Watching the World Unfold

So much has happened this month! The babies turned 16 and 16 and 20, which is...like...I don't even know what to think about having a 20-year-old child. I need more time to process it, like another 20 years. In the meantime, outside, the grass has grown and the trees have made leaves. Flowers have come and gone on the alders and aspens and apples. We already have buttercups and blue-eyed grass in the meadow. Does it seem like spring is happening faster than it's supposed to? Does it seem like everything is happening faster than it's supposed to? (See: babies, above.)

Right now the whole world (or at least my tiny corner of it) is that perfect shade of new green where every leaf and blade is fresh and unmarked by drought or caterpillar nibble, and I want it to stay like this forever, except that I'm as much in love with the caterpillars that nibble the leaves (excluding the brown-tailed moth caterpillars; I don't love those at all) and the warblers that nibble the caterpillars as I am with the green. The other day I was watching a dragonfly whir around my yard and I saw a Phoebe dart after it and I didn't even know which one to root for. This is why I can't watch sports; I want everyone to win--the leaves, the bugs, the birds.

In other news, a painted turtle crossed our driveway the other day, heading away from a patch of soil Curry just rototilled. I'm hoping it laid eggs (and that raccoons don't find the eggs; okay, I'll root for turtle eggs over raccoons). We have tree swallows nesting in at least three birdhouses, bluebirds (for the first time) in another, chickadees in another, and a family of phoebes under the deck. Someone is building a nest foundation of moss in yet another house, and I'm hoping it's tufted titmice. We had a nestful last year and they were the most attentive parents, bringing bugs and clearing out the fecal pellets (unlike the swallows who live in insect-infested filth), and the babies chirped so sweetly from inside the box. I came very close to seeing them fledged but missed it due to impatience. I'm hoping for a second chance.

And this week so many butterflies appeared: tiger swallowtails, azures, American coppers, common ringlets, and a possible sighting of a harvester (the only carnivorous butterfly; if that doesn't give you nightmares I don't know what will). There's simply too much going on to waste time on things like work. I'm working on a plan to reconfigure my life. It's not fleshed out yet, but whatever it eventually entails, I know I need to leave May wide open so that I have time to watch the world unfold and contemplate how old my children have become.

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Weekend Things ~ Better Late Than Never

There's a little amusement park in New Hampshire, called Storyland, that it seems everyone (around here) takes their kids to at least once in their lives, but to which we hadn't gotten around to going yet.

It's geared for younger kids, and I realized this summer that we'd better go now, before it was too late. I was surprised that M, who had gone when he was about nine with relatives, was happy to go with us, and happy to go on even the tamest of rides.

There were a few more thrilling rides, including the Polar Coaster, and a brand-new wooden roller coaster. It's been a good 20 years since I last rode a roller coaster, and while the Roar-o-Saurus wasn't the wildest roller coaster I've ever been on, it's clear that I've gotten old. My thoughts each time I rode went something like this: "I'm not going to like this. I don't like this. Oh, that's not so bad. Never mind, I don't like this. I really don't like this. Wait a minute, I kind of like this. Yes, I do like this. Let's do it again!" Kind of like having babies.

The park, as you may have guessed, is fairy-tale themed, but is uncorrupted by commercialized versions of those tales and has a quaint, old-world feel to it.

With attractions like the antique German carousel.

And antique car track (the only one we had to wait more than five minutes to ride).

I loved Heidi's grandfather's hut (which just might have been the spark needed for the boys to let me read them that book, which is one of my childhood favorites).

And the Cuckoo Clockenspiel is probably the most beautiful amusement park ride ever, with adelweiss-embossed beer barrels spinning around Maypoles.

When we first arrived, I saw mostly toddlers and little kids, and was afraid I'd missed my chance of getting there before it was too late, but after a while we saw more older kids and teenagers (and possibly some unchaperoned adults).

The low-tech attractions we as entertaining as the wild rides.

(She had so many children, she didn't know what to do...)

We stayed at nearby inn that I'm certain was haunted (with generations of dead mice in the walls, if nothing else) and which had an old-school playground in the backyard.

