who wield guns or butcher goats are in living those situations--they are real to them and they see the blood and hear the cries.  Seeing violence third hand...well, I wonder about what effect that detatchment has on the soul.  Is the story understood?  Is the consequence translated? 

The questions I pose are sincere, and I would be very curious to hear from people who have taken children to see this film and what their experience has been.  For my tender-hearted boy (and self), I will postpone this experience.  He has enough going on in his imagination.  See clown, above.

Iscream for snowscream!

In honor of the highly anticipated series of snowstorms forecast to hit our little ol' piece of the Southwest, I'm putting out the recipe for one of our very most fave things regarding snow.  Yes, young and old alike love snow ice cream.  I know it is cold on cold--most of us want a hot cocoa after a tromp in the snow.  But it's fun and you can have cocoa with it.  And, hey, it's ice cream...kids don't care what temperature it is.


Snow Ice Cream
Get a big bowl of clean snow--at least 5 cups
1 cup half and half
1/2 cup sugar or maple syrup
1tsp vanilla
dash salt

Stir--will get nice and creamy.  Dreamy!  You can also experiment with flavors if you fancy--peppermint extract, lemon, lime or other fruit juice.  You can even squirt in a blob of chocolate syrup.  If you like, skip the dairy for a more sorbet experience. 

I thought myself quite clever, leaving the large bowl outside after serving to keep cold...then the kitty found it and had herself a big milky treat.  You may want to transfer to a smaller bowl, perhaps with a lid, and store wisely. 

Enjoy!

Reflections on Magical Thinking

I fear we are passing a milestone that I'm realizing I'm not quite prepared for.  With the magical glow of Christmas fading away in the rear view mirror, and the light and length of days growing steadily longer in the road ahead, I've been pondering the fairy world.  You know, Santa and the like.  My oldest, at age 7, seems like he has rocketed (and not slowly transitioned as I'd envisioned) from magical thinking to concrete thinking.   He spent the weeks before Christmas asking questions about the existence of Santa Claus, pondering the plausibility, examining the details and questioning the logistics.  I suppose this is the age when this sort of thing starts--it is after all the transition from magical to concrete operational, or some such thing that Piaget and Steiner and parents any observer of children note.  I'm just surprised at how quickly it came.  I think that the older kids on the playground plant the seed of doubt, and as concrete logical thinking grows so does the questioning. 

As the fall semester ended and we entered the cocoon of winter break some weeks back, I found that as the days since the playground accumulated and Christmas grew closer, C's belief in the magic of Santa began to rise again.  By the time the holiday arrived he was in the throes of flying reindeer and magical sleighs.  He declared several times that he was a believer.  He claimed, a la Polar Express, to hear the sleigh bells.  Assessing his booty, he was thankful, several times, to Santa and all that he delivered.  He even wanted to write him a letter of thanks (see my heart glow with that gesture).  It was amazing how Santa knew exactly what to bring, he reflected.  We played with the toys in our insulated home.  2010 came.  School restarted this week.  Then the test happened.

Last night, C mentioned that he had a newly loose tooth--his eighth, so he's very familiar with the coinage accompanying lost baby teeth.  He was wiggling away and it seemed quite loose for a new one--but those teeth can linger for months...and I heard nothing more.  This morning, he presented to the kitchen for breakfast, left lateral incisor tooth in hand.  He told me that he'd pulled it out last night and hadn't told anyone, left it under his pillow...and was disappointed to confirm that the tooth fairy does not exist this morning.  I was stunned.  Speechless.  I looked surprised, saying, "Oh, really?"  Then as is my usual fashion with difficult questions, I figured I'd turn them back on him.  What did he think happened?  I didn't ask too much, as I was trying frantically in my head to come up with a decent explanation...and tried to just let the silence seem natural.   In the end, nothing emerged in the moment so I dropped it.  I thought about it all day, and wondered if I could leave some quarters under his pillow while he was at school...but he took the tooth with him so that wouldn't work.  The teaching assistant in his class even called me at home to alert me of his test, bless her heart, but alas, I'd already found out.  At the end of the school day, he showed me the tooth in my rear view mirror as I drove out of the parking lot, replacing it in it's former socket and smiling.  He wondered if the tooth were still alive, if it would then be any value to the TF.  Then he stated matter of factly that he had in fact been testing the existence of the fairy and she failed.  He didn't say anything further.  He didn't ask me if it was me all this time, which I thought would be the ergo question.  I guess he's not quite ready to give it up completely...?  Though I did ask if he was going to put it under his pillow tonight and he said no, he was going to put it in a picture.  I suggested she might come steal it.  He said he didn't know.

