Happy New Year!

Happy New Year!  May you have Peace & Joy in 2012

Here are a few photos from the past couple of months

Little imp

So I've been really into Scandanavia lately!  Isn't she precious?

No, smile.  Smile please.  Faolan! Smile? *uh* Happy Thanksgiving.

 Thanksgiving dinner at our house this year!  Got a picture of the turkey I was so proud of, but forgot to get good photos of my family.  Doh!  Mom & Dick came up from Georgia this year for the first time, and we had Evie & Brian over as well.  I was so excited to host!  It was good to see my family.  Faolan had her own little table right by my chair.  She decorated it herself!  She also made little pinecone turkeys as favors for everyone.  She is really into "decorations".

Faolan decorated a sugar skull for a Dia de Los Muertos celebration at the Arts Council

Faolan was Yoda for Halloween.  Here she is on "treats & trails" at the nature center.

Baby bunnies AND a hayride?  Heaven.

She rode every pony that day!

Sweet little goats at the pony farm

In the car on the way home from an all day excursion seeing outdoor sculptures

No more baby. She's a little girl now. *sniff* She's beautiful.

corny, but fun

Here are some nuggets of wit and wisdom from our girl:


This is my favorite story.  One day in late summer Faolan and I walked to a nearby playground.  She loves the sandbox, so it was the first thing on her mind.  After about two minutes she came running to me very excitedly saying "Mamma!  Mamma!  It's my LUCKY day!"  I was already giggling inside having never heard her say this before.  "Oh, why honey?" I said.  "Look!" she said,  "I found a bracelet, a digger and a teeny tiny cup!"  She showed me her treasures one by one.....a milk ring, a broken spork, and the cap to a water bottle.  The world is anew through a child's eyes.  I would have looked at those things and scowled with anger at trash in the sandbox.  What a precious gift to be reminded to look at things with a childish innocence every once in a while.

*****************

I got a flat tire the other day when I went to run errands with Faolan.  I pulled into a parking lot and called Tim on his cell phone.  I knew he was home.  He didn't pick up.  I grumbled a few choice words to myself then called the home phone.  No answer.  It was really cold and I began to get worried.  The last time I had a flat tire it took two strong men to get my lug nuts off.  I didn't know if I could do it on my own.  I called Tim again on his cell and he answered.  He was there soon enough and fixed the tire quickly.  As he is on his back on the cold parking lot ground a curious Faolan watched.  When he was almost done she said "Daddy.  Mamma called you but you didn't pick up the damn phone."  Tim looked over at me as I blushed with a sheepish grin.

*****************

"Mamma, does bubble gum taste like bubbles?"

*****************

Faolan:  "Mamma, so where do babies come from?" 
Mamma:  "Well, when you grow up..."
Faolan:  "no, Mamma, I mean after you find a good man"
Mamma:  *cough* "um....er..."

*******************

Faolan:  "Daddy, what is a god?"
Daddy:  "Well, sweetie, a god is a very powerful being. Do you know what a 'being' is? Every living thing is a 'being.' A cat is a living being; we're living being. Gods are beings, and normally people imagine them to be really powerful. Sometimes they're good; sometimes they're bad. And they're normally invisible so you can't see them unless they want you to... although different stories imagine gods in different ways. Sometimes people imagine lots of different gods, and sometimes they imagine only one, or even none. Some people believe there is a real god, only one, and some people believe there are lots of real gods. That's what 'religion' is about--
Faolan: Daddy, I'm Princess Leah.

*******************

‎...meanwhile, in the car the other day, on the way to Lansing to meet up with Faolan's cousins (at an indoor play area with the inflatable, bouncy structures that had Faolan quite excited all morning)...

Faolan: I love you, Dad.
Daddy: I love you, too, darlin'--
Faolan: I love you so much, we don't have to go to Lansing.
Daddy: Really? Should we turn around?
Faolan: Silly daddy. I don't love you *that* much.

*******************

Tim was trying to explain what a "weekend" was. He explained that while most people work during the week, there are some people who work on the weekend.

