Friday, November 9, 2012

Any October candy left over?

all together now, the costume edition
Well, the house didn't get painted before the rain started. But. The candy is all sorted, traded, sacked up and labeled by owners and squirreled away for rainier days. Don't worry, we had plenty of sugar high and sugar sickness to last until at least, oh, November 10. (And I only broke into the chocolate during tense moments on Election Day, so no need for the kids to recount, 'K?)
birdhouse, bokeh, what's not to like?
We are still canning applesauce. And my garage boasts six boxes of beautiful apples too pretty to process. Any word from my farm girl friends on how long we can store these for snacking?
locally (in)famous rope swing near me
The trees are slowly dropping leaves into the water, onto the road and lawns. The ponies think they are potato chips dropping from the sky, perhaps, and snack while waiting for the autumn rain to green the pasture. Silly ponies. Don't they know we'll bring them apple cores galore?
swimming, not so much

I haven't been running, as the heat made my music device stick to the inside of my, er, undergarment. Obviously I am super committed. 

I did join a gym as a birthday gift to myself, though, and am excited to try a new yoga and pilates instructor as soon as Willy Wonka rehearsals (and thus my extra four trips per day) are over in two weeks. The end of rehearsals means... of course... the beginning of performance! Three shows per weekend from November 30 through December 23. Madeleine had to leave rehearsal early last night because she was sick, and now she is sick with worry. I do wish she didn't get that from me, you know?

We think a lot, it seems to me, about the traits our children inherit: blue eyes or green, tall or short, perfect pitch, athleticism. But I worry about the worry. The things we can't change, the seasons and the illnesses and the shapes of our bodies: these should be granted a pass on the anxiety scale. 

The things we may affect, neighborliness and good works and commitment, these I am sure are worth the extra thought and attention of turning the subject over in our minds until a solution is wrought, forged of ideas and actions.

I wish she wouldn't worry.
it's 36 degrees outside as i caption this
One of the things I love about running is the extra thinking time. It turns that potential for worry, for me, into a more productive meditation. It curbs the chocolate cravings too.
that's the road frontage of the south end of our property... tree tunnel!
There's running, and then there's running.
pumpkin and calendula, by me, for me, happy me
Out in the garden we have picked the last of the winter squash. Remaining in the ground are gorgeous and delicious purple cauliflower, which unlike the purple carrots or purple "green" beans, does not lose its color when cooked. This makes for an interesting cream of cauliflower soup. I'm not sure I'm ready for lavender soup. BUT I love cauliflower soup, creamy and hot, so I close my eyes.

Also still in the garden are leeks, chard, kale, spinach, turnips. I do love turnips. No one else loves them, alas, and my father-in-law (who lives on the farm with us) cannot stand them. I sneak them in with roasts and stir fry and they are pushed aside on the plate. Sigh. More turnips pour moi.
snow white and pilot, ham and turkey
We trick-or-treated between dance classes this year, because the downtown in Small Town Near Us is too too adorable and closes Main Street to traffic for all the sweet diminutive princesses and tiny Napoleon Dynamites. (And because we had to be there for Madeleine and Sarah's class.) We visited the three independent bookstores (go books!) and the baby resale shop and local artisans' and bookkeepers' storefronts and collected the aforementioned candy while visiting with neighbors and friends. Whether you love Halloween or hate Halloween, you must love preschoolers in costumes.

Heck, my kids wear costumes most every day, so I've resolved not to worry about the potential creepiness factor of some traditions and just go with the good. And the Good.

I hope your season is full of grace. I hope your heart is light and your worries are few. Please write and tell me how your garden is and how you're doing.