Between this and Santa, I've wondered at the wonder of magical fairies.  Why are they so great?  Why do we propagate these lies?  I do believe that is how the young child's mind works.  Anyone who's spent any time with a 4 year old will be amazed at the imagination and magic that child will create, linking unlikely worlds, explaining how planes fly, how telephones work, watch them occupy mythical characters, performing impossible feats.  And as adults, Santa allows us to indulge in that magic, to honor the mysteries of life and relish the innocence, both of our child's and our own in remembrance.  I have been amazed at my own reaction to this (essentially) loss of innocence...one step closer to grown up, letting go, moving away from mom, not needing me...or perhaps I'm making too much of it. 

I also think that fairies and Santa give a needed degree of separation and consequence from a parent.  The day in, day out correcting/feedback/instruction that children receive from their parents can get old for both parties.  Creating that third party that is privy to all, sees all, knows all, but detaches the parent and all of that baggage.  As parents well know, children save their best tricks and worst behavior for home, where it's (usually, hopefully) safe to try out.  They can let their guard down, they don't have to keep it all together, and they can be a little terror to mom and she will love you in the end no matter what (usually, hopefully).  So behavior watched by a St. Nicolaus, Santa Claus, Kris Kringle who will know and reward or punish accordingly truly can bring out the best in a child.  Though I can't help but feel guilty about it, I pulled out a few Santa threats this year.  I even dialed him on my cell phone at one point.  But what a powerful motivator.  And it seems in my quick online research on Santa, that he has existed/been borrowed and evolved since the time of the Greeks.  This is not a new phenomenon.

I recall the exact moment in my childhood that I found out about Santa.  I had clung on until I was 8 in spite of three older siblings.  I believed, because everyone told me it was so.  Then I asked my mom one day, near Christmas, knowing she would tell me the truth but not expecting the answer I received.  We were in the laundry room with the ugliest orange-brown utility carpet you can conjure up in your mind as a background print on the moment.  I felt duped.  I felt so silly and small and that everyone had lied to me and I was mad that I was the last one in on the big joke on me.  I think it had something to do with being the youngest and needing to have everything perfect all of the time.  This was not in the plan.

I recovered.  And from what I hear, my reaction is unusual.  Kids seem to assimilate the truth about Santa/Easter Bunny/Tooth Fairy/Halloween Fairy magic slowly, and appreciate that the world was made softer and sweeter for them by those adults that love them.  In fact, I think that only now, as I perpetuate that lie that so upset my 8 year old self, do I realize how much love goes into being a magical fairy for your child.  And I realize the grief that goes with losing that soft, sweet, innocent outlook on the world that is being a young child.  There is nothing that quite compares to the joy and wonder on a child's face when a fairy-granted surprise greets them.  And tonight, as C goes to bed, I wonder what he will do with his tooth.  Which direction will he choose to go?  He's been playing with it all night and has actually lost it a couple of times, prompting me to suggest TF came and got it.  But he's recovered it, it's sharp and half-hollowed out edges irritating his palm.  I wonder.  I know it's ineveitable.  As I look at his big round face in the rear view mirror, now with big front teeth floating in space by now two empty sockets, I see that I am looking at my little boy, seeing the magic (though definitely NOT the creativity) fade into the background of the road we've already traveled.

12 Days of Crafty Christmas

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love made for me:  

12 (x 10) sugar cookies

eleven pipers piping

 

Ten pounds of fudge

 

Nine degrees Farenheit

 

Eight colored cards 

(drawn by your son and printed professionally as a school fundraiser that were too cute to pass up)

Seven small students singing 

(mostly sitting on stage)

 

Six hand knit Nepalese stockings by way of a little shop in Steamboat Springs that I had to order in a panic at the last minute because I couldn't find our stockings after traveling last Christmas and I love these cute knitted ones and wish I could knit this beautifully and I paid full price and expedited shipping for but S still has his from last year because we had to order him a new one since his old one was chewed on and nested in by a mouse....

(INHALE)

FIVE SWEET SMALL FINGERS!!