Faolan: When I grow up, I don't want to work.
Daddy: Well, darlin', the trick is to find something that you love so it doesn't feel like work. Like for me, it's writing. For mama its--
Faolan: Yeah. For me it's not working.

*******************

If you don't know, Tim gets up quite early on the weekends to get some writing done while Mamma and Faolan are still sleeping. Typically, after Mamma and Faolan get up, Faolan will rush into the office to say good morning. One morning, she was sitting on Daddy's lap and wants to type, too. So Daddy saves all his work and pulls up a blank document for her. Typing morphs into odd key-combinations, and soon Daddy's closing windows that say something like, "If you want to enable [that feature], you'll have to configure..." Daddy hardly reads them as he closes them. OK, end of typing. Let's just sit here and talk for a minute.

Did you sleep well? Did you have good dreams? What--

The computer is typing. Slowly. On its own. Word by word. Strange things, like, "whole year the jury notes pass rights..."

Daddy's calm. Daddy's tech. He rules out someone "taking over the computer" almost immediately. Could the software be somehow merging another document into this one? No, he decides.

And still, it types. "...that or of swim lunch..." This is starting to freak Daddy out a bit. If it types, "Hello, Tim" or "I am in the house" Daddy thinks we might discover just how aerodynamic a computer can be flying out of a second-story window.

Suddenly, Daddy realizes that the headphones are sitting beside him and Faolan, on the desk. The headphones with a microphone. Then he recalls what one of the messages said. "If you want to enable voice recognition, you must first calibrate your microphone."

The Golden Bee

A happy nut harvesting-burying-forgetting-finding-losing-finding-burying-harvesting-forgetting-burying season to all! Forgive me for intruding in this space, but I feel the need to stand up and defend the good name of squirrels everywhere. Let me introduce myself. My name is Tintinaboo Fuzzbutt, Esq., and I am at your service.

Let me also apologize for the lateness of this rejoinder. It has been quite the busy summer and fall -- what with the great number of nuts requiring harvesting-burying-forgetting-finding-losing -- so this is really my first opportunity to answer the slanderous barbs so callously advanced upon these pages some months ago.

‘Heinous’ does not begin to describe the opprobrium and vitriol loosed on these pages. I have been vilified. Pilloried. Vituperated! Hmmph! “Garden Rat,” indeed!

Ahh. Here, here. Let us try to keep our heads about us. No reason we can’t be civil to one another. Perhaps we should sit and share a tankard. Your best brew, mind.

--Yes, yours. You pant-wearing monkeys are the ones that figured out fermentation. You’re the ones with thumbs. “Ooh, look at my thumbs! Look at what they do! They bend in the... opposite direction... from my other fingers. Oooh!” And yes, you do sound like that.

Just like that.

Now, where was I? Ah, yes.

Neither I nor my forty-odd immediate family members will deny backyard residency. The food is plentiful, the cats are contained, and our contract is agreeable. Nor will we deny occasionally lopping the head off an obnoxiously cheerful tulip. Nor will we deny occasionally uprooting the entirety of the bulbs you planted. Occasionally. Just occasionally, as is our contracted right.

But not a single one of us is responsible for the despicable desecration of our goddess, Beealzibuzz, The Golden Bee. Since ancient times, we have worshiped her image. Prayed to her glory. Made offerings of the uprooted bulb. Followed her teachings; “If you see a tulip head, lop it off. Do this in my name.” Amen.

No, if you truly wish to discover the malefactor in this sad, blasphemous tale, look no further than Stygius Night, raven, noted apostate, and member of the heretical Blackheart Society. Sightblinder, the children name him. Find his lair and you will find the Eye of Beealzibuzz.

Summer Goals

This is the first summer in a while that I did not have to take grad classes.  It will probably be the last free summer for Tim & I for another few years.  Knowing this, I made some lofty goals for myself, and a laundry list of projects around the house.  Why do I do this to myself?  I don't know.  It turns out Tim & I are "project people".  We feel funny when we don't have a project looming.  I will encourage Tim to explain his goals in a separate post.

