barn raising

30 December

life's joys

This time of year is so full of awakening.  I found myself in the days before Christmas revelling in the joys of the season and thinking how can I possibly move past this time of year?  How can I not listen to these Celtic carols, and soak up the anticipation of so much to come?  How can I not drink deep the smell of fir tree in the house, and the quiet peace of Advent.  Then, like magic, somewhere around Christmas feast I realize I've let go and am ready to move forward into the wonderful space of post-Christmas; a simultaneous winding down and winding up of life's joys.  After much inward reflection and honouring, and fuelled by inner light, the journey toward the new year beckons.

But, oh, those days before.  The days when we tried to decide what treats to leave out for Father Christmas's reindeer.  Parsnips? Cranberries?  Lichen?  The days when we welcomed King Winter at last and celebrated the magic of Solstice with a lantern and labyrinth walk in a nearby seaside village.  On the eve of the longest night of the year we threw stones into the sea by moon and lantern light, casting away our troubles and sending wishes and blessings into the night.  The days when we feasted with our family and friends- breakfast, lunch and dinner!  The days when we soaked up the winter sunshine, and the days when we layered on the woolens as shelter from the fog and mist.  The days when, for Advent, we honoured the beasts and humans.  The trimmings, the sweets, the laughter, until finally it was Christmas Eve.  Once Coco was snug in bed, we worked in the spirit of Christmas to give her the greatest gift...a morning of magic and belief.

Then, the day after Christmas.  Saying goodbye to family, we went for a fresh and chilly walk through the woods at the base of a local mountain.  It's a trail I love deeply.  Everything seemed so blue and the woods so purpley dark, and the air felt clear and new.  The creek rushed next to us and we gazed above at the higher peaks to the snow dusting the trees like a storybook wonderland.  In all of my heart's memory and longing for the countryside in which I was raised, I often overlook and forget the majesty of where I live now.  It is breathtaking, as are all of life's joys. 

I hope your holiday celebrations continue to bring you and your loves togetherness and joy!  

30 November

the first light of Advent

Sunday was the first light of Advent.  I have to tell you, this ritual that I only knew to be Advent calendars some 4 years ago has become such a meaningful celebration for me and such a symbolic marker of time.  I was first introduced to the concept of the four candles by my wonderful Catholic neighbour, who explained to me the meaning for her and how they celebrate it in her home.  Then I did research (of course...I'm always researching things) and found that Advent was symbolic of a time of waiting- in most cases, waiting for the arrival of Christmas, but in our case, also waiting for the news that our family was growing.  Since then, Advent has held this special magic for me. 

Now we have a 2 year old who just participated in her first Advent Spiral ceremony at school this past Sunday.  What a difference a few Advents make!  There are so many elements of Waldorf that resonate with me and fill me with pride and confidence in the educational choice we are making.  Advent, and the celebration of it in the school, only deepened this for me.  Cedar boughs were laid out in a spiral, and the children were given candles held in apples which they then, one by one, carried to the centre of the spiral to light from a larger candle.  They then set their candle down on a gold star in the boughs and in doing so the darkness in the room turned to a beautiful orange light as the spiral was set aglow, thus symbolizing the warmth of light in all of us, even in the greatest darkness.  Needless to say, my eyes were blurry with tears as Coco took her teacher's hand and walked quietly to the centre.  Grateful for her, grateful for her chance to learn in this environment, grateful for the teacher she already loves, grateful for the spell that fell over all of us.  The lyre music; the celebration; the hush.  She was so sure of herself, and there was no hesitation.  Her face glowed from the light of her candle and I felt as though we were all living in a magical storybook (to which a dear friend would answer, you are!). 

Later, and after Coco proceeded to eat her Advent apple, we brought Advent into our home with the lighting of our first candle at dinner.  Our Advent ring only just arrived yesterday, so we improvised with our first candle- a beeswax tealight surrounded by the treasures of this first week's celebration.  This year is our first in honouring the four elements with each new week of Advent.  First the stones, minerals, bones.  Second, the plant kingdom.  Third, the animals and, finally, the fourth light honouring humans.  I think I could stay in the stone element for all of Advent.  I love the variety of the crystals, the calcium in the shells, the rocks, the beach glass.  It brought magic to the table, indeed.