 

Four felt gnomes

 

Three wooden elves

 

Two knitted bears

 

And a green sweater with a red star!!!!!

(that I obsessively knitted for my eldest son so he'd have a holiday sweater since Grama couldn't find one for him and she found some for the younger ones!!!!!!!) 

Home Made Christmas Ornaments

Did you know that you can bake salt dough (ie, home made play dough) and it will harden enough to make a 3-dimensional sculpture...like an ornament?  I'm wondering how I have made it this far in life and just realized that.  We had a fun afternoon playing with the dough--free hand sculpting, rolling, cutting and molding.  My 7 year old made a snowman, Mary + Joseph and baby Jesus, then another 2 little baby Jesuses, a Christmas tree and a wreath.  They are adorable, very authentically his, and fun little secret santa presents.  The 4 year old wanted to make a pile of candy canes which will look almost planned out and cohesive on our tree.  I made a few big snowflakes and trees and will give them away as little presents.

We also used some extra cookie cutters and backed them with fun paper prints to make some ornaments.  The scissor work was slightly tricky, and the gluing/taping was kind of intricate.  But my 7 year old especially liked this.

Home Made Dough Ornaments
yield-dough for 5 dozen +/- ornaments
4 c all purpose flour
2 cups salt
1 1/2 cups water
1 t alum (we didn't have this;  it's a bitter preservative agent--I used ginger and cinnamon instead and the dough seemed fine.

Mix all ingredients thoroughly with hands.  Add water 1T at a time if to dry.  If desired tint dough with food dye by kneading in.  Cover (keep covered while working in dry climates);  can be refrigerated for up to 2 weeks.

Roll-1/8 inch thick and cut with cookie cutters.  If making ornaments use a straw or stick to make a hole near the top.

Mold-up to 1/2 inch thick.

Heat oven to 250 deg F.  Place decorations on ungreased cookie sheet and bake about 2 hours (until completely hard and dry).  Cool completely on wire rack.  Sand decorations lightly until smooth.  You can paint them with acrylic paint and seal if desired.

Advent-ures

Like the small voice of Cindy-Lou Hoo asking "Why, Santa?" I and so many parents fight a lopsided battle against the consumerism and commercialism of the Christmas Holiday.  We all remember that iconic story where the Grinch steals "The Stuff" and it doesn't matter--Christmas comes anyhow, and they sing and hold hands and share the love.  That sentiment really does hold true for most of us during the gifty winter holidays--it's the sharing and togetherness that is the richness.  But reigning in the desire is another thing altogether.  Everyday in the mail a pile of catalogs arrive:  the same company (and its sister companies) sends some publication every other day.  The kids see the direct advertisements with X-ray vision when I pull the stack of mail out of our box, and immediately ask to look at them.  I'll admit, handing them back for them to peruse buys me 3 minutes of silence between the mail box and our house.  But like the night in winter, the children's toy want lists grow longer.  Most of the catalogs we receive (in spite of multiple calls to various companies to cancel them, requesting that I be taken off mailing lists, etc.) have lovely natural toys, mostly made in the USA.  I am okay with most of what they see,  though they all create a false sense of need.  But a couple sneak through that show behemoth plastic multi-storied castles, rockets, dinosaur villages.  Even if I were inclined to buy these, we just would not have the room in our house.  As it is, I need to go through the boys' toys ASAP (all three of them share one room with toys and art and stuff for all three age ranges crammed into storage shelving in like an overstuffed pillow) and share some boy toy love (not that kind, ahem).

