Nature and Nurture

Apparently there's a nature center about an hour away from us that highlights, among other things, the spawning of the largest horseshoe crab population in the world, which is usually at the full moon in May (or something like that). This was the first year we were aware of it, so we didn't manage to see the live masses of horseshoe crabs that we were secretly hoping for, but there was plenty of evidence that they had been there.

Another piece of that ecosystem is migratory shorebirds that eat the crab eggs, and though we didn't see the little Red Knot bird that the video was all about at the nature center, we did have a lot of fun looking for them among the egrets, blackbirds, terns, gulls, vultures, and cormorants at a nature preserve -- though the pictures don't show much of the action, because our little point and shoot is sadly inadequate for nature photography.

And, being so close to the Atlantic and it being a decently seasonable May day, we went ahead and drove a little further, got the kids into their suits, and let them play in the sand and waves. Every time we visit the Atlantic I see dolphin pods swimming out there, and though I know they're farther than they look, they always look as if some brave swimmer could go touch one. It's amazing.

We actually ended up driving around a lot, to five different spots on the coast, trying to see a live horseshoe crab. (We ended up seeing ONE at the end of the day, which was vindicating.) Being in the car was a little boring for the kids, but it was nice to see them get excited about the creatures that live by the sea. Plus, I was able to talk to them about how all the water from the creeks and rivers near our house end up here, at this particular estuary, and see it click as their eyes got wide. ("The stream RIGHT by our house mommy?") I reminded them about how we try to compost, and use less water and soap, and recycle, and that THIS (all the marshes and beaches and birds and crabs) was one big reason why we did all that, to take care of it, even though at our house we usually can't see where it all will end up. I think they'll remember that.

S. and I always hope that our kids will be glad for our bent towards nature rather than video games, but often it seems like just video games would really be fine with them. So, this trip was a good idea. (Thanks, S., who was the one to push for it!) It was wonderful to nurture the kids with good experiences, and at the same time to feel that bond with the natural world.

Escalators

Lucy got scared on an escalator recently, and tried to get off again right as she was getting on, resulting in a bit of a tangle and some tears as one leg kept going and another didn't. I was already halfway up, unfortunately, and couldn't comfort her -- I had to go all the way up and then back down to help her finally make the trip. She was very sad, but the rest of us found it mostly funny.

You forget until you have little kids how much practice escalators take -- but once they figure them out, they're a source of endless delight. Who hasn't had a kid beg to go up and down, up and down? (In fact, don't I recall a much younger Ian doing just that with Aunt Mish in the airport?) So, here's to the ups and downs of life -- and to playing catch-up after not posting on the blog in quite a while. Birthdays, holidays, cranky toddler days, they're all part of this amazing ride we're on. We're still alive, and (mostly) loving it.

A few favorite kid phrases we've heard lately:

"Come back here, you little peepsquirt!" (Lucy)

In response to Ian jokingly threatening to punch her lights out, "No! I don't have lights!" (Nora)

And some pictures, in roughly reverse chronological order:

Family Home Evening -- typical expressions, right?

Ian's party, which included the coolest obstacle course ever, but I have only videos of that part, no pictures

Mother's Day (sorry, Lucy took all the pictures that day, mostly self-portraits)

Boomer's (a Chuckie Cheese-like place), which the kids earned with piano practice and various other chores they've been working on since January

Ian in Cub Scout uniform, having earned his Bear badge

Ian's (actual) birthday

S. rock climbing

S.'s birthday

There! All caught up. Have fun on the escalators.

A Bird in Hand

The older I get, the more I crave the tactile, the real, the palpable. So much of my formal education was spent in the abstract appreciation of the aesthetic and the theoretical, but now I relish the beauty of practical things. For my morning exercise, I've been climbing stairs while listening to the Modern Scholar lecture series from Recorded Books, and it has surprised me how much more I have preferred the lectures on human anatomy over music. Perhaps it is my own simple-mindedness, but the context of basic survival makes the questions of form and function seem more significant, and the solutions more elegant. Oftentimes, the most useful is also the most beautiful.