The first light of Advent is the light of stone-
Stones that live in crystals, seashells, and bones.

28 November

the season is upon us

This is the time of year, isn't it, when all of our intentions to stay slow and mindful are put to the test?  I admit to playing my Christmas music from time to time for a couple of weeks now...okay, 3 weeks, but how can I not fill the house with wintry and festive fiddle music?  I do get, though, that for many people hearing carols the day after Halloween is just too much and despite my love of Celtic carols, I agree.  There are lots of reasons that the seasons are pushed, mainly to encourage people to buy, buy, buy, and through that we lose the sacredness of what we're actually celebrating.  It's too bad, but totally understandable, that the holidays are stressful for so many people.  Simplicity gets so lost under the weight of it all- decorating, gifting, cooking, buying, preparing, rushing. 

Christmas is my favourite time of year.  I love it for its beauty in the bringing together and celebrating of those we love in our lives.  And the celebrating of something greater than all of us, whatever that may be for each person.  That's the magic, right?  What makes it special is the very part we can't quite put into words and explain. 

Though I have a lot of Christmas decorations that have been handed down to me and acquired over the years, I've decided that this year I'll be very choosy about what comes out in an effort to help capture that magic.  Our house is already full enough, and I don't want the decorations to make it feel overwhelming.  Some garland, a nativity set, the tree, of course.  It will be enough.  And through that we can focus on the true meaning of the holidays.  For us, we'll turn toward the ritual and tradition that fills this season- Advent, St. Nicholas' Day, Christmas.  In many ways, the it's the addition of these added celebrations that help in slowing down to take in the moment.  Knowing, too, that how we choose to celebrate is also choosing what kind of experience Coco will have.  Will it be lots of in and out of the car, gifts upon gifts to tear open Christmas morning, and other busyness?  Or will it be reverence, stepping slowly through the festivities, taking it all in like a deep breath; enjoying and creating the space for her to fall in love with the season. 

I had this chance as a child.  The magic of all of it lives deep in my heart.  We always had a tree, the special Christmas books were brought out each year, and the same friends visited us every Christmas Eve for a moonlit walk through the woods in search of a yule log to burn.  It was the same every year, and looking back I'm grateful to my parents for nurturing the magic in these very simple ways.

What I love about blogging and my time spent on the computer is the daily reminder of my best intentions.  Both through writing and reading, researching and learning, I've come to be able to cultivate those parts of life and living that I wish to celebrate.  As we approach a very big season, celebrated in very different ways across the globe, I look for inspiration in how best to create magic for Coco, and for myself and Sean, and I turn toward our values and family intention in bringing that magic to life.  I'll share our celebrations here over the coming weeks, and I would also love to hear how you keep things simple and special in your home as the holidays begin.

Yesterday was the first day of Advent.  I'll share more on this later, but Advent feels to me like a lovely quiet hush that falls over us and transforms the days and weeks before Christmas into a time of inner warmth and ritual; days spent telling stories, lighting candles, and inviting the peace of the holidays to settle in.

12 August

heirloom gardens

A few weeks ago it occurred to me, as I was pulling sprigs of sea holly, lamb's ear, and lavender out of my suitcase (slightly weathered from the trek from my dad's Ontario garden to ours), that our flower garden is more like a family tree then a bed of plants.  Over the years we've gathered pots and bags filled with roots and earth from the gardens of friends and family  to boost our fledgling gardens.  The garden at our first house was filled with plants like these and I'm glad I was able to take a few with us when we moved to this house. 

Most precious to me is the rose we bought after our old faithful retriever, Lincoln, died.  It's a "Lincoln Rose", no less, and under it is buried a scattering of his ashes.  This rose blooms large and strong every year- most certainly the most successful rose I've ever tended.  It's deep, purpley-red petals smell spicy and sweet and I truly feel his presence around it. 

There's the Tiger Lily that grows almost as tall as me, whose seeds are direct descendants of a Tiger Lily plant that grew in Doaktown, New Brunswick, where my grandfather was born.  I also have seeds from his Columbine and inky, black Hollyhock to plant next year.  I have countless plants from my mom's garden- Hops, Chives, and Periwinkle to name a few.  There are different varieties of Hostas from almost everyone I know who owns a Hosta plant, and plants that were gifts, like the Soloman's Seal that my neighbour gave me last year during a spontaneous trip to the garden nursery, and a beautiful lace Hydrangea that decorated her house when she hosted my baby shower a few months before Coco was born. 