One way I keep the meaning of the season forefront is with the celebration of Advent.  This is something I've only started doing in the past few years, but it is a wonderful way to bring to life the stories (and I do include all of them--its a great opportunity for a comparative review of the world's religions) of this season and honor the solstice. It is a time of quiet anticipation, preparation, waiting.  Of course, it's mostly about the birth of Jesus, and we really have fun with it, celebrating little traditions the boys talk about all year long.   And we talk a lot about Jesus in his many contexts.  Most of our celebrations mirror those going on in the boys' Waldorf-inspired school, and the first thing to come is the Advent wreath.  It is simple--I just arranged ours on the kitchen table with some greens and five candles;  each of the four candles is to be lit on the four Sundays of Advent and the center one is for Christmas Day.  We light the first candle (I'll admit we were slightly late this year, still recovering from Turkey Day goings-on) and sing a few sweet little songs and talk about what is to come.  The first light of Advent is a time to think about the stones in our world--shells, minerals, bones, crystals.  All of that first week, I put one special little treasure in their advent stockings along that theme.  I set up the Creche on a separate table, starting with just the stable, and we add daily to the display with the little advent surprises.  Boys love rocks--they really like the first week.  Our advent "calendar" is a collection of 24 little stockings on a rope--a fun preview of the larger holiday to come.  Each week we move "up" the scale of complexity:  the second week is the light of the plants, the third week the light of the animals, and the fourth week the light of the people.  I put corresponding gifts (recycled from year to year-nothing fancy) in the stocking--a little wooden heart, a piece of petrified wood, some juniper berries;  then little wooden animals;  then little people, all of which go over to the manger scene.  Occasionally I'll be a fun mom and throw in a little chocolate coin or ball.  By the time it's Christmas, the Creche is full of stones, crystals, moss, evergreens, leaves, animals, and people awaiting the rival of the wee baby.

Okay.  I have to make a little confession: I almost put all of our stuff away the first day of advent because the older boys were fighting incessantly about who got what and when and all of that annoying stuff siblings fight about.  In anticipation of this, I had even planned it out ahead of time how it would go down in what I thought was a fair manner...but you know what happens to the best laid plans.  Ooh, was I mad.  I lectured them about how this was all supposed to be fun, reminded them of the "true meaning" of the season.  Blah blah blah.  Fortunately we all calmed down by the next day, and they are taking turns and playing nice.  I don't think making threats really goes along with the various messages of the season...but who's perfect? 

Back to the story:  the folks at the left here are Mary, Joseph and the Donkey.  This is one of the boys' favorite traditions.  They start out on their journey to the manger at the beginning of Advent.  I put the figures far away from their ultimate destination and each night they travel just a little on their way--the kids love to seek them out the next morning.  Some nights I forget to move them, and then have to make up explain that they just needed a rest day or a shopping day.  She is pregnant after all and it's hard to do anything in that state.  And then one year the cleaning lady took them home--supposedly on accident.  I'm not sure what you'd want to do with 3 very small wooden figurines like these, but she says they were on a windowsill and somehow they got in her cloth and she took them home and they went through the wash.  When they went missing did we ever have a panic.  My oldest one was concerned to the point of obsession.  I made up all kinds of stories about their travels--they had taken a very big detour.  Thankfully they made it back in time for her to give birth to the Lord right on schedule.

In honoring the quietness of Advent, bringing more light with each successive week as we approach the very darkest time of the year, and focusing in on the very basic elements of our environment, we can push away the overwhelming messages of unbridled consumption that come with Christmas.  My son's preschool does this in a most beautiful way, from the messages the teachers give, to the small surprises of Advent, to the presence of St. Nicolaus.  He comes not to ask the children what they want, but to recognize their strengths and encourage them to work on their not so strong points.  I witnessed this a few years ago when I very first visited the school, as a volunteer/good sport white-bearded man in a shabby red velvet suit with a beggar by his side (the real story of St. Nick) and a big special book spoke knowingly to each child in the class and offered a small gift--a golden walnut representing the hardship of life (getting into the nut) as well as the rewards for hard work (the nut meat).  The children were entranced;  it was pure magic.

This year, several of the moms in our class worked together to make this most beautiful felted woolen Advent calendar with pockets for little goodies--wee gnomes that appear one by one each day.  It's beautiful--a work of art.  The tapestry is brilliantly colored with strong tree roots at the bottom, a many-branched evergreen, and the majestic winter sun atop it all. 

Winter has fully hit us here with extreme cold and a gorgeous, clean white covering of snow.  The icicles hanging from the roof glisten in the morning sun.  We're settling into the countdown of Advent (we've all calmed down, and are taking turns and playing nice...mostly...at least with the Advent calendar), especially now that it looks like Christmas.  Tonight we get to light candles and place them in a spiral made of pine boughs followed by cookies and warm drinks at the school's Advent Spiral celebration.  I'm making biscochitos as we speak.  And though the catalogs are coming at lightening speed and voluminous quantity in the peak of shopping season, we can come home, build a fire (perhaps with the catalogs?), quiet down, light a candle and play with some rocks.  And, you know, be together while it's -4 degrees outside.  Because along with giving and sharing and kind deeds,  that's really what the season's all about:  figuring out how to live together inside while it's really cold and dark.