Sunday, August 21, 2011

At the Beach

bubbles, water balloons and birthdays -- cousins
my sister-in-law's watermelon, greek yogurt, and berries layer cake. genius.

s'mores pie -- the gooiest most labor-intensive pie I've ever made
(marshmallow whipped cream, graham crackers dipped in hot fudge, vanilla marshmallow cream...) Kaia Joye's vision and my mom's heaven-dessert.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

The Hair

now that I have my camera hook-up, the hair post-haircuts:

Monday, August 08, 2011

The Garden of Eden

A few hours ago, I would have written this:

Last night after Ben checked on the kids, he walked through the bathroom and found curved clippings of brown hair all over the floor. Needless to say that's not usually how I, one of the two brown haired people in the family, leave the bathroom. I tried to feel Eden's hair in the dark and found a few short pieces, but nothing drastic, and there hadn't been too much hair on the floor, so I went to bed without much thought -- most kids try it once, right? and I've always known Eden would be one of those kids. This morning, I saw that the hair on half her head was cut to the jaw bone, some strands a little shorter, though the very front pieces were still up in a rubber band. Perhaps not horrible, just a gap in the curtain of her hair?

She, who rarely lets her regret show, told us later in the day that she likes having short hair on one side and long on the other. And that she does not want it all short because then she can't have braids. And she loves braids. So all day I entertained keeping the gap.

Them came tonight, Eden's Garden:

Despite Silas's early rising and the number of miles the kids trudged over the mountain today, Silas and Eden are jet-lagged and despite exhaustion, had a hard time calming down tonight (much like their mother who is alone on the couch in a dark living room at this very moment). After tucking them in, we could hear Eden's animated voice bouncing behind the door and not long after heard footsteps which sounded like running between our room and theirs. But we were reading happily and knew they'd fall asleep eventually. The sounds continued in a somewhat inexplicable way -- were they jumping? stomping? still running? We ignored it. Then at one point, my mom commented on the fact that there wasn't noise anymore, hadn't been for a while, except hushed murmuring -- dangerous. So we voted for Pops to go up and sternly shoo them to bed. He walked into their room,
Where is everyone?

Then he tried the bathroom door. Locked. We listened to him walk to the opposite bathroom door. Also Locked. He knocked. And (with prompting) knocked harder. The sound of scurrying from the hidden people. I walked up and arrived at the other door just as Silas opened it. Nothing registered.

What are you doing?
Silas's big guilty eyes looked at my face, We're cutting our hair.
I saw it as the words left his mouth -- Eden's hair was now up to the jaw bone on both sides (minus the pony tail still on top) with several pieces almost to the top of her ear. And Silas's hair -- my favorite right now, coarse-soft and bleached nearly white from the sun -- was cut to the skin right on top. I just stood there looking back and forth and a laugh blasted out of my mouth as I turned to my dad. But I knew that wouldn't do, so as it was leaving my mouth, I also said, this is NOT funny. Very effective.

But Mom! It isn't my fault, Eden told me to do it.
(Several conversations followed up this statement).

Eden, tomorrow we're going to have to cut your hair.
I don't want my hair cut!!!
But you cut it.
I want it long.
But you cut it short. Yes, I stopped there. The reasoning was getting us no where.

As they finally climbed into bed sheepishly, a little itchy from hair, Ben rifled through the bathroom for the scissors.
Where are the scissors?
They're behind the sink.
Where? I don't see them.
Behind the sink. On the floor.

I'm pretty sure an angel with a flaming sword will be guarding the bathroom doors tomorrow night.

(at least they put a lot of it in the trashcan)


More than the spattering sound against the porch and railings, the rain rushes and blows through the trees and beats against the windows and sides of the house. Thunder rumbles low and grumbling in the background, through the mountains that we can no longer see.

We arrived yesterday to the woods I've come to for thirty years. In recent years, they seem more towering and brighter than ever as their huge bodies sway in the wind, so unlike the low flat land where I live.

This morning when my mom got up -- she was the first of us -- she walked into the living room to find Silas fully dressed with binoculars around his neck gazing out the door (in his west coast brain it was 4AM). Each time I've spotted his little white-blonde head today, he's been moving and armed with some kind of equipment -- binoculars, walking sticks, telescope, shovel, machete, bear whistle. I think heaven for him, like Nana, will be this exact setting.

The rain has quieted enough now that it's changed to pattering and trickling drops, still with that low thunder behind it. The trees stand perfectly still. My hands are scratched from the rope swing and my hair soft from pond water -- a water so cold it sucked the breath out of me each time I dove in. Jesh, my one year old nephew, is bouncing on the rug next to Silas behind me-- cousins.

On the trail today Eden collected handfuls of treasures that she jammed into my jean short pockets: acorns and two "rainbow leaves"-- the august woods already lean toward fall -- crumpled green leaves Eden was "making play dough" from, rocks flecked with mica.

This summer the hills have been wild with black bears -- a newer development since I was a girl -- bears so bold they've climbed onto neighbors' porches and ambled under their apple trees. Last night at dusk, a neighbor spotted a mama and four cubs right down near the gate digging out a bee hive. We clustered on the porch but couldn't seen them, despite Eli's work with the binoculars, Silas's with the telescope, and Eden's the with magnifying glass. Instead we saw fire flies flecking the dark woods.

In a few minutes we'll walk through the thundery air and drive down to Asheville for bar-b-que, faces to the glass watching for bears as we go.