There's the spring of Lilac that I pulled from the ground at a neighbour's house and rooted in a glass of water.  It now grows tall and bushy and remains, to this day, my most favourite flower scent (Lily of the Valley, which also grows in our garden, is a close second).  There are plants that I planted to remind me of past gardens and plants that I've fallen in love with that came with this house- Flox, Lemon Balm and Comfrey.  Our front garden has exploded with new, true loves after being completely replanted after a front porch reno a year ago last spring. 

I'm amazed at both the fickleness and resiliency of plants, and how they truly capture the spirit of a person, the gardener.  But, I'm also certain that gardens capture the spirit of a family line; gardener ancestors that also loved the smell of earth and the labor of creating a beautiful plot of land. 

Living, growing, wild heirlooms.

4 August

a day in our life

 

I was inspired to document my day after reading Kyrie's words, "I feel like I have spent a lot of time trying to capture very specific, small moments of beauty, and now I'm moving in the direction of wanting to capture our big, wonderful life as a family."  I love it.  The original idea came from here and I'd love to try a whole week at some point, but for now a day is all I can commit to. 

I truly enjoyed doing this today.  I didn't think taking pictures throughout one day would impact me in any particular way but somehow it really did.  Partly this is because today is the last day my daughter will be one and I'm surprised to find I'm a little emotional (and overjoyed) that her 2nd birthday is tomorrow.  With each click of the camera, and with planning for tomorrow on my mind, I was reminded of life's swift, sweet moments that come and go in a flash.  There's so much beauty in that and, as a result, I feel a desperation sometimes to try and hold on and remember it all so poignantly.  Yes, today was the perfect day to experiment with documenting a day in the life of the Elliott's.

Today:

• We woke up to Coco pretending to be a bunny jumping around on the bed.  I called her Bunny all morning.

• we enjoyed our breakfast in the bright, morning sun and marvelled at the recent taming of the chickadees flying around our back deck (can you see one sitting in the tomato plant pot?).

• made strawberry and greek yoghurt popsicles and enjoyed them in the afternoon.

• walked Scout around our neighborhood and passed many dream houses before returning home to one.

• Coco napped for almost an hour exactly.  Enough time for me to prep dinner.

• left Scout at home while we hit the farmer's market and bought 10 pounds of organic blueberries to eat and freeze.  We'll go back for more next week.

• caught up with family.

• tidied, vacuumed and cleaned up the floor for the zillionth time.

• created some masterpieces.

• found a little magic lying around.

• worked on laundry throughout the day.

• read books, sang songs and danced a little.

• took photos for an upcoming blog post.

• had a lovely back deck feast of beef and corn chili, salad, sauerkraut and corn tortillas.  

• after Coco went to bed, stayed up late getting things ready to surprise her in the morning when she wakes up a 2 year-old.

• stayed up even later preparing this post.

 

I'd love to try to do this once a week, I found I was ever more aware and surprised by the amount we pack into a day.  Beautiful, ordinary days are the most special of all, indeed.

11 July

where I have been

We are back from a trip home.  It's been 18 years since I lived in Ontario, but I still can't help but call it home.  Such is the way when a place works itself into your soul and being, and has formed strong memories of what we would these days call a "free range childhood".  Ontario is rich in fields and farmland, cottage country, little deciduous forests and hedgerows, undeniably hot summers, and a countryside that tugs at my heartstrings.  Where I am from the towns are small, the houses old, the antique stores abundant and, if you stand in the right spot, you can see all 7 church steeples in town at once.  A few minutes drive away is the countryside I grew up in, the schools I went to, friends I've known long enough to say "back in the day" with, and land I know like the back of my hand. 

The land is what I miss most, with names like "Candlewick Woods" and "Cornish Hollow Road".  This, coupled with the intense desire to raise Coco in such wide, open spaces as I was.  It makes coming home- as in my real and current home on the west coast- a little bittersweet.  Bitter in my longing and sweet in all that I am blessed with now.  It also brings with it the afirmation that we thrive in quiet, slow living and a reminder of an excitment for what lies ahead- the possiblity that there is land on an island in the Salish Sea patiently waiting for us to fall in love with; somewhere here on the west coast that will be Coco's own "back home" in her adulthood.  A land of driftwood, kelp, sand and tidal pools, a crackling woodstove in the damp of winter, honey from our own bees, and an abundant crop from our own garden(s).

Yes, a new back home will come, and we will wait patiently for it also.

 

12 May

foundations

Again, our west coast is covered under a blanket of grey, mist and rain.  I love the romance of this weather, but really now.  It's May.

Considering that the climate is in a rhythm of cloud, I've been looking to our own rhythms more than ever to fortify us, nourish us and guide us.  I'm noticing the lack of festival and celebration in our lives right now and I see it's making this long shift into spring even longer.  We missed our home celebrations of Easter, of which I can't complain because we were entrenched in the very special rhythm of Hawaii, and we haven't heard of any May festivals happening locally.  And so, we fall back on the simplicity of it all; the fabric and foundations of our every day:

• lighting candles to symbolize warmth and light
• nourishing lentils soups and cottage pie
• long walks, sometimes in the pouring rain, in the woods and around our neighbourhood
• warm socks and comfy clothes to greet us when we return home
• long baths so that the water has time to warm us right down to our bones
• regular naps, regular meals, regular bedtimes (as regular as we are able to achieve, that is)

And, we're ready!  We're ready for the moment this everlasting rainstorm lifts and the sun brings us all the chance to dry out!  I've been working on a few little crafts to in the meantime (more on that soon) to celebrate the promise of sunshine, because while spring doesn't seem to have yet arrived, it's promise surely has.

What do you do to lift your spirits when the clouds themselves won't?

8 May

Mother's Day 

My favourite room in the house is my daughter's.  No matter how busy we are or tired we may feel, I can walk into her room and feel at peace.  I love the way the light drifts in and how the floor creaks.  I love her things scattered about and the way she tucks her dollies in (usually with feet on the pillow and heads hanging off the edge).  I walk in and soak all of it up and vow, in my heart, to never forget that funny thing she did yesterday, or the way her white, white hair stuck straight up when she sat up in bed this morning. 

I didn't always know if I was going to be a mother but I always knew, achingly at times, that it was what I wanted more than anything.  Having a child didn't come easily for me and the years I spent in heartache changed who I am, in my core and my soul, forever. 

But, so has Coco.

I'm sometimes taken aback at the sudden realization and remembering that I am a mother.  The gratitude I have deep in my heart for my family grows every day and with every new stage of Coco's little being.  I feel so very lucky to be a mother and profoundly lucky to be her mother.  My story has a happy ending.

So to all the mothers, grandmothers, aunties and sisters, care givers and mothers to be:

Enjoy this beautiful day!

20 December

building who you are

The festive season is upon us!  (And have you noticed that Coco's hair has grown long enough for sweet bed head?)  Oh, how this festive season taps into my heart's memory!  You know when you experience or remember something that has truly built a part of you?  I thought I'd share some of what that is for me. 

I feel a nostaligia around Christmas for so many reasons.  Mostly, I think it's comfort.  We're listening to lovely Celtic carols, we're eating hearty meals, we're in our woolens and decorating- an act of celebration that reaps so much reward for the senses.  Candles are burning, the old stories are being told and Coco is soaking it all up.  When it comes to creating a peaceful atmosphere, a house of joy and celebration, I had a great teacher.  There is so much I do that is influenced by my own mother and the memories she and my father created for us and Christmas is full of such things.  I admittedly am sentimental and nostalgic, but this is also about what shapes us into who we are and what contributes to the memories we carry with us as we age.

Christmas Eve, many years ago, was always a festive celebration.  Ours and another family were very close and annually we would celebrate the night before Christmas together.  One of our traditions on that night was a woodland search for a yule log to burn in our woodstove.  Earlier in the day, my siblings and I would hike back into the woods and place a yule log, usually a birch log with a red bow on it, somewhere along the trail.  Our guests would arrive and we would feast together before heading out into the woods behind our home for a moonlit yule log walk.  Once we found our log we would bring it back to the house and onto the fire it would go.  Then, we'd exchange gifts, snack on nuts and usually the guitars and the singing would begin while our yule log snapped and crackled away.

There is so much I value from these Christmas Eves long ago.  As a child, the simple act of searching for a yule log was nothing short of magical, especially on a dark winter's Christmas Eve with our family friends in tow.  As an adult, and especially as a mother, I appreciate the planning and the effort involved in creating this tradition.  Once it got going it carried itself, but I love that my mom thought to do it in the first place.  I love the idea of families gathered around the fire rejoicing, and that's just what we did.  There, in a house on the edge of the forest, we celebrated the season in what I see as a very ancient and symbolic way.  It did indeed help to build who I am and it left an impression on my young self as to what the true meaning of Christmas is.  Why I am such an advocate for festivals and celebration is deeply rooted in these old memories. 

So, last week I remembered this as I sensed a sinus cold coming on and saw our schedules fill up more than I'm comfortable with.  I remember this now as I realize I have so many things to do before Christmas Eve.  I'll remember this as we take the time to walk a labyrinth tomorrow night with our lanterns aglow in celebration of the Winter Solstice.  I'll remember to keep the carols playing, the candles flickering and the tree alight, for these moments are building who Coco is, what she knows, and how she will remember Christmas to be.

Do you have special traditions from your youth that you continue to honor today?

7 December

winter books

Growing up, one of the rituals in our family was reading.  I remember every one of us reading often- in the car, before bed, on the weekends and throughout the day.  We made weekly trips, as an entire family, to the library in town one night a week.  The library was a big, old, brick building as I recall.  Looking back on it, I think it must have been an old house converted into a library.  I remember it clearly inside-  down the stairs to the kid's section (where the librarian would tease me for borrowing Pinkerton...again), and up the stairs to the adult section; lots of little rooms each of a different genre.  I remember a neat spiral staircase in one room that led to a narrow walkway lined with shelves of books that followed the perimeter of the room. 

Another reading joy back then was the return of our beloved holiday books once the Christmas season arrived.  Because these books would get packed away with the ornaments, we were always eager to see them again after their year long hiatus.  I can see now, as an adult looking back, that these books really contributed to the excitement of the season and that by reading them we were celebrating the celebration of Christmas itself.

I've been collecting holiday books for my own family and I thought I would share some of my favorites with you here.  They are stories old and new.  As an aside, aren't children's books amazing these days?  So many wonderful ones to choose from and, oh, the illustrations!  I'm so thankful that I have Chloe to read these incredible books to, though I'm not sure who I really buy them for...her, or me?  Anyway, here are a few that will be read with love during wintry, festive seasons for years to come.

Growing up, some old Christmas classics included Father Christmas, Father Christmas Goes on Holiday, and The Snowman.  I also loved listening to A Child's Christmas in Wales and reading these books, which were in rotation for every season and I think happen to be my most loved children's books ever.  Other great seasonal books we enjoyed were The Jolly Christmas Postman and a version of The Night Before Christmas.  Actually, I was just thinking today about how perfectly I remember The Night Before Christmas being read to me on Christmas Eve and how I truly believed in every word.  I gave this one to my cousins one Christmas when it first came out.  I paired the book with a silver bell to hang on their tree.  My aunt still, to this day (and her youngest of five is in his teens), can't read this book without crying at the end.  Clearly, she still hears the magic.  Do you? 

Over the recent years I've fallen in love with some new holiday books, ones that I know my young self would have treasured as well.  I can best describe The Winter's Gift as a gentle and peaceful story and one that gets me every time.  Jack Frost is such a sweet little tale and those illustrations are just perfect.  This book is wonderful, as is any Christmas classic illustrated by Lisbeth Zwerger.  We own The Nutcracker and The Night Before Christmas.  This year, I bought a copy of this for us, and a copy of Ollie's Ski Trip should be arriving any day.  

A great story for girls, and one that truly captures the magic of the season, is Margaret Laurence's The Olden Days Coat.  It's a beautiful story that will make you fall in love with Duffel coats all over again (if you aren't already).   

A photo of my own "olden days coat", though you can't see it very well past that yellow clad cutie pie!

Christmas and seasonal stories can so beautifully sum up the emotions of this festive time and seem to also capture family memories within their pages.  For that, at the very least, they are truly magical.  I'd love to know what your childhood favorites are, as well as the ones that have stolen your own heart in recent years.