This summer my goals were these:
1. Establish an etsy site to sell my paintings that are piling up (and hopefully make a few extra bucks)
2. Get some artwork in a show or two
3. Learn how to grow and store vegetables
4. Trace the "Woods" side of my family to the original from Europe

Well, I'm still working on the first goal, though I have spent much time painting to create sale-able stock.  I went on this sheep kick after seeing the collie and sheep at the highland festival.  I've been painting small 4x4 sheep mostly.  I hit a wall in my tree project, so that is on hold until I can get past my creative challenge.  I am almost done with my logo.  My shop will be called Indigo Lion Arts.  Don't ask.  It was like the gazillionth name I came up with that was finally available at etsy.  Anyway, I'll give it a shot.

I was excited to accomplish goal number two in the spring.  Two opportunities came along at the same time.  One was a juried show at Western Michigan University & the other was a juried competition for a banner in downtown Holland.  It was a crazy week when I had to submit to both shows two days apart.  I had to create new artwork for the banner competition, as it had a specific theme of bicycles.  It's a real no-no to submit wet work, but using oil paint, I'm afraid the canvas had a couple of rather damp spots.  The Holland Arts Council took it anyway.  I submitted two paintings of goats to WMU that I had already done, so I just had to frame them.  I was happy when I got into both shows.  Now when we walk downtown, Finn points up to my banner and exclaims "There's mamma's painting!"  It's so sweet.  I was really happy that the banner was placed smack in the middle of town on a popular intersection!

 I was in such a rush, I never took a photo of the original painting!  Oh well.  Here is the banner.  Coming up with a bicycle theme in this vertical format was challenging!  It also had to have "local flavor" hence the tulip.  I wish I knew how much it brought in from the auction.

Meh.  The color did not scan very well.  While I usually enjoy painting landscapes, this time I let the background dissolve.  There is something delicious about green on a hot pink ground.  The disintegrating landscape also became a sort of comment on global warming in a way.  In the second painting the goat turns it's back, as we humans sometimes turn our back on the environment.  So, sometimes there might be a metaphor hanging out on the edge of culmination, but mostly I just like the form and the color and the shapes that happen.  The Icelandic painter Louisa Mattiasdottir has been a big inspiration to me as she makes negative spaces just as important as the figure.  Animal legs really lend themselves to interesting negative shapes.  I have also been in love with Japanese Woodblock artist Hiroshige & his bold outlines and sometimes satirical subject matter for some time now. 

As for my third goal, I will call this an experimentation or learning year!  I know next to nothing about growing and preserving vegetables, so there was a harsh learning curve.  Throw in the fact that we have very little space in our yard and many many garden rats (squirrels) it's amazing I came away with any eatable food!  Though we have very little yard and live on a buys street corner, I was inspired by Urban Farmer magazine to go for it.  Tim obliged me with his shovel and strength, and before you knew it I had two small veggie beds.  The first housed zucchini, green beans, pickle cucumbers, a blueberry bush, habanero peppers, carrots and a few different herbs.  I grew tomatoes in pots and some in the bed.  I also ended up potting my rosemary after the zucchini threatened to take it over.  May I just say, I LOVE ROSEMARY.  Finn & I pick it for our potatoes, or chicken and the like.  It's delicious.  In my new bed I am attempting a late planting of rutabaga, & cabbage.  We'll see how that turns out.

 Where Finn is standing is now another bed.  Finn loves to water....everything...including herself & me.  Just the green stuff Finn!

Not much, but it's a start!  I was excited with this day's start.  Tim thought I was silly for taking a picture of vegetables.  The beans are actually some from a plant Finn started at Montessori school!

I have been getting together and learning with my friend, Joy, about growing & preserving veggies.  She recently invited me over for a day to learn how to do lactose fermentation.  If you have never heard of it, you should look it up.  It is actually the original way to pickle veggies, and it is easy-peasy.  We did sauerkraut & pickle cucumbers.  I have not tasted them yet, as they get better with time.  I love that the process did not involve any cooking as it has been a hot summer.  I think so many of us have lost the "old ways" of dealing with food.  I am eager to learn all that I can.  I now have a book on root cellars, on lactose fermentation, on solar dehydration, & medicinal herbs.  Speaking of "old ways"...

I have been thinking about my family roots A LOT this year.  Finally, I splurged and bought one month at ancestry.com.  With the help of my grandfather's nephew's wife, Mary, I have an almost complete Woods family tree.  I say almost because there is a little question over the last of my ancestors, Oliver.  I'm still digging.  Some interesting things I found out:

The Woods are from Ireland, (possibly from Scotland before that but we don't know)
Captain Samuel Woods 1740-1825 fought at the Battle of Kings Mountain in the Revolutionary war
The Maxwell clan were borderlanders in Scotland and the name comes from "Macchus' Well"

As for my Grandma Woods lineage, I have mixed feelings.  It seems that since her father's family was comfortable as far as money and society, her mother's family was not.  Therefore, her mother has been nearly impossible to trace.  Only one photo exists to my knowledge of "Jenny" before she married Hugo.  I remember Grandma telling me that her mother's mother was an indentured servant from Ireland, and her father a ships captain on Lake MI.  He drowned when his daughter was only six.  I don't even know for certain what their last names were.  It's so strange to have been able to trace my Grandmother's father well into Germany & France, early 1700s, but nothing for Jenny.  It seems there was even some family turmoil over Hugo even wanting to marry Jenny in the first place because she was not born of good society. 

Pulling out old photos, and tracing my lineage has been interesting.  I see myself in faces of people I never knew.  I see the importance of family story telling, and passing down heritage.  In my efforts to recover Jenny's family history, I came upon some writing by my Grandmother.  She had begun to document stories about her life, but never finished.  She only got through a few pages.  She mentions Jenny, but never a last name.  I will soon be writing letters to the elders in my family to encourage them to write their stories down.  The good, the bad & the ugly. 

                            Early photo of my Grandma Woods' mother, Jenny

                Grandpa Woods, Robert Vaughn.  My goodness!  See where I get my mouth! 

           Grandma Woods, Ruth Marie Landguth, looking much more serious than she was

Time Machine Tea Party

On the left is Faolan, around her 2nd birthday in March, 2010.  On the right is her great-grandmother, Ruth Woods, circa 1909.  I thought it would be neat to do a photo shoot with a similar set-up.  I got the idea when my mother brought the little frilly dress & pinafore for Faolan.  I thought it looked very sweet & old fashioned.  The tea cup from which Faolan is drinking was actually one from Grandma.  It's one of the few things I have from her.  My father took us to Grandma's every weekend, and after he died I continued the weekly visits.  Many of our visits happened over a cup of tea.  

Faolan and Grandma have a few things in common too.  They were both born in early March (7th & 10th) and Faolan is a spitfire, just like her great-grandmother.  I remember hearing Grandma tell stories about how her mother used to cry a lot because she didn't know what to do with an energetic young girl (not the quiet, sweet little angel she had imagined?).  Apparently, her grandmothers did not care for her either.  Her French grandmother would shake her head often and tsk "Rooty, Rooty, Rooty" then tell her to go home in German.  Her Irish grandmother was slightly better, but not all hugs and love either.  The way I see it, Grandma was really just ahead of her time.  She was born when children were supposed to "be seen and not heard" and girls especially were expected to be contented with quiet doll play in the background.  Women couldn't even vote during her childhood for goodness sake!  My Grandma used to do such things as climb the Chicago "L" twirl on the piano seat and climb trees in her Sunday clothes.  She was spunky, and fearless, from what I gather.  

After being told one of these stories of how out of place Grandma felt, I remember hugging her (she was tiny, my chin fit on the top of her head) and thinking to myself, I would know what to do with a strong little girl like her.  *sigh*   Well, all I can say is thank goodness I have a strong partnership with Tim!  And as my daughter's name, Faolan, or "little wolf" suggests, she is strong, energetic and beautiful!  Tim & I see parenting her as a journey in figuring out how to guide that energy in a positive way.  It's not a negative thing, or it doesn't have to be.  It is exhausting, but parenting in general is tiring.  We know she's going to do amazing things in this world.  And on top of that, she has three grandparents who love her and appreciate her tremendously.  I am confident that Faolan will grow up never questioning weather she is loved. 

      

    

Savage Squirrel Saga

                                                     

When I was five, I was bitten by a squirrel.  How the scraggly little thing could think I was trying to harm it by chasing it with a handful of grass that I was sure it wanted to eat, I don't know.  Somehow, instead of climbing a tree out of my little reach, it got scared and bit my thumb.  Then, it bit my other thumb, savagely.  I screamed, and my gallant two year old sister ran to get my mother.  My heroic mother had to actually pry the locked jaws of the squirrel off my tiny thumb.  I don't remember much after that, except a very painful shot at the hospital, and not being able to play with any of the "get well" toys because both thumbs were stitched and wrapped with gauze.  It's amazing how much we depend on our thumbs!

I mention this story so that you can understand the beginning of the savage squirrel saga.  Now that I am grown, and have a house of my own, the drama emerges as damage to my beloved flowers, and vegetables.  The squirrels are like little nasty pranksters.  Sure, I expect them to eat the birdseed & the delicious mulberries.  But the little punks leave half-eaten rotten bread & nuts in the corners of my windows on the porch, they gnaw patches of our halloween jack-o-lanterns & they EAT MY TULIPS!

Last fall I decided to splurge on an investment of beauty for the spring.  I bought a package of red double-petal tulips.  I happily planted them next to the back door where we go in the house, and where we could enjoy their rose-like beauty after a hard winter.  Indeed, the winter was hard.  Some of the largest snowfall I've ever seen.  But I knew that some day spring would come, and that seeing those beautiful tulips miraculously emerging from the frosty ground would renew my spirits.  I think I got to see one of those tulips.  The rest, savagely eaten by you know who.  The thing is, they don't actually eat the blossom.  They pop the poor little heads off and eat the base of the head.  It's a dreadful sight to see their tiny colorful heads spread around the garden like some bloody massacre.  Here is a photo.  I must warn you that this is not for the faint of heart.

Poor, poor tulips.  More recently, they have invaded my first vegetable garden.  Last year I toyed with planting summer squash in between flowers.  I think it was mildew that got to them, or maybe not enough bees to pollinate.  This year Tim dug me a little bed & I bought two butterfly bushes on clearance in the fall.  Well, pollination is fine this year, and the plants are growing like crazy.  But I've only gotten TWO SQUASH.  I looked a little closer yesterday and saw that the savage squirrels had struck again.  Now you might say that perhaps it is a rabbit, or a chipmunk or something equally darling.  But I KNOW.  I know it was THEM.  They laugh and chitter at me when I go outside.  I wonder what the neighbors think when I yell at the trees as I do.

By this time, I should not have to go to the farmers market for squash!  It is frustrating to spend energy & water and money only to feed the savage louts.  Well, this time, they crossed the line....you want to know what they did now?  *gritted teeth* They monstrously attacked my darling little gnome garden!  Poor Greta gnome adopted a wire bee with beautiful blue eyes that flew all the way from Georgia.  He wanted to be in the cooler north and experience more of the seasonal change he said.  Dear Greta was completely overtaken by his beautiful eyes, and she said they reminded her of a beloved dragonfly she used to know.  Well, I must warn you once again.  This next photo is terribly horrifying!  Poor little bee.  Poor, poor little bee.

The shock on Greta's face says it all.  The barbarous monsters STOLE THE BEE'S EYE!  Can you believe it?   I do feel responsible in some respect.  After all, it was me who invited Greta and her husband Fedmore to live there.  And though I often refer to it as Faolan's garden, the residence really belongs to the gnomes.  I should have warned them of the brutal neighbors up above.

Alas, I fear I shall spend my winter hunting through catalogs and planning my spring-time war strategy.  Tomorrow I will try something I heard scares the thieves away...spreading cat hair around my squash.  I don't know if cat hair will do as good as dog hair, but we will see.  What next?  Cages?  A pet hawk?