They had as much fun trying out these novelties--they had never seen a teeter-totter before--as they did at the amusement park.

And considering the injuries Z has already acquired from the school's brand-new playground, I don't think these are any more dangerous.

All-in-all, a great weekend, and we made it just in time--before we all were too old--and, as I said to C after we got home, "That was fun, but I don't need to do it again."

Potions

Z has gotten in the habit of dropping large wads of cash at our local farm store--pounds of free-range bacon and sausage, all-natural sodas, mints in fancy cardboard tubes, and baggies of herbs off the bulk herb shelf. I don't know why this bothers me--he claims that since we won't let him buy what he wants (an iPod Touch), why shouldn't he spend his money on food. He's a much better saver than E, who spends his money on Lego sets or Big Nate books the minute he gets a chance. M can be a saver when he has something in mind to save up for (his own iPod Touch, or a new distortion peddle), or he can spend flagrantly on junk food and school dances, living from paycheck to paycheck (or allowance disbursement to allowance disbursement). Z, on the other hand, holds on tight to his cash. Or at least he did until recently. And he has a great big wad of it to spend, so I cringe when he drops $60 bucks on food. 

But that's not what this post is about. Or it's only about that tangentially. Back around Christmastime, Z bought several vanilla beans and a bunch of big knuckles of ginger root, and has been begging to make vanilla extract and crystallized ginger ever since. I appreciate his determination (although it's a bit disconcerting to come home each night to your eight-year-old asking if you'd picked up any vodka on the way home), and his interest in potion-making, but December and January were too busy for side projects.

Finally, though, I picked up some vodka last week, and more ginger to replace the roots that had grown shriveled and moldy in our fridge, and Z and I set to work Sunday. We followed Catherine Newman's vanilla extra recipe, and ended up with 20 ounces of extract-in-the making. Enough, surely, to last until Z goes to college. We also have a few leftover vanilla beans, so suggestions on what to do with those would be most welcome.

For the crystallized ginger, I just used a random recipe off the internet, which is:

Simmer1 lb peeled and sliced ginger root with 5 c. water until soft (this took 40-50 min.)

Strain (reserving liquid); weigh ginger; return to pot w/ an equal weight of sugar and 1/4 cup cooking liquid.

Bring to a boil, and cook, stirring frequently, until the sugar is almost dry and recrystallized.

Spread on a baking sheet to cool.

We made a half-recipe and it made about two cups of crystallized ginger (which didn't last long in our house). It's the chewiest, spiciest, most delicious crystallized ginger I've ever had, and I highly recommend it (it's not a lot of work to make, just a lot of time).

Both recipes will be in the running for kid-made Christmas gifts next year. In the meantime, Z and I are going to have to think of some other potions to cook up.

Meanwhile, the Brainwashing Continues Apace

Dear McDonold,

Why do you serv fact food? I bet if I tasetd it I whoud barph.
Do you like Star Wars?
By the way I'm not going to your restrant if I can help it.

                                                                  good bey
                                                                  E----

I appear to be raising a little Morgan Spurlock, Junior. I can't say I'm not proud (although I see we need to work a bit on spelling...).

An Apothecary Cabinet

Back before Christmas, when we were cleaning house in preparation for the holidays, C suggested that it was time to get rid of the play kitchen. I refused, because, well, it's cute. And I'm not ready to say my babies are that grownup. And he would just replace it with a piece of furniture onto which he could pile junk. And, also, some day, when there's a little less Spinjitzu activity going on in our house, I want to display my Akro Agate tea sets on it.

Meanwhile, Z's interest in herbalism continued to grow, and his collection of herbal accoutrements expanded greatly with two mortar and pestle sets, a funnel, and various jars and vials that he received for Christmas gifts. His stuff was starting to overrun my space. So we decided to turn the play kitchen into his apothecary cabinet, where he can store his containers and dried herbs and equipment.



It turned out perfect--it keeps his stuff off my hutch, it gives him somewhere to store and work, and it has saved the play kitchen from an ignominious fate in the basement.