Take the Alpine Butterfly, pictured above. In preparation for a rock climbing class I've been learning some basic climber's knots, and I don't think I have ever seen such a perfect marriage of simplicity and function as the Alpine Butterfly. If you need to hang something from the middle of your rope, you could not in a hundred years invent a thing more symmetrical, practical, or easier to remember than this very basic knot, made by passing a line a few times across the palm of your hand. I have read many poems in my time, but none more elegant than that.
[Above: Another wonderfully symmetrical knot--the Double Fisherman's Bend, an ingenious means of joining two rope ends via interlocking hitches.]

K. has also enjoyed learning with her hands, taking a weekly sign language class from the wife of a deaf man in our congregation. I have always been a little envious of the expressiveness that sign language affords its speakers, which is probably why some cultures (I'm looking at you, Italians) love speaking with their hands. [Above: K. makes the sign for "bread." Below: the sign for "magic."]

Say "Cheese!"

Growing in Grace

We're at a point in our lives when we're becoming very rooted. I'm not ruling out any mid-life crises to come, but things feel stable, united, peaceful overall. Maybe not moment to moment, but definitely year to year. S. and I see friends and relatives still in the crazy, three-kids-and-moving-to-yet-the-next-apartment phase, and it feels good to have fiiiiinally gotten past that ourselves, knock on wood.

I thought it might be boring in middle-aged prosperity, but it turns out it's not. (Though S. might disagree, stuck in an office most of his waking hours.) I feel like there's plenty of scope for adventure despite not having to apartment-hunt long-distance while nursing a newborn while...well, you get the idea.

One of our latest enterprises reflects my budding middle-aged feelings rather well: we've ordered apple trees for our backyard. Two have arrived already and were planted with care, and one more should be on its way soon. Since we planted two (non-apple) trees last spring as well, and one of them may grow to be 70 feet tall, it was harder than we thought to fit all five in our plot without them crowding each other or shading my beloved garden. I spent quite a while out back with a tape measure and a piece of scratch paper on which I had estimated the space each tree required, pacing distances and placing sticks in the ground as markers. I had to redo that spacing more times than I can count, since each tree was so dependent on the other for pollination. I'm still not quite sure I got it right, but I think I couldn't do any better, which is almost the same.

So the trees are growing. They're beautiful out there, so spindly and yet graceful, with such promise of fruit. Today in church I was looking down the row at my kids, thinking about how much I take them and their sweet little desires for granted, and realizing how much I'll miss them when they're grown and I get all my coveted personal space back. When we planted them, so to speak, we had no real idea of whether or not our enterprise would be a fruitful one, but we had faith that it would.

There's a scripture in the Doctrine and Covenants that I've thought about a lot recently. It says: "And I consecrate unto them this land for a little season, until I, the Lord, shall provide for them otherwise, and command them to go hence; and the hour and the day is not given unto them, wherefore let them act upon this land as for years, and this shall turn to them for their good." I remember having that scripture pointed out to me years ago, it seems to me in the context of the life of President Howard W. Hunter, who only served as prophet for nine months or so. I've tried to have the faith to live "as for years" ever since, through all the uncertainties and uprootings and seeming impossibilities. Even when we knew we were only living in a place for a limited time, we always tried to act as though it were for forever, and we've grown immeasurably through that attitude.

So we plant our apple trees and imagine kids and grandkids climbing in them, and hope for the future fruit -- if not for ourselves, then for others. And in the meantime, while we're waiting, I'll sit in church and rejoice in my children, already bearing fruit: the closing hymn today was I Know That My Redeemer Lives, which happens to be Ian's favorite, and he was singing with his eyes closed and his chest thrown out and the whole congregation could hear him. If you've never seen this kid sing, you've missed an awe-inspiring scene.

Round the Corner

Three miles from our house are the rolling hills of Ashland and Mt. Cuba. I've always loved the human-sized perspective of hills, the impression they give that something bright and new is just over the horizon. We live in a good place.