Every year, right around late February, I rediscover with shock that this is, hands down, the most beautiful "season" in Northern California.
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| happy walking together up the hill |
We don't have seasons around here as they do in Eastern Europe or Western Montana, but we do have "seasonal intervals," characterized by not-so-subtle changes in the landscape, such as the color of the hills along the highway, the palette of flowers growing on windblown ridges, the evanescent fullness or startling absence of creeks, and the ever-changing fragrance of the redwoods. When we tune in with our five senses, there is plenty to anchor us to the rhythms of life that are larger than us and all around us.
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| one happy, the other in tears: "Sava, waaaaiiit for me!" |
So, to rephrase Thoreau, we go to the hills, woods, and marshes each weekend because we wish to look deliberately, to smell only the essentials of life, and to feel, even if just for a moment, what it means to live fully in the present.
I don't have a whole lot to report tonight, other than that spring has sprung in the Bay Area, and we are eager to be outdoors. It rained much of last night, and today the air crackled with crisp sunshine--the kind you might carve with a knife, put in a box, and ship to dispel some of the late-winter blues in Missoula.
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| Hound's Tongue, Western |
We went back to a park which we visited during late spring last year and where we participated in our first, memorable, docent-led wildflower walk. It's early in the season, but we spotted about half a dozen treasures.
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| Shooting Star |
Two miles feel just a
tad easier than they did last spring, and while the pace still resembles that of a very congested weekday morning on Highway 101--complete with constant stops, occasional small mishaps, brief engine breakdowns, and unexpected bursts of speed--we manage to cover the distance without excessive need for the assistance of emergency vehicles and crews. In about five years, I believe that we will hit cruising speed.
It helps that one kid can identify wildflowers all by himself now because he reads, while the other is easily distracted or mollified with a piece of cheese.
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| collecting fallen flower petals (we think that's legit) |
It also helps that they both seem immune to poison oak, which is thick in the parks rich with wildflowers and in which, naturally, they love to play.
I have little to report tonight other than that it is beautiful out there right now, and I love nothing better than the days we take off in order to walk these wide open spaces with our kids.
I repeat myself, but I don't think we can give them anything better than love for the great outdoors and appreciation for their bodies in the open air, their feet on a well-trodden trail, and their eyes on the exquisite beauty that grows, luxuriantly, all around us.
When they grow up, I'd like them to know, deep in their bones, that, happy or sad, elated or exhausted, they can find mental, emotional, and spiritual nourishment by putting one foot in front of the other and contemplating the big blue sky above them.
I'd like them to know that the beauty found in a grain of sand and in the petal of a flower
feeds our ability to love each other.
:::
In other news, biking adventures also continue and deepen. I don't have many photos of the main inspiration for this new family activity--Sava--because as soon as his bike is off the roof rack, he takes off before I have had time to turn on my camera.
He and Rado completed a 7+ mile ride at Crystal Springs last Saturday,
while Raya and I talked and, incidentally, covered about 1.5 miles also.
When I say talk, I understate. She did not allow a pause in the conversation of more than 15 seconds in the course of a full hour,
and the expression "did not get a word in edgewise" describes accurately my share in that conversation.
Without really meaning to, and
while talking, she also attained new mastery of the balance bike, as evidenced by the following series of pictures.
See how her feet are off the ground almost all the time?
Phoebe has been riding the
pedaled two-wheeler for about a month now, and I think Raya is well on her way to doing that before summer comes.
I am, at long last, a firm believer in the powers of the balance bike.
:::
For shorter rides, closer to home, Shoreline remains a favorite destination.
It's so close to home here, and so reliably beautiful, regardless of the weather.
During our last visit, the boys completed five miles, while Raya and I slowly made it over to the lake, spotting a clan of jackrabbits on the way,
and marveling at the blue brilliancy around us.
Passers by love to comment on the baby in the basket.
She loves the passers by who comment on the baby in the basket.
:::
Raya and Phoebe are still making up for time lost during the recent separation.
Various versions of "doctor" get enacted indoors
and outdoors.
If I could freeze them both at this precise age of three years and five/six months, I wouldn't hesitate.
Even though Raya recently declared, in the context of no longer wanting only a baby girl,
Mommy, I like boys. I've changed my mind about girls!
she really loves her girlfriend.
:::
And Sava?
He's always been the amazingly sensitive, thoughtful, reflective kid. With age, he seems to become more of all these things, even as the more playful aspects of his personalities emerge.
The other day, I took him to the wonderful Linden Tree bookstore to choose a book as a reward for having completed a certain reading project in school about which I have many things to say (another time). Thanks to the wonderful people working in the store, he was able to hone in on a beautiful book about "fighter planes" that has just the right level of technical information and sophisticated language to challenge without overwhelming him (let's just say I don't understand roughly 80% of the content of each page).
For two days now, he has not let go of this book except to sleep; this morning, at breakfast, he told me that had used a leftover electric "Halloween candle" in order to read his book before sunrise; he and Rado spent at least forty minutes reading six pages of the book before bed tonight, discussing minute details of WWI military aircraft; and this morning during opening assembly, he apparently walked up to the Principal and asked her whether he could share his book with his classmates during Language Arts class--this because, unlike Kindergarten, they no longer have "sharing day" in first grade. She allowed him to do so, and he delighted in showing all boys, "and two girls," his favorite pages in the book. It is not possible to love him more.
Also at breakfast this morning, while enjoying a moment together, he mused,
Mommy, I always like it when it's just you and me. I don't know why. I wish I knew . . . . (long pause) . . . I know! Raya's not bothering us with her babies.
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| painting a log-cabin birdhouse with Bob |
When I pick him up from school, we now have a new favorite exchange, which knocked me off my socks the first time I heard it but is now becoming exquisitely rehearsed:
Me: How was your day at school, sweetheart?
Sava: Well, as you like to say, nothing in life is perfect, so my day was good, but it was not perfect.
Me: Would you like to tell me one perfect part and one imperfect part?
Sava: As I said, nothing is perfect, so there were no perfect parts and no imperfect parts. But overall, it was pretty good!
Wishing you all a pretty